The Life and Times of Denebola Black

Hermione turned around after she entered the arena to see the amount of people who turned up. It looked about thirty. Not bad, considering that they would have all come by word of mouth from the one day. There were mostly families from the inner circle and a few scattered people who could always be counted upon to come and watch the suffering of others. Even some sixth and seventh years were present as they were on Christmas holiday.

When David noticed the croud of people he started to struggle again. In response, Deni tugged harder on his reigns and at the flash of pain he unconciously stopped moving. With a flick of her wand and a whispered phrase, the Shrew's Fiddle vanished from his body and reappeared on a table across the arena. With his restraints gone he lunged for Deni, his hands outstretched as though to catch her by the neck.

He was two inches away from her delicate skin when he could get no closer. He first moved his hand to grab her arm and the same thing happened; he was rebuffed, not forcing him away, but not letting him any closer either. With the swiftness of a snake she reached out her own hands and grabbed a hold of his wrists with a strength he wouldn't have expected from Mr. T. "You know what David?" she asked. "I feel like dancing for our audience. What about you?"

"Fuck you, you little whore," came the growled out response.

"Well, if you don't want to cooperate, I guess I'll just have to make you."

"Let's just see you try, Missy." At this retort, everyone in the stands started to laugh. He thought it was because she was saying something so utterly hilarious, as they could see as well as him that he had at least a hundred pounds on the young lady, most of it muscle from working out in prison.

She let go of one of her hands and moved her wand both at him and herself, changing their clothes into identical childern's ballet uniforms, complete with pink tutu. "What the fuck?" he cursed in question before he turned his words back to her. "What the fuck have you done to me you little bitch!" He lunged at her again, having not learned his lesson from the first time of not reaching her, and never causing her to waver in her curious smile.

This time, about a foot before he reached her she pointed the wand at him and whispered one word. "Imperio!" He stopped with such a force that in all rights he should have fallen to the floor but instead stood stock-still. She gave her wand another flick and music filled the whole room. She stood in the middle of the room and announced to the audience, "In honour of it being Christmas, David and I present for you, The Nutcracker Suite!"

With that she started dancing, and her present started mimicking her exactly. When she stood on her toes and started flitting about the room, he did the same, only with his massive weight on his two toes, he heard as well as felt them break. When she jumped gracefully over a metal chair and landed into a spin, he followed with slightly different results. In his jump he managed to slam his balls on the corner of the chair and at his landing her felt his ankle snap, but he continued to give everyone a large smile. This continued for another fifteen minutes with the croud interspersing groans, cheers and suggestions as though they were at a sports match.

She changed herself back into her vinly gown but left him in his ballerina costume. The second she let go of the Imperius Charm on him, he fell to the floor with tears welling in his eyes at the pain of not only his ankle and toes, but also his broken shin and torn ligaments in his left leg. While he was on the floor she took the opportunity to slip him some Veritiserum.

By then his eyes were dry; after all he was a man and men don't cry. She guided him to sit down in an electric chair while she stood next to him. "So, puppet, how many women have you raped?"

He glared at her, fully intending to tell her to shut the fuck up lest she be the next. What really came out of his mouth was "Thirty-seven." His mouth hung agape, wondering what had come over him.

"And how many men?"

"Ten."

"Children?"

"None." He was very sorry for that fact. Truth be told, while he had no problem getting adults alone, he had some troubles with the children. Perhaps he looked too intimidating, he mused.

"Do you regret it?"

"Only getting caught." Why was he telling the little wench all this? If she told the police they would start looking into the past files where he had been a suspect a couple of times and maybe this time they'd find something to stick to him.

"I think you should repent for your sins." Her voice was ice and the coldness suffused in him but he still managed a snort.

"I don't agree."

"Then I guess I'll have to change your mind." She then took the pitcher of water and poured it over his head and body before turning on the electric chair with a minimum setting; enough so he would be shocked, and painfully so, but there would be no damage to his nervous system.

"You are a fucking cunt bitch!" he managed to choke out through the jolt.

"And I'm okay with that," she answered sweetly. "Do you recant?"

"No." She turned up the amperage and gave him another jolt.

"Now?"

"No."

"Hmmm, I guess that I'll just have to change my tactics a bit." She then walked over to a table, humming along to the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy and picked up what looked to be a two sided barbeque steak fork with a piece of leather attached to the middle. When she made it back to the electric chair, she gave him another shock. She then forced him to stand back up on his broken and strained legs. He no longer had much physical fight left in him; the pain was just too much but he would be damned if he would break mentally for such a little bitch who by rights should be screaming and crying underneath him.

She held up the item she had picked up. "This," she told him, "is called a Heretic Stick. you are only allowed two words while under its.... restraint. 'I repent.' I wonder how long it will take..." she trailed off, her voice dreamy. She then securely tied the leather strap around his neck, two prongs digging into his chest, the other two under his chin, forcing his head up. As she had said, the only words allowed were those of 'I repent', but she hadn't mentioned that in order to say the words he would have to puncture his chin with the stick.

Going to a steel wardrobe off to a side, she pulled out a cat-o-nine whip, the extremely sharp razors inbedded in not only the tips, but all along the tails as well. Her first few assaults on him were soft, though they still broke the skin of his already hurting legs. Once she gat the feel of what she wante to do with this whip she started angling her arm and wrist so that despite the fact that she was standing behind him, the razors cut into the pink lycra of his leotard, leaving small nicks as well as large gashes all over his front, though the most attention was paid to the region of his genitals, and soon his manhood was nothing but a bloody lump. His chest and chin were both bleeding from the where the prongs of the stick dug further and further into his flesh as it became harder and harder to hold his head up. Despite all this, he still refused to speak, his eyes a reflection of pain as well as resolve, albeit that the resolve part was quickly slipping, but it was still there.

After putting away the whip she came up behind him and spoke to him in a low malevolant voice while looking up at their crowd, one hand caressing a bleeding arm. **"They're listening, clamoring. Go ahead, lie to me. Tell me again how you're tortured. You're full of shit. You had a dream, but this ain't it."** She then lowered her voice even more so he would now have to strain to hear it. "If you repent, I will stop this." Deni stood up a bit straighter and moved so she was standing directly in front of him. "So, what will it be?" she asked, her voice carrying to the excited crowd.

She could now see that he had been broken. She also knew that when he spoke, his voice would be hoarse and rather wuiet so she cast a Sonorus on him. Afer two minutes of agonizing anticipation, he spoke whe words. "I repent." There were cheers and catcalls to be heard all around. She had broken him, body and mind just under three hours.

Keeping to her word, she took the device off of his neck before Scourigifying it and placing it back where she had found it. Looking up into the stands, she raised a hand. "Trixie, he's all yours!" He gazed at her, hate written over his features as he opened his mouth to speak but she anticipated what he would say and responded first. "I said that I will stop. I didn't, however say anything about not sharing you."

A grin spread across her face as Bellatrix entered into the arena. "He's all yours, do with him what you will," she said as she kissed the woman's cheek, whose face lit up at the prospect of having been given carte blanche with Deni's Christmas present. Deni then walked out of the arena and up the stairs to her room that was kept in the castle (every inner circle member had one) so that she could take a shower.

When she was no less than ten feet from her room she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She whipped around, her hair flying up and stinging the eyes of her visitor, who raised a hand and rubbed his closed eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Ohhh, I'm sorry," she purred as she moved away his hand and lightly kissed his eyelids. "All better, Minister?" With his glare fixed upon her face she quickly corrected herself. "Lucius."

"Mi-Deni, that was quite a show you put on."

"Thank you, Lucius. Was there something you wanted?"

He tucked a strand of her long dark hair behind her ear as he answered. "I was hoping for a moment of your time."

She looked up into his ice blue eyes and tilted her head, as though considering him. "Can it wait? I need to get this disgusting muggle blood off of me."

He sniffed his nose and wrinkled it up. "I suppose I can see your point." He paused for a moment before continuing with a sly smirk. "Would you care for any help?"

She lifted an eyebrow to him with a little smirk of her own. "As tantalizing as the offer is, I think that I should shower on my own tonight."

He gave a sigh of loss, but let it go. "If that is what you want, my dear," he told her softly, the back of his right hand brushing against her cheek.

"It is. Tonight. Happy Christmas, Minister." She gave him a little curtsy and disappeared into her room.

When she was gone another body slipped out of the shadows. "When I marry her, you will go no where near her. You know that I don't like sharing my things, Father." The voice, while emanating out in a smooth, even keel was fueled by jealousy, and a rage inside the young man at those who would dare to touch what was his. Even if it wasn't his yet.

"Now, now, Draco. What makes you think that Deni will accept your offer?"

"I'm a Malfoy," he answered with a sneer. 'And you're still married to Mother, so you're not an option,' he thought.

"We'll see, Draco. There are many who intend on asking for her, and quite a few who wouldn't mind sharing her."

"Perhaps, but she won't choose them. She will choose me."

"This newfound self-confidance is really rather annoying, Draco. Especially since you couldn't even keep a little slut like Pansy."

Draco stared at his father, icy eyes boring into icy eyes. "I didn't want Pansy. You wanted Pansy for me. Denebola Black will be mine."

a/n. ok people. i know that there are a few of you reading this story. just one review wouldn't hurt you, now would it? not to beg but please?