Covered in Crimson
Manipulations
“Is everything ready, husband?” Bella queried as she glided into the dimly lit, awful smelling laboratory.
“As it will ever be, dearest,” came the uncharacteristically warm reply from the normally gruff man. Rodolphus was as happy as he’d been in an age, and a snarling smile displayed crooked, tobacco-stained teeth.
“Good. Give me the package. I can’t be late. Draco leaves for Hogsmeade tomorrow morning at 9:00, and my sister will have made sure everything is packed before they retire tonight.”
“You won’t be late, Bella. Stop fussing. I just wanted to test the potion one last time to be sure that the alterations can’t be detected.”
“You’ve tested it nine times and I’ve tested it six. It’s never shown to be anything other than a delectable tidbit. We’ve done this perfectly, and it’s time to go! I’m losing my patience,” Bella seethed between clenched teeth.
“Fine. Here it is.” With a last breath of annoyance and exasperation, Rodolphus handed the beautifully wrapped package to his irritated wife. “If you do this right, they’ll never think that it’s something they should be checking. Don’t screw it up.”
With a wide-eyed glare, Bellatrix grabbed at the package her husband offered in out-stretched hand. “You’ve got plenty of supply?” she asked in confirmation. His curt nod was the silent reply she’d anticipated.
“Good. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
Bella departed through the Floo network for her sister’s home, a smirk worthy of the House of Malfoy marring her features.
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Draco slept soundly in his massive, silk-covered bed. He’d had a wonderful summer holiday, relaxing at the family villa in Milan, reading, celebrating his fifteenth birthday, and enjoying his first real sexual experiences with a girl he’d met while visiting with Blaise Zabini on the French Riviera. It had been the happiest time of his life. Tonight, he dreamed of Quidditch and potions classes and the weekly care packages he knew his mother would send. Draco’s sweet tooth – and his great reluctance to share – was legendary among his Slytherin housemates. Only the finest confections were allowed to pass the lips of young Mr. Malfoy, except for the occasional Sugar Quill, which was the guiltiest of his culinary pleasures. And Narcissa Malfoy was an indulgent mother, regardless of her husband’s protestations of her perceived spoiling of the young one.
So when a beautiful package of confections was added to the pile that would be accompanying Draco back to Hogwarts in the morning, no one was suspicious and no alarm was raised. The rich, dark chocolate truffles, filled with Hawaiian macadamia nuts, coated in the best Dutch cocoa powder and laced with three potions that would alter his very nature, would become Draco’s new favorite treat.
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A manic cackle split the air of the Lestrange residence as Bella returned from her nefarious mission. “It’s done, Rodolphus! He’ll be ours in a matter of weeks. The Dark Lord will be so pleased.” Bella twirled around the room like a child dancing in a new dress, arms upraised, face alight with fulfillment. From a dark corner of the room, her husband, pleasantly affected by the immoderate quantities of firewhiskey he’d consumed, watched her move with amusement as he lounged on an antique settee.
“Come here, witch,” he growled, tugging her into his lap as she spun past him. She responded with a growl of her own, and bared her teeth to nip at his neck. He shivered in response, and downed the remains of his drink in one swallow, carelessly dropping the glass on the floor as his attentions were diverted elsewhere. He roughly grabbed at his wife’s breast, grinding his palm against the distended tip. When she moaned in satisfaction, he grasped the top of her robe’s bodice and ripped it down in one swift motion. Finding his target, Rodolphus scraped his teeth against her straining breast, biting down harder and then suckling on the nipple as she pushed toward him. Lifting her skirt, she shifted around to straddle his lap, placing one knee on either side of his thighs. She could feel his growing erection throbbing against her center. Raising just enough to allow his hands room to unbutton his trousers, Bella took his lower lip between her teeth and nibbled. When he was free of the confinement of his pants, she positioned herself over his stiffened length. “Now. Hard,” she rasped. He obliged.
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Draco’s trip back to Hogwarts was uneventful, a mind-numbing journey punctuated by a visit from Pansy Parkinson who whined about not having seen him over the holiday, and the constant presence of Crabbe and Goyle, who sniggered over their own inane commentary and innuendo. Draco’s patience with them was wearing thin. Was intelligent conversation too much to ask, he wondered? Sadly, he’d found few opportunities for that with his Slytherin comrades. Only Zabini among his classmates seemed to value intellectual debate and discourse, and while they were friends – as much as any Slytherin was wont to be – they were not so close that they’d spend hours in each other’s company. Draco couldn’t really seek out companionship among other houses; it just wasn’t done. As much as he might have valued the mental stimulation he might have found in a friendship with a Ravenclaw, or the excitement the Gryffindors seemed to relish together, he’d be ostracized from his pureblood society without a second thought. Hufflepuffs really weren’t worth the mention or notice, so his sole source of relationships was the sorry group of Slytherins who shared his living space during nine months of the year. Looking out the window of the Hogwarts Express, Draco sighed and resigned himself to finding new sources of amusement in his own imagination.
He looked forward to settling in to his new dorm room. Fifth year boys got a little more space, being considered upperclassmen now. By virtue of his place in the pecking order, he’d command first choice of bed and storage space, and he’d do his best to ensure as much privacy as he could muster while sharing sleeping quarters with four other teenagers. The house-elf assigned to their dormitory would then unpack his clothes, books, supplies, and sundry items while he sorted through the goodies his mother had certainly sent along. The aggravation of the long train ride, and the shorter but no less annoying Sorting and Welcoming Feast, surely deserved a little treat to sooth him before retiring for the night.
Draco was not disappointed. He found no fewer than seven packages of assorted sweets tucked into a large hamper that had accompanied his trunks on the journey from Wiltshire. One in the bunch was intriguing; he’d never seen this particular wrapping – a shiny silver box tied with a lavish and intricate green and silver bow – and his curiosity was piqued. He leaned against his headboard with the package on his lap, and with a flick of his wand drew the draperies around his bed for some quiet and privacy. He untied the bow and opened the box, finding lovely truffles just waiting to be devoured. Eagerly, he lifted one to his lips and bit into the center, releasing a delighted moan with a roll of his eyes as the flavor reached his taste buds, and the insidious potion contained therein hit his bloodstream. These creations were beyond delicious, and he was positively hooked. He ate one more, then set the box aside. Quickly stripping out of his clothes, Draco pulled on a pair of silk sleep pants and crawled under the covers, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.