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The characters and the situations within these fanfiction stories are
not my property. They are the property of J.K. Rowling, Warner
Brothers, and others, and are used without permission; challenge to
copyright is not intended and should not be construed. No profit is
being made from the use of these characters and situations; these
written-down imaginings are only presented in an internet forum for the
interest of and consumption by the like-minded individuals who enjoy
them and recognize them as unauthorized fanfiction only, and are not in
any way meant to be confused with the originals NOR presented as
authorized materials of these owners.
One Night In October
Pairing: Bellatrix/Lily (non-con)
Warnings: Dark, non-con featuring rapists with deadly intentions.
Not quite snuff, but very nasty. Character Death.
Summary: Voldemort didn't go alone to the Potter house that
A/N: Thanks to Florahart for beta duty. Written for the
pornish_pixies Fantasy Fest Spring 2006, for this
prompt of zeltkaiserin's: Marauder Era
Lily/Bellatrix, Lily gagged with tape, Bella in latex, Narcissa or
Andromeda as slave assistant = bonus. Oof, this is probably
the nastiest thing I've written; I'm so sorry if
this is not at all what you would have wanted! *hides* And, er, for
that tape...I sort of changed that "t" to an "r." *goes back into
James was dead and Lily's mouth was full of Bella's cunt.
Bellatrix's laughter wasn't the crazy-mad howl any longer, it was the
low chuckle that fancied itself wicked. Lily preferred the howl. The
howl would have drowned out Harry's mucus-wet sobs from the crib, and
possibly the lunatic bitch would have forgotten he was there.
Not that she appeared to be listening at the moment. "Filthy little
half-breed, you should be pleased I let that tongue of yours anywhere
near me," she was hissing, grinding her cunt ever harder against Lily's
mouth and nose. She'd come clad for the occasion, the sick
fuck--nothing beneath those robes save the slick gleam of the corset
about her waist. "Show me how appreciative you are and use it."
The bitch had done something to the Petrificus jinx
that held Lily immobile on her back, leeching the spell from her neck
on up and no more, so that Lily would be capable of complying. Of
course, it had set more than just her tongue free. Jaws. Teeth.
Which she was an instant from sinking into that loose, rubbery
flesh--when she realized the paralysis was slipping lower. Her
shoulders. She could effect the most minute of shrugs; not much use,
but evidence the Petrificus was wearing off.
"Do it, or I put this through an eye," snarled Bellatrix, wandtip held
so close to the organ in question it grazed Lily's lashes.
The paralysis had slipped down almost to her elbows. She was going to
smother--or have a wand driven into her brain--before it reached her
hands. And then she would be with James.
A wet snuffle of a hiccup from the crib.
Lily wormed her tongue into the slick, sour folds, doing what she could
to suck air through her nose at the same time she tried to imitate
enthusiastic licking. Bellatrix's cunt was humid as a swamp and no less
foul, and it humped her face greedily over even that much movement of
her tongue. "Oh, yesss, you eager little slut, eat me, that's it.
You're good for nothing better." Lily made a noise that the mad bitch
could take as she would--a groan of protest, a moan of eagerness; she
doubted Bellatrix would object to either, in her excitement.
Just keep her attention.
Sliding her tongue from the damp opening all the way to the
hair-covered mound, Lily was rewarded with another hiss of "Oh,
yes," and a shifting of the woman's hips, granting
her just that much more breathing space and the opportunity to feign
willing attention to Bellatrix's clit. She latched onto it, sucking
keenly, as if she could draw blood. Bellatrix went mad for it, tossing
her head back with a tumble of black hair, shoving her pubic bone hard
against Lily's jaws as she seized a handful of Lily's own hair. "More,
oh, harder, yes."
The wand no longer pointed at her eye but wandered loosely in
Bellatrix's grip. Lily felt the paralysis creeping down her palms,
almost free to the fingertips--where was her own wand? Would she be
able to reach it? If she waited until she could get to her feet--
Bellatrix gave an obscene squeal. Lily sucked at the flesh between her
lips, jerking involuntarily as Bellatrix brought her wand hand behind
her, poking its tip between Lily's spread thighs. "Oh, you like that,
filthy cunt, want some of the same yourself. I should fuck you with
this--" the wand stabbed harder, prevented from the threat by no more
than the fabric of her knickers-- "would you like that?" Bellatrix's
lips had peeled back from her teeth and she was foaming with every
sentence, spittle landing in Lily's eyes and hair. "That's all that
Mudblood twat deserves to have up it. Keep filth like you from breeding
in the first place. Is that sewer of a womb of yours pregnant again,
hmm, is it? Should I shove this up you and see if I can impale another
of your loathsome spawn through its unborn heart?"
Wait, Lily beseeched herself, wait. You
haven't room to make a mistake--if you can't get the wand first
"Bella!" Lily froze. Bellatrix didn't. The figure in the doorway still
had its hood and mask up, but it was a woman's voice. "What in
Morgana's name are you doing?"
"Having a wonderful time, of course." Another of those mad howls of
laughter. "Come join me, Cissy."
"You're mad! The Dark Lord--"
"--sent me up here to handle things. And I'm
handling them, Cissy, oh, I'm handling them." She pointed her wand at
her masked sister. "Get over here and help me. Get her naked so I can
fuck her. And then I want to taste her breasts, see if a Mudblood's
milk can get you rat-faced, like we used to say in school."
The jaw is the strongest muscle in the body.
Lily bit, and grabbed for Bellatrix's wand with both hands.
Bellatrix screamed. Lily had to spit blood as she flung out her wand
arm and shrilled the spell at the target in the doorway. Narcissa
Malfoy went down in a satisfying crumple. But Bellatrix's
incapacitation was no more than momentary, and Lily still could not
stand; in the next moment the screeching Bellatrix had one hand on
Lily's throat and the other clawing at her wrist, twisting it to make
her give up the prize. She wouldn't get it. She would never never never
"Accio wand!" came a high, tight male voice from the
doorway. The wand flew from Lily's fingers as if greased, and she would
have wailed had she had breath.
"Bella." The voice was ice. "Duty first, play
It was the sort of thing that should have been said amusedly, wickedly.
It was not. Even Lestrange the Mad wept under the anger of that voice.
"Master..." she whimpered.
The red-eyed man turned his gaze away from his chastened underling to
"No!" Bellatrix was dead weight as Lily surged from under her. But she
still didn't have the use of her feet.
All she had was her life.
She caught a slat of the crib as she fell, fell between Voldemort and
Harry. "No. Take me. Kill me instead."
"Stand aside, you silly girl."
But she wasn't standing, couldn't. He was the absurd one, not she. "Not
Harry," she whispered. Not a plea. A refusal.
The wand turned from her son to her.
To outlive one's child is a terrible thing, she had
time to recall, just before the flash of green.
Some meta notes:
This was one of those stories in which I saw the prompt and the whole
story jumped into my head. (Not a very long story, granted, so, not
that much of a feat.) But instantly I knew I had a problem--was this a
story or was it smut?
Because from the very first line, I had killed my own sexy.
James was dead--right there, the story's become
horror for me. I don't enjoy non-con when there's death. The threat of
death, certainly, can heighten the tension for me--I do get off
(intensely) on "Submit to this or we'll kill your best friend/your
sweetheart/this innocent person whose blood will be on your head." But
when I do, it's because I'm writing the story and know that that line
will not be crossed. The victim will submit, the threatened person will
And the story leapt into my head and it was about Bella using Lily
viciously on the night Voldemort came to kill them. It wasn't quite
snuff, which--by my guidelines above--turns me off, but it still
crossed the lines of Don't Go There, Not Sexy Anymore, La La La I Can't
So did I write it as horror, then? I did not. I wrote it as non-con
erotica. I told myself, you must glean the sexy where you can, find the
button-pushing moments and get them in there, even though you know how
the plot started and how it will finish.
I did this by being honest. I started with James was
dead. Lily does not get turned on by what's happening. She
doesn't use sexy words to describe her rapist's anatomy. If I'd given
her even the scantest bit of oooh-maybe-I'm-starting-to-like-this in
the wake of James's death, I'd have raspberried the screen until it
shorted out. There is arousal in the story, though--Bella's. And even
though we're not in Bella's head, I displayed her arousal wherever
possible. Sneaking up on the reader. And I used one of my favorite
intensifiers: the dirty talk that spins an even more over-the-top
fantasy in the middle of the scene being played.
When Bella orders Narcissa to assist her, describes what she wants to
do to Lily--that, see, that was the scene I really wanted to write.
That moment caught me up, had me moaning, had me wanting Bellatrix and
Narcissa to steal Lily away and do all those filthy things and more
more more and to keep her for five years as their
sexual pet, five years ten years more denied orgasm for every one of
those years yes yes yesss.
'S not what happened in canon, dammit. And if I'd changed that--and,
while I was at it, done away with the inconvenience of that dead
husband in the foyer that was also killing my sexy--seriously AU, dude.
And if it goes that seriously AU...that means I don't need it to be
I don't need fanfiction to write "evil mistress steals pretty victim
away and makes her her abused sexual pet"--I've written that. I've
written that a LOT. Shoot, I wrote a novella of that
some years back.
So. I apologize to zeltkaiserin, for sandwiching her
tasty naughty request between unhappy plotty moments. Brain works that
way sometimes. Darned brain.
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