Chapter Text
Harry slumped on the bed with a groan and stared listlessly at the ceiling. It had been days since he saw another person, and even his fear and anxiety about his friends' fate had given way to apathy. He was trapped, wandless, and the room's scant furnishings were enchanted beyond breaking.
After Dobby had Apparated the others out but before he could return for Harry, Death Eaters rushed into the cellar. He didn't remember much but their agitated swearing and the agony of their curses as they took out their anger on him. Just before he blacked out under a Cruciatus Curse, he heard a shrill female voice interrupt them.
When he came to, he was no longer in the cellar, but a room about the size of his bedroom at Privet Drive. The bars across the window and the spartan decor further drove the similarity home.
At least he had a bed. Lumpy as the mattress was, his sore muscles appreciated the improvement over the cold cellar floor.
His ears pricked up at a creak of a floorboard outside. It was about time for his daily meal. He had been inexplicably left alone for almost a week, wallowing in frustration and self-pity, and even the taciturn house-elf who delivered his food was a welcome company.
The multitude of locks on the reinforced door clicked and clacked until the knob turned. He propped himself up on an elbow expectantly, but instead of the platter-laden elf, his gaze landed on a pair of stockinged legs. Looking up, he flinched and scooted back along the bed.
Bellatrix Lestrange stepped inside and carelessly shoved the door shut behind her. Her heavy-lidded eyes took in his shivering form.
"You don't have to be so scared, Harry," she said, twirling her wand between her fingers. "I just wanted to check in and see if you were enjoying your new accommodations. I was the one who moved you here, you know."
He stared at her in shock, then scowled and looked away. Whatever her game was, no way was he going to thank his captor for her hospitality.
"Don't look so surprised. Diluted as your blood is, you're still of better stock than the Mudbloods you keep company with. It wouldn't do to treat you the same as that filth."
He gritted his teeth. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw her stroll up to the bed and scooted away until his back pressed against the headboard.
"Look at me," she said.
He glared defiantly at the wall. Her wand swished through the air, and an invisible vice gripped his head, swiveling it forcibly toward her. Pain lanced through his neck, and he turned to face her to ease the tension.
"Don't make me repeat myself." She pointed her wand at him, her dark eyes gleaming. "Show more enthusiasm. Auntie Bella took time out of her busy day to come and play with you, after all."
His jaw clenched. A part of his mind that was not blinded by impotent fury observed that Bellatrix was wearing dress robes—still black, but more glamorous than the severe Death Eater garbs he had seen her in the last time. He snorted in disgust; so even psychotic bitches let their hair down sometimes.
Her expression clouded. "Get down," she barked, releasing the vice on his head. When he didn't move, she swiped her wand left.
Yelping, he hurtled off the bed and crashed on the floor. Picking himself up, he balled his fists and glared. She sashayed over to the bed and perched on the edge, never letting her dark eyes off him. He had half the mind to tackle her, but the wand pointing at his chest made him reconsider.
Bellatrix crossed her legs, then uncrossed them, the motion drawing his gaze. Licking her lips, she gestured at him.
"Strip."
He only stared, unable to comprehend the order. What was she playing at?
Sighing impatiently, Bellatrix flicked her wand, ripping down his trousers and underwear both. She cackled as he cried out and stooped to grab them.
"On your knees," she said.
Heedless, he frantically tugged up his trousers, but before he could get them on, an immeasurable weight pressed down on him and forced him to the floor. Gasping, he looked up at her, then quickly covered himself up with his palms.
She laughed shrilly. "No, no. Auntie Bella can't play with you like that. Lift your hands."
Panting in shock, he glowered at her. She waited for a beat, tapping her wand against an open palm, then flicked it. The next breath wouldn't enter his lungs; gasping soundlessly, he clawed at his throat, his eyes bulging out—
Bellatrix flicked her wand again, cackling as he wheezed in air. "Better listen to me if you know what's good for you, Harry. I'm told I have quite a temper. Now, come closer."
Breathing heavily, he edged toward her, the carpet chafing his knees. Bellatrix slipped off her shoes and watched him with an expression that boded him no good. Once her stockinged foot poked his inner thigh, he twitched and made to cover himself again, but thought better of it.
"Stay just like that," she purred, sticking out her tongue to run it along her wand.
He shuddered as her toes prodded his crotch and repressed the urge to shrink away. Her dark eyes watched him ravenously, her lips stretched in a deranged smile. His face burned in humiliation, and he looked away.
Her toe lifted up his bollocks, poked them, then trailed up his limp cock. He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining himself to be somewhere far away. More of her foot brushed against him, pinning his member to his stomach. The pressure increased until she was almost trampling him, and he turned her way with a whimper.
She giggled and reduced the pressure. Getting the message, he didn't turn away, yet stubbornly didn't look at her face.
Bracing her palms on the bed, she extended her other leg and rubbed his member between her smooth feet. His gaze was inadvertently drawn to the darkness under the hem of her dress robes.
Bellatrix giggled, and withdrawing her feet, hiked up her robes. Despite himself, he stared. Her stockings extended halfway up her thighs and were held up by a—garter belt, he reckoned it was called. A gap of pale skin peeked between the stockings and her black lace knickers.
"Like what you see? My husband bought these, but he'd rather force himself on Mudblood whores than perform his duties to me." She spread her legs wide. "Aren't you lucky? Look as much as you please."
Catching himself, he turned his head aside.
"I said look."
Even though there was no spell accompanying her order this time, his head swiveled back in a shameful reflex.
She slowly lowered the wand she had raised and laid it on the blanket. The fingers of her other hand skimmed the lacy waistband of her knickers.
"That's right... Bella will put on a show for you. It would be rude not to watch."
Her foot returned to rub his crotch. Gritting his teeth, he peered up at her as ordered. Satisfied that she had his attention, she slipped her hand into her knickers.
A moan left her lips. He glanced up to her face incredulously, then back down. Her fingers moved rhythmically underneath the lacy fabric. His cock twitched, growing harder.
"Little Harry's not so little anymore," she said in a sing-song voice.
Ducking his head, he looked to where her foot glided against the underside of his erection. He squeezed his eyes shut in shame. She pressed on him hard, and his eyelids flew open. Her fingers moved faster.
"Does Bella's foot feel good?" she asked breathlessly.
"No," he growled. "I hate it—I hate you."
"Hate it? When your nasty cock is leaking so much?" Her toes curled around his crown, then rubbed up and down, slick with precum. "Don't lie to me. Any half-blood should be happy to receive this much from me."
He glared daggers at her. "I'm not. Stop this."
"I will. Right after I get what I came here for." She giggled breathlessly. "Hold off until I come, and I'll leave. But if you don't..." She leaned in, pushing her foot flat against him. "Then I'll know you were lying."
Squaring his jaw, he returned her gaze. If anything, she appeared elated by his defiance. Her teeth captured her lower lip as her heavy-lidded eyes peered down at him. The fingers moving under her knickers produced wet, carnal noises.
A shudder went through her, and her lips parted in a moan. Her foot paused momentarily before inflicting further torment on his throbbing cock. Her eyes narrowed in pleasure. He kept watching—not because he wanted to, he told himself, but because she would curse him otherwise.
"I'm so wet," she breathed, her eyes hazy. "So horny, I'd even take your nasty half-blood cock. Would you like to stick it inside me, Harry? Give it to me hard? Make me scream, like when you cast the Cruciatus Curse on me?"
He bit the inside of his cheek to suppress a moan. Depraved bitch. His fingers clenched on the carpet, his breathing ragged. Her foot slid unceasingly up and down his length, sending jolts of pleasure each time it brushed his swollen crown.
He had to hold on—
He couldn't.
With a strangled groan, he shuddered, spurting hot seed over his belly. Bellatrix exclaimed something, no doubt mocking him, but at that moment, he was beyond caring.
Panting for air, he lifted his head to meet her dark eyes, and all the shame and humiliation washed over him anew.
"You made a mess," she purred, extending her foot. "Clean it."
He gaped at her stockings, stained in places by his seed, then looked up at her.
"With your tongue," she clarified, shoving her foot at his face.
He recoiled in disgust. Her hand rose off the blanket, and her wand swished. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe.
Bellatrix wiggled her foot in invitation. He glared, choking, trying futilely to draw in a breath. Her hand kept moving frantically underneath her knickers as she watched him, her chest heaving. His face contorted. Crawling over to her, he shut his eyes and extended his tongue until he brushed her stockinged foot.
Bellatrix gave a noise of approval, and breath rushed into his lungs at last. Nearly fainting with relief, he lapped at her foot, keeping his eyes shut so he wouldn't have to look at her.
She moaned, a low, drawn-out noise, and her foot bumped his teeth painfully, her toes curling. He drew back, almost gagging, and watched with teary eyes as she shuddered and tilted her head back.
He had half the mind to attack her, but her wand remained clutched in her hand, and the opportunity passed when she straightened up and fixed him with her dark gaze. A satisfied smile played across her lips.
"Little boy couldn't hold back after all. You know what that means." Rising to her feet, she sashayed toward him, gripped him by the hair, and stared right into his eyes. "Bella's going to be back to play with you again."
A howl of rage rose in his chest, and he balled a fist to throw a punch, but she knocked him back with a silent spell. Her cackle rang in his ears before the door slammed shut and he was alone again.