From Bad to Worse

This chapter will be a rerun for anyone who saw this story on RS.org. I have given up over there, and am only posting the story here now, but I decided to switch it out from how it was originally posted. For those of you who have seen it before, sorry for making you read it again. And thank you for coming back. :)


Seventh Year

It happened so fast that Harry never even felt it coming. He was headed down to Hagrid’s to tell his old professor good-bye. He knew that there was always a chance he wouldn’t see these people, his friends, ever again. So, every time he left them, he made it a point to see them. He would wait until he was headed off to give his farewell to Hermione and Ron.

He was at the top of the hill, looking down on Hagrid’s cabin, when the pain hit him. It knocked him to his knees, sending his body into convulsions, and he let out a scream. He should have recognized immediately that it wasn’t the Cruciatus curse, but his mind wasn’t working quite that well. Whatever curse it was, the pain was sufficient to drive all thoughts from his head.

A pair of strong hands grabbed him almost as soon as the pain stopped, and he felt himself being thrown over a thick, knobby shoulder. “Got ‘im. Ya kick me boy an’ it’ll be the las’ thing ya do.”

Harry was jostled and saw the ground passing along under him as he was carried away. He tried to lift his head to see where they were, to see if someone was around who could help him, but he simply couldn’t. The pain had all but drained him, and he felt blackness edging in on his eyes.

He saw, from the corner of his darkening vision, the gates of Hogwarts pass by, and no sooner than they were there, he felt the squeezing feeling that accompanied Apparition.

His breath came back to him just in time for him to be thrown to the ground and it was knocked out of him again. “My Lord,” the same male voice grated, just over Harry’s prone form. “The Potter boy, sir.”

“Well, well. Had I known it would be this easy, I’d have done it a long time ago.” The high, cold voice was the same that haunted Harry’s nightmares, and even in his near unconscious state, it sent a shiver through him. “Welcome, Harry. So very glad you could join us.”

Harry managed to open his eyes just enough to look up into the white, snake-like visage of his mortal enemy. Voldemort was standing just beside him now, his black robes brushing against Harry’s shoulder. Harry turned his head toward him, fighting the need to black-out for just a second longer, and spit on his boots.

A foot connected harshly with his cheek bone and he lost his battle with consciousness.

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Harry came to and immediately had to roll over and retch. There was a pain in his cheek that felt like fire, and his head ached worse than he could ever remember it doing. He tried to open his eyes, but his left one refused to move. His right one opened only grudgingly.

He was laying on something soft, a blanket maybe, but whatever was under the blanket was hard as stone. He tried to move his hands to feel around him, but they remained firmly fixed over his head. One tug told him they were chained there.

He was cold, and he glanced down to see that there was a good reason for this. He was naked, covered only by a thin, worn blanket. His feet, when he tested them, were bound too, although he couldn’t see to what.

He sighed, laying his head back. He seemed relatively unharmed, save the swollen left eye, but he didn’t expect that to last long.

“Well, well. The little one has awoken at last.”

Harry knew that voice. He cringed at the sound of it. “Go away,” he muttered, letting his eyes slide shut.

“Aww, don’t be like that, dear boy.” She was moving closer, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls. “You should be glad to see me. It means you have a little longer to live.”

“You call this living, do you?” Harry snapped, wincing at the pain in his jaw.

“Oh, but it is. You just don’t realize it yet. Perhaps I should show you how much worse it could get, hmm?” She was standing right beside him now and he felt something cold touch his bare chest. “Would you like that, Potter? Would it make you feel better if you knew that this is far from the worst I could do to you?”

“Bugger off.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He expected a curse, something particularly painful or nasty. He braced himself for the pain. Then, something warm brushed over his neck and he jumped, forcing his eye open again.

She was bent over him, pressing her lips to his skin, and he recoiled as much as he could. “Get off me,” he hissed, trying to scoot away.

She laughed, low and throaty, bringing her mouth down against him again, her tongue sneaking out and sliding against his ear. “You taste like dry wine. Did you know that?”

“Go the fuck away,” he muttered, shutting his eyes again.

Her fingers came up to his face, curling around his chin, tugging so he had to look toward her. He let out a cry as her thumb dug into the bruise on his cheek, and she took the opportunity to capture his mouth in a deep kiss. Her tongue slid against his and it was all he could do not to gag.

Her free hand moved over his chest, running across it until she came in contact with a nipple and she pinched it hard. His back arched and his next cry was lost in her mouth.

“Ooh, little Potter likes it rough,” she murmured, flicking her tongue against his lips. “Who would have thought it.”

“Get off me,” he said again, but his breath caught in his throat.

She giggled again. “Oh, but you don’t really want me to do that, do you?” She was sliding her hand down his stomach, her fingertips brushing across his cock. His body, apparently, didn’t want her to go away, because his cock twitched and began hardening almost immediately. She stroked it, humming appreciatively against his mouth. “Nice. Not huge, but definitely doable.”

He grunted softly, his eyes sliding shut again. She knew how to do this all too well, and he felt himself getting lost in it.

The pain hit him so hard that it took his breath. It started right where her hand was touching him and spread out quickly, flooding through his body like a tidal wave. He screamed, arching his back, then trying to curl back in on himself. He felt like he was burning up from the inside out; blistering agony was eating at his very cells.

When it stopped, he lay there, shaking, his breath coming in pants and whimpers. He wanted to black-out again, but didn’t. He was vaguely aware that there were shooting pains in his ankles and wrists, and something warm was sliding down the inside of his arm.

He had almost forgotten she was even there, until he felt her breath on his ear again. “Now do you see, little one? That was the best and the—well, not the worst, certainly, but a taste of just how bad it can get. So, it’s up to you which you chose to live with.”

She brushed her lips over his cheek, letting them linger against his skin. He barely had the strength to flinch away. She just laughed when he tried to.

“I’ll give you some time, little one. Just remember that I can show you things you’ve never imagined, even in your wettest dreams.”

And she left, extinguishing the torches and plunging the room into darkness.

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He finally drifted off from pure exhaustion, only to be awakened again several hours later. The room was lit again, and warmer than it had been before. He could get his left eye to open a slit, but it made no difference, really, since his glasses had been removed.

“Good evening, little one,” Bellatrix said, bending over him to place a kiss on his lips. “I was afraid you were going to sleep the rest of the night away.” Her hand came up to slide over his chest again. “Have you made your decision, then?”

He was too tired to answer, barely able to even keep his eyes open. He forced out a grunt, and she grinned.

“Well, I can’t say I understood that answer, but I’ll assume you don’t want it to go the hard way. I didn’t either, to be honest. When the Dark Lord said I could play with you as much as I liked, well, this is the kind of playing I was hoping for. I’m not sure it’s what he had in mind, but he should have been more specific, shouldn’t he?”

She climbed up on the platform on which he was laying and straddled him, leaning down to catch his lips in a kiss. He didn’t have the strength to respond in any way. In fact, he didn’t know how he would have responded had he been able to. As much as he despised the woman on top of him, it felt damn good to have her touching him. He supposed it could, indeed, be much worse.

She sat up, reaching her hand behind her, and took a firm hold on his cock. As she started to stroke him, he let out a groan and shut his eyes. She was so good with her hands, and she seemed to know just what he liked.

When she let go, he moaned at the loss of touch. “Easy there,” she laughed. “I’m not done with you just yet.”

He muttered something that was indistinct, even to him. He heard the sound of a zipper being pulled and felt warm skin brush his. He forced his eyes open again to see that she was now completely naked on top of him. She grinned down at him, her eyes sparkling out from beneath their heavy lids.

“Do you want me to ride you, little one?”

He felt her bum press back against him and he moaned softly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She lifted her hips, hovering over the tip of his stiff cock. Then, ever so slowly, she lowered herself toward it. The first bit of contact was like a shot of electricity coursing through him. His hands clenched and unclenched of their own accord and his hips arched up toward her. She flattened her hand on his stomach, pushing him back down. “Patience, little one,” she whispered, leaning to brush a kiss on his mouth. “We have to get used to each other, now don’t we?”

And with the same, painful slowness, she pushed herself down onto him. It seemed to take hours before he was fully encased inside of her. When she finally got there, however, it was worth every second of waiting. She rolled her hips, pulling off a little before sinking back down and he sighed.

“Mmm, you fit well, don’t you? Nice and tight.” He could only grunt in response, straining his hips up to meet hers. “Rodolphus is so small, three of him could fit it in me and it still wouldn’t be this---ungh, tight. Of course, you sent him back to Azkaban, didn’t you? So I don’t even have him to play with anymore.” She continued to lift and sink upon him, sighing each time. “Oh God, you feel so good. I’ll bet Cissy would even enjoy a good romp with you. She likes to be eaten, though. Are you any good with your tongue?”

Harry had no clue if she actually expected him to answer or not. He was, frankly, amazed that she could be so calmly carrying on a conversation with him when he was fighting just to remember his bloody name.

“Well, I’ll just put that on the list of things I need to find out, huh?” She sank down again, squeezing around him, wringing his cock with her inner walls. “Too bad your hands aren’t free. I could sure use one of them right now.”

Harry groaned as she lifted again. “You could—let them go.”

“Ah, he does still remember how to speak. Sorry, little one, but I can’t do that. You’re nice and compliant this way. The Dark Lord doesn’t want any trouble from you, and this way, you can’t give any.” She bent and pressed her mouth to his, sucking on his bottom lip. “Come on, Potter. Kiss me.”

He opened his mouth against hers, sliding his tongue against hers, timing it with the slow thrust she was making with her hips, so that he was fucking her on both ends. She groaned, pressing her mouth tighter against his. Her hips went still and he took up the slack, pushing up into her. He did it harder than she’d been doing it, and increased the pressure with his tongue as well, and she let out a muffled cry.

He was glad when she sat back and took over the movements again, because it was putting a lot of strain on him to keep pumping. “Damn, little one,” she grinned, speeding her pace. “You’re an amazing fuck, aren’t you? Full of surprises. I think I’m gonna like having you around.” She was positively bouncing on him now, her finger sliding down to run over her clitoris, and she let out a moan. “So bloody good.”

He rolled his hips so that he came up to meet her as she pushed down and heard her breath catch. He chewed his lip, willing himself to hold on just a little longer. She started to grunt, the pitch of them going higher with every thrust and he knew she was all but there.

Then, she stopped. She was still plying at her clit and he heard her gasp, then moan again, but she was lifting herself off of him as she did, so that she was leaning over him as she came.

She captured his mouth in another deep kiss as she came down from it, then leaned back and stared down at him. “Thanks for that, little one. It was incredible.”

He stared up at her, frowning. “Wait,” he moaned as he felt her start to climb off of him. “Please, I didn’t--.”

“Well, of course not, Potter,” she chuckled, sliding her robes back on. “You didn’t honestly think I was in this for you, did you? You’re a prisoner here, little one. You’re not entitled to orgasm.”

He groaned, desperate to feel something, anything on his aching cock. “Please, God. Just touch it again. Please.”

She laughed again, louder this time. “Aww, listen to how quickly he begs for it. You won’t be hard to break, will you? One little fuck and you’re all ready to give in.”

He scowled at her, tugging against his restraints. Pain flashed down his arms and he cried out, letting them drop down again.

“You’ll want to stop that,” she whispered against his ear. “You’ve already cut your wrists open and if you keep that up, you’re going to end up bleeding to death.”

“Fuck you,” he snarled, turning his head away.

She giggled, running her hand over his hair. “See you later, little one.”

And the room went black again as she left.

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It was several more days before she came back. In the meantime, several other of the Death Eaters had filed through the room. A few had cast curses at him, laughing raucously as he writhed in pain. They’d all made some joke at his expense, including taking the blanket covering him to leave him bare, shivering in the now frigid air of the room.

He only knew one day from the next by the frequency of Wormtail’s visits. The man would bring him a piece of bread and a glass of water for both breakfast and lunch, and for dinner he would usually get a little cheese or fruit and some wine.

At first, he’d refused it. He’d turn his head away, or close his eyes and pretend that his father’s old friend wasn’t trying to force-feed him. Finally, however, the hunger had gotten the best of him. It was literally shameful for him, to be eating from Wormtail’s nasty little hands, but a few days without food was enough to make him forget to be proud. As if it was all that hard considering what he’d already been through.

One evening, she followed Wormtail in, smirking at him. “Hello, little one. We’ve brought you a nice dinner. Have to keep your strength up, after all.”

He turned his head, refusing to look at her. Wormtail scuffled over to the side of his platform, laying the tray on a conjured table next to it. “Come on, boy. Turn around here so we can get this over with,” the little man sniffed.

“He’s playing shy,” Bella laughed, wandering around to the other side of the platform so she was facing him. “Are we suddenly shy, little one? You certainly weren’t so shy a few days ago. You were ready to fuck me senseless and now you won’t even eat in front of me.”

“Bugger off,” he snapped.

“Aww, he’s throwing a little fit, Wormtail. Poor baby Potter is mad because I didn’t let him get off. He can’t take a little teasing.”

Harry ground his teeth but turned away again, facing Wormtail. “Can’t you get her the fuck out of here?”

“Eat,” Wormtail muttered, shoving a slice of apple at him.

“Now, Wormtail. That’s not how you feed a little prince like this. Let me show you.” Bella rounded to face him again, taking the fruit from Wormtail. “Like this.” She held it out right in front of Harry’s face. “Here, little one. Eat up, now.”

Harry rolled his head to look resolutely at the ceiling. “Get away from me.”

“Are you not hungry, then?” she asked, dangling the bit of apple over his face.

“Fuck off.”

“All right then. Take it away, Wormtail. He’s in too much of a pique to eat.” She leaned over Harry, grinning at him. When Wormtail left, Bella lost the grin. “Now, little one. I let you have this little snit, but don’t think I’ll be so kind next time. You’ll learn to respect me, or you’ll pay dearly for it.”

Harry huffed, glaring at her. “Respect you? You’re a foul, loathsome piece of trash.”

Her expression never changed. She simply waved her wand and a shot of pain ran through him, causing him to howl. It was short-lived, but intense. “That’s just a warning, Potter. Now, be a nice boy and get it up for me.”

He ground his teeth, knowing what the next words would cost him. “I’d sooner die than let you touch me again.”

This time, the blast of pain was anything but short-lived. He screamed until his throat was raw, and by the time the pain died off, he was sore everywhere. “Don’t be so quick to wish for death, little one. Especially not around one who’s not afraid to give it to you.” She circled him, watching him pant and twitch. “Are we going to play nice or do you need a little more convincing?”

He tried to mutter a curse at her, but his mouth wasn’t working quite right. And he assumed she missed the gesture he made with his hand since she didn’t hit him with another curse of her own.

She leaned over him and slid her tongue across his mouth, and he leaned his head up just enough to catch it between his teeth and bite it as hard as he could. She cried out, jerking back and splattering him with blood from the open cut he’d left.

Then, she hit him. She punched him sharply, twice, in the jaw. It occurred to him, as he tried to clear the stars from his vision that she could hit quite hard for a woman. “You wanna’ play rough?” she snapped, spitting a great deal of blood out onto the floor. “I can play rough, Potter. I can make you truly understand what pain is. I wanted this to be easy on you.”

The next curse she sent through him made him black-out.