Despoiling Harry

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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
by Amanuensis

Pairing: Bellatrix/Lily (non-con)
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 night.
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 hiding*

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. Yes.

"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 time--

"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 get it--

"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 later."

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 Harry's crib.

"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 not die.

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 Hear You.

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 fanfiction anymore.

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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