Pairing: Bellatrix/Draco, implied Bellatrix/Narcissa
Prompt: Bellatrix/Draco – “You look very like your mother” on dark_fest
Word Count: 2330
Warnings: Incest, dubious consent, underage characters in sexual situations (Draco is fifteen)
Summary: Draco's recently freed aunt pays him a visit one night…
Author’s Notes: Many thanks to yerawizardamber for betaing.
Draco lay perfectly still in bed. His room was dark, save for the light of the full moon streaming through the window, and so quiet that the silence pressed against his ears. Only his quiet breathing disrupted the stillness of Malfoy Manor.
His quiet breathing, and the sound of a soft footstep outside his door.
Draco jolted at the creak of the floorboard, sitting bolt–upright and reaching for his wand. His hand hovered over the handle as he waited in breathless silence for any more noise.
Slowly, the handle of his door turned and the door swung open. Draco grabbed up his wand, aiming it at the intruder. “Get–”
He fell silent when he saw who it was that had entered his bedroom.
His Aunt Bellatrix looked eerie – eerier than usual – in the moonlight. Her milky skin was bleached of all colour, her sharp features casting shadows over her flesh, her eyes hidden in dark hollows.
Her voice was quiet, high–pitched and tremulous, and Draco thought he heard it quivering as though she was about to cry. No, don’t be stupid, Aunt Bellatrix never cried. Her dark lips parted, and the tip of her tongue ran slowly around them. “Draco, put down your wand…”
He did so, though he kept a wary eye upon her. “Aunt Bellatrix, what are you doing…?”
“I– I only came to see you…”
“What’s wrong?” he asked warily. Bellatrix had never seemed to have much interest in him before. They had spoken, they had interacted, and on a few occasions, he had caught her staring at him, but there was certainly not enough of a connection between aunt and nephew to warrant a midnight trip to his bedroom.
She crossed the room slowly, sitting down on his bed, which only increased Draco’s sense of discomfort. “Aunt Bella, what–”
“Shh…” She leaned forward, holding a finger against his lips, then cupped his face in both her hands, looking at him in the moonlight. Draco’s heart pounded in fear as she gazed intently at him.
“You’re a pretty thing…” she murmured.
“No…” she murmured. “No, don’t call me that, call me Bella…”
He shrank back, batting her hands away and looking at her warily. This whole experience was quite uncanny, and the look on Bellatrix's face – utter rapture, it would seem, as she stared into her nephew's eyes like she could see straight to the bottom of his soul – did little to soothe him.
"I’ve never seen anyone quite so beautiful in my life..." she told him, and her voice was rising in pitch again, still a quiet murmur, but now light, high–pitched, thin and almost girlish. The sound was dissonant with Bellatrix's appearance – her wildness, her face as hollow as a skull, and the burning of her eyes in their sockets. It was unnatural to hear such a soft, sweet voice attached to such an appearance.
"I've wanted you for so long..."
Those words jolted Draco out of his nervous silence, and he batted her hands away quickly. "You– you can't– you can't say things like that to me!"
"Why not?" He saw the ghost of a smile flicker across her lips, though he could not understand why. "Don't you want me? Don't you want me to want you?"
"No! You're my aunt!"
"Is that really so very important?" she asked. "I mean... so many members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black would marry their cousins... their aunts and uncles... even their sisters..." At that last phrase, she closed her eyes for a moment and her thin lips curved quite distinctly into a smile once again before she looked back at Draco.
"Yes! For Merlin's sake, yes, it is that important!" He paused a second, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "Aunt Bella... something's wrong, I suppose, but please... please, I have to ask you to leave my room."
Her lip trembled, and, to his horror, Draco saw her eyes filling with tears. "But– But–"
"But what?" he mumbled, feeling a flash of sympathy in spite of his better judgement.
"But... please don't make me go..."
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't," he told her, trying to sound brave.
"Because I love you..."
It was his turn to close his eyes, too frightened of what he would see in Bellatrix's to look at her. "It doesn't matter. Please leave my room."
"That's exactly what–" Bellatrix murmured, but then broke off, shaking her head. "Never mind..."
Curiosity stirred Draco, just as sympathy had a moment before, but he said nothing. Bellatrix only wanted him to feel sympathy for her. He wasn't going to. He didn't know why she wanted him right then, and he didn't care, he only wanted her to leave before she did something that would hurt him.
Or before he did something he would regret later.
Her hands knotted in his fair hair, jerking his head forward. "Look at me!"
He did, and the second his eyes met hers, the second he looked into those dark irises, tinged with tears that spilled down her cheeks, Draco felt his resolve leave him. She looked so broken, so young and delicate...
That's exactly what she wants you to think! he told himself, but it did no good. He wasn't seeing his aunt and he certainly wasn't seeing an escaped Death Eater, the sociopath that the Ministry of Magic seemed to believe they were searching for. He was looking into eyes that seemed as young as his own, but scarred with memories that could never be undone.
"I'm frightened." Her voice rose another note, and wavered so much that if Draco had not been staring at her right then, he would not have believed she was sincere.
"Of what?" was all he could murmur.
"Everything... Azkaban... the Dementors... the memories... Do you think I'm never afraid, just because I try to look brave?"
"I..." Of course he thought that. She always did look brave, she always looked ready to scorn all those who cowered in fear because she was so much stronger than them. Was he supposed to believe now that she was really just a terrified little girl.
"When I was in Azkaban," she breathed, "with the Dementors all around... do you know what I saw? Do you know what I thought of?"
"Of course you didn't. You couldn't. You're too innocent to know any of that." Her voice had taken on a sudden and decidedly bitter tone. "You don't understand what it is like to have seen the things that I have seen." She tilted her head, lowering her eyelids slightly. "But now you want to know. Now you want to understand, don't you?"
"You want me to tell you what happened to me in that prison? What happened to me before that I remembered?" Her upper lip lifted slightly, twisting her mouth into a hideous sneer. “What I heard when the Dementors were near me?”
“Why are you saying all this to me? Why are you here?” Draco hated how weak and desperate his voice sounded, but could not bring himself to try to sound brave.
Bellatrix’s face crumpled, and she began crying, to Draco’s profound horror. “Because no one else will listen– Mummy and Daddy won’t listen, Andi won’t listen–”
If Draco had not been profoundly afraid before, he was now. “Aunt Bella… your parents aren’t here. Andi – Andromeda – isn’t here.”
“She left me,” Bellatrix mumbled, pulling her knees up against her chest and rocking slowly back and forth. “She left me all alone, with just you…”
“I’m– I’m going to go–” Draco started to stand up, intending to go find his father and ask him what in the name of Merlin was wrong with Bellatrix, but she grabbed him by his shoulders.
“Don’t leave!” Bellatrix grabbed him by his shoulders, digging her fingernails into his flesh. “Please don’t leave me all alone…”
“I’m not– I’ll be back in just a minute–”
Draco tried to let out a yelp as Bellatrix pushed him hard down onto the bed, but his head hit the wall and he was dazed for a moment. By the time he was able to speak again, Bellatrix had pressed a pillow over his mouth.
“Shh…” Her voice had turned suddenly and completely into a delicate croon. “I won’t hurt you, my baby, this will be good… for both of us…”
Draco thrashed, but Bellatrix was stronger than she looked and held him easily, slowly turning to straddle his chest as her hands moved down to the waistband of his pyjama trousers.
“Aunt– get– get off of me!” Draco protested, but Bellatrix’s hands were on him through the soft, thin fabric, and her touches were so light and skilful and pleasant that he could not quite bring himself to fight her off.
“Good…” Bellatrix murmured. She hooked her fingers beneath the fabric and pulled his trousers down. Draco’s face flamed and he looked away – to be seen by a girl for the first time like this… by his aunt no less…
“Pretty…” Her fingers wrapped around his cock, slowly stroking it up and down. “So… pretty… my little baby…”
I’m not your baby…
She climbed off of him and knelt at his side, bending down and allowing her thin lips to touch the head of his cock, then they moved away and brushed the sensitive skin of his lower stomach.
Draco was frozen. He desperately wanted to get rid of her, to call for help or beg her to stop touching him, but despite everything in his brain insisting that this was utterly and completely wrong, he could not help wanting her to go on.
Bellatrix sat back, slowly raising her arms and lifting her nightdress, exposing pale thighs, bony hips, a patch of dark curls nestled between her legs, then her hollowed stomach and shrunken breasts, then she cast the nightdress off and trained her eyes upon her nephew.
“Aunt Bella… what are you doing?”
He didn’t expect an answer to his question, and he didn’t receive one, but what are you doing was the only thought pounding through his mind. He could think of nothing else.
She grasped his hair, twining her long fingers in it and yanking his head back, laying surprisingly gentle kisses up his throat, and finally pressing one to his lips before trailing them back down his chest. She toyed gently with each of his nipples, flicking them with her fingers and sucking them gently, then she forced Draco's knees apart and knelt between his legs.
Draco had never felt so exposed or vulnerable. He knotted his fingers in the bed sheets, keeping as still as he could and wondering what his aunt intended to do to him.
She leaned down, her breasts pressing against his smooth, slim torso, and his vision was obscured by her mass of curly hair. Draco struggled slightly, but all his attempts were half–hearted, and he didn't manage to even dislodge Bellatrix's lips from where they were pressed against his throat, much less her body pressing over his.
"Don't be so afraid, darling," she murmured. "You shouldn't be scared of me... when we both know this is exactly what you want..."
"It's not," Draco whispered, but his voice was so painfully soft he couldn't even hear himself. He wasn't even entirely sure that he had spoken out loud.
Bellatrix's hips moved slightly, and Draco groaned, felling his cock press against the curls beneath her legs. He felt a small throb go through him from his groin outwards, and swallowed back mild arousal. Much as everything in him hated to admit it, his cock swelled just slightly against his aunt's body.
"Mm, good little..." Bellatrix murmured. She ground against him still harder, and though the feeling was increasingly pleasurable, Draco could not fathom why she was doing things this way instead of just fucking him like he assumed she had the intention of doing.
"Don't question what I'm doing," she said sharply. "Just lie still and take it... take it like the good little girl you are..." Her voice turned to a sensual purr, and Draco shuddered.
"I'm not a–"
"Shut up," she ordered him. "I'm telling you to take it, and you will take it."
So he bit his lip and did not protest as she rubbed against him, as she took his hand and pulled it down between her thighs, guiding his fingers to a hard nub of flesh and instructed him to rub it. He did as she asked, more afraid of the consequences if he did not than he would have liked to admit, and watched as his aunt's face registered absolute ecstasy.
"Oh– oh–" she panted, grinding down against his fingers. "Oh, that's perfect..." She clutched his cock in her hand, squeezing and rubbing it in return for his touches, and Draco gulped for air. Her hand felt so good...
"Oh– fuck me..." she breathed, looking completely lost in the moment.
Draco's heart pounded in fear. He took his hand off of her to guide his cock into the right position, but she shook her head wildly. “Your fingers– fuck me with your fingers..."
So he did, paying attention to which movements made her moan and doing his best to replicate those actions until, at long last, her back arched and she tightened around his hand, gasping incoherently.
She fell down into his arms, her body heaving, and Draco lay perfectly still, afraid to move for fear of angering her. Or for fear of showing how she had aroused him.
“You are…” Bellatrix murmured, brushing her lips against the back of Draco’s neck and sending shivers down his spine. “You are so very like your mother…”
“You are very like your mother,” Bellatrix repeated. “She always felt… just the way you did.”