Note to my readers: I'm not quite sure where this is gonna go, just (hopefully) a little thing that'll be a few chapters long... I write because I need somewhere to pour the mess of ideas in my mind into; not because I actually have a finite, detailed plan of how it'll finish exactly. Jeez.
Though I CAN reveal that there will be lots of lovely lesbian lady smut. I've got a thing for FemDraco and Hermione at the moment, so that's the basis of this story, but first we'll be seeing some of the dark lady herself, Bellatrix.
My inspiration for this came from the wonderful human that is the girl that plays Draco in A Very Potter Musical – I adore her, and she's absolutely great at acting the part. You guys should go have a look, because I promise it'll be a good use of your time (what better things have you got to do anyway, if you've ended up on my fanfiction page?)
If you like it, that's great and you get a cookie, if not – thanks for taking a look anyway :3
Notes for this chapter: pairing (temporary) – Bellatrix/FemDraco; warnings – smut (obviously!), a little bit of violence, and there's quite a bit of biting? (Not sure if that's even worth warning you about. Oh well.)
The boys were all fast asleep now; some snored away, hideously loud, others breathed softly. One even whimpered, and her lips curved up in a cold smile, not needing to guess what he was dreaming about. Huge, heavy drapes were just visible from across the room, a deep mossy colour in the light of day, dappled around the edges in emerald light from the water the windows looked out into, moonlight making the murky water a deep, rich green. A sliver of light caught a boy's jumper that was slung over a chair: what appeared to be a silver S from a distance turned out to be the infamous snake of Slytherin emblazoned on it. In the tinted moonlight, she could make out the ancient paintings of famous Slytherins that lined the dark walls of the dorms, the stony, fierce expressions of time-worn witches and wizards in the day transformed to sleepy, snoring ones.
She took a deep, shuddering breath; inhaling through her nose, then out through gritted teeth. She tried to relax the tense muscles in her shoulders, sinking deeper into the four-poster bed, focusing her gaze on the dark curtain above, staring but not seeing. She ran pale fingers down her body, slipping her hands beneath the grey vest top she wore to bed, starting at her tiny breasts – she brushed cold fingertips over her nipples, pinching and pulling just enough to cause them to harden, then flicking to encourage the ache between her thighs. It worked, and the air escaped her lips very softly.
Her underwear stuck against her soaked pussy, girl's boyshorts that she was only too happy to slip herself out of. Her legs were skinny and slender, much like the rest of her; to say she was a girl, unless someone saw her without any clothes on at all, they would not be able to tell. She hadn't been graced with full hips or breasts to speak of that other girls had at her age: the perfect cover to be mistaken for a boy.
The girl that was meant to be Draco Malfoy opened ice grey eyes as her hand slipped lower, rubbing along her wet slit before moving up a little to rub over her clit. It burned, so she rubbed harder, finally relaxing and focusing on the movement of her hand. Soon her breath came quicker, and the coil in her stomach tightened and grew hotter. Her pussy was so slick it made her dizzy. As she grew closer to the edge, she slipped two long fingers inside herself, her thumb rubbing her clit whilst she fucked herself harder and harder, spreading her fingers every so often, pushing herself closer and closer to the edge.
Then it all shattered away into blackness as her pussy tightened around her fingers, trapping them in place, her back arching uncontrollably and a silent scream leaving her lips as she came, her free hand gripping the sage sheets until her pale knuckles turned even whiter. She exhaled heavily, sinking back against the cushions, her whole body weak.
"Dracaena," Narcissa Malfoy studied her daughter intently, dark eyes trying to convey the importance of the situation. "You know what you have to do."
Bellatrix, stood impassively a metre away, who until now had been watching the exchange with a vaguely bored expression, suddenly contributed to the conversation. "Oh, dear Cissy, you've clarified on so many attempts I'm sure the girl must be sick of you."
Dracaena's gaze flickered to her aunt, who narrowed her eyes with a wicked smile at the younger girl, much like she was appraising her next meal. Bellatrix intrigued her in the strongest sense: a whole world away from the strict, authoritarian upbringing Dracaena had been subjected to as a Malfoy; she was different, exciting – though the woman positively screamed dangerous, her insanity not as far from Quibbler nonsense as one would think.
Embarrassed at being caught staring, she lowered her gaze, and she heard Bellatrix smirk to herself. Which perplexed her, just a little; she couldn't yet fathom why.
"I know. Befriend the Potter boy."
"Very good," Narcissa spoke softly, fondly, as if they weren't planning the downfall (and eventual death, if things went according to plan) of a young boy barely into his teens. "I know you'll do wonderfully."
That had been years ago. Now, 16, and having failed at her father's grand schemes of making friends with Harry Potter, she was left to deal with school as she pleased as her father stormed and fumed in his hopeless attempts to win the favour of the Dark Lord. Her father had little regard for her; disappointed in her gender from birth, it had been his plan to disguise Dracaena as a boy under the name Draco, his idea to use a transfiguration potion (not quite polyjuice potion, that was much too common) to modify the appearance of his daughter so her facial features were sharper, more angled, decidedly more boyish, and her voice deeper. Bellatrix, of course, had called Lucius out as a half-wit immediately after hearing the idea and threatened to torture some sense into him, suggesting instead that Dracaena use all of her womanly powers to seduce Potter, which would have been much more of a tactical advantage than mere friendship, really now – though the man was as set in his ways as a gargoyle unto stone.
Narcissa had pleaded with Lucius to allow their daughter to continue as she was, though her voice carried little weight to a madman with intent.
Dracaena wondered perhaps if insanity ran in the family. If so, she decided she would like to end up like her aunt Bellatrix the most – though with, she was determined, more control over her hair.
Which was depressingly short now, styled like that of a boy. Needs must, she supposed.
She ran her fingers through it, sighing softly, and was abruptly reminded of her last Christmas spent at home.
It had been quite a dreary event, honestly, with her mother weeping quietly and excusing herself to bed before eleven pm. Lucius had spent another half an hour scribbling furiously at his desk situated in the far corner of the room, motioning aggressively to the house elf that had replaced Dobby for more parchment, another quill, useless bloody items he needed to commune with the other death eaters since the Dark Lord had returned.
His efforts were wasted, clearly, even Narcissa could see that. Yet still he persisted.
Dracaena admired his determination, though she had little love for the man.
When he retired, finally, Dracaena had stayed in the room, sitting close to the grand fireplace so she could feel the heat of the flames, knees drawn up to her chest, twisting her wand over and over in her hands. Precisely ten inches, hawthorn, and a core of unicorn hair, it felt comfortable in her palm. It wasn't eloquently carved, but studying the contours of the wood, the grains that ran through it, kept her amused.
She didn't hear the dark witch enter the room, or even make her way over to the chair she occupied, but as soon as she felt the breath on her cheek she knew who it was.
Bellatrix giggled. "For a girl without a boyfriend, you spend a lot of time playing with a wand."
Dracaena leant her head back, looking up into dark, wild eyes. "Hello, aunty Bella."
Bellatrix had frowned at that, and wound her way around the chair so she sat on the black velvet chaise lounge opposite the blonde, draping herself over it and sighing dramatically. "Dracaena. I swear, if you call me aunty one more time, I'll slip something into that transfiguration potion you take so that you break out in hideous spots."
Dracaena sniffed. "That's awfully docile of you, aunty."
Bellatrix glared at the ceiling at the dreaded word, her pale fingers twitching. "I'm not old enough to be your aunty, sweetheart. Or... nice enough."
Dracaena cast her gaze to the dancing flames of the fire, transfixed by their motions, choosing not to reply; though she could feel Bellatrix watching her. Her fear of the woman had vanished over the years – though a little eccentric, Bellatrix had a handle on most situations in her good moods. It was her worse days you had to be wary of – Dracaena recalled an occasion when her husband Rodolphus had bothered Bellatrix in one of her darker moods. And, well, he'd come out of it bloodied and bruised worse than an overripe fruit used in a game of tennis.
"Though," Dracaena turned her head to see the woman run her tongue slowly along her teeth, her eyes calculating, "You don't seem to have any interest in men at all."
Dracaena said simply, "They don't hold much worth to me." Though... she could think of one person that did. One person, one... girl, that held her attention where others didn't.
Bellatrix's eyes glittered. "No, and I consider that a wise choice. Men are vile pigs." She threw back her head and laughed, before continuing. "However, I doubt very much that you don't like anyone."
Dracaena raised an eyebrow at her aunt. Where was the witch going with this?
"I believe I just clarified the latter statement."
Bellatrix laughed again, for longer this time. "You're so well spoken, it's as if you're much older than your years. I see too much of myself in you."
Dracaena assumed an expression much more suited to a foul-tempered teenager of her age. "It's what comes of spending years as the only child of the Malfoy family, in a house filled with books and terribly old-fashioned parents," she sighed.
Bellatrix smiled, though it was more of a smirk. Bellatrix never genuinely smiled. "I agree your parents are rather dreary."
Dracaena shifted in her seat, then frowned suddenly.
"Do you really see much of yourself in me?"
Bellatrix pouted a little. "Oh yes, you've definitely got the Black streak to you."
Dracaena mulled this over. "Not to be rude, Bellatrix... but I'm not sure I'm as like you as you think. For one-" And then she stopped, realising her next words were probably not that wise to utter to her manic aunt.
But Bellatrix was as sharp as a dagger, and her expression darkened immediately, dark eyes narrowing to slits.
"What, dear niece? What sweet words were you about to grace me with?"
Dracaena's mouth formed a little 'o' as she realised exactly what she'd done, then as Bellatrix stood, her expression thunderous, pale hands clenching and the light of the fire casting heavy shadows over prominent cheekbones to form a terrifying yet devastatingly beautiful look, the blonde found herself pressed against the back of the chair in fear.
Bellatrix took a step towards Dracaena, covering the majority of the distance even so. Evidently furious, her next words were forced through her teeth as a hiss.
"You're a selfish, spoiled little thing," Bellatrix leant down and gripped Dracaena's chin painfully tight between two fingers, forcing her head up to look at the dark witch. "You're like your father in that regard. Terribly self-absorbed."
And with a motion as fluid as water flowing over stone, Bellatrix slapped her across the cheek. Dracaena didn't quite register the action at first, though after a few seconds the pain seared through her face.
Bellatrix was watching her reaction, rage clear in her dark eyes. After a moment of observing the shock and confusion that then descended into indignation, her lips twisted into a cruel smile. "You shouldn't speak to your aunt like that."
And she looked down at Dracaena with fiercely cold eyes, ever the image of glorious insanity with her mane of tangled black hair fanned out from her pale face, lips pursed; "And just in case that pretentious little head of yours wasn't clear about things, you should know that you are, in fact, exactly like I was. Because, for one, we both know-" And she put her face directly in front of Dracaena's, "That you're more than a little obsessed with women."
There was a dark humour in her eyes as she continued. "And, as secretive as you think you are, I've seen the way you look at me."
Dracaena's heart was pounding in her chest, and it felt difficult to breathe. Her impulse was to shrink back away from Bellatrix, but her muscles were locked in place as her mind raced. She'd been so careful, tried to stop herself feeling so drawn to the deranged aunt that would kill without hesitation, the dark witch whose lifestyle was so different from the quiet, sedated world she'd been brought up in; but Bellatrix was just so alluring... She desired the older woman's company more than anything.
It wasn't a love. Of that she was sure; it was nothing like what she felt for the other girl. But at the same time she desperately wanted Bellatrix. Wanted her to touch her, to take her; to have Bellatrix strip her soul bare.
But before she could form a coherent response, Bellatrix had leant forward and was pressing her pale lips against the young girl's, kissing her with bruising force. Dracaena wasted no moment in returning the kiss with equal vigour, her heart beating so hard it was as if it was trying to break free of her chest, a small part of her telling her she should be disgusted, repelled by what she was doing, but she didn't feel anything other than her hunger for Bellatrix.
"See. Exactly the same." Bellatrix punctuated each word with an angry kiss, then pulled abruptly away, and kissed Dracaena's neck once, startling the blonde with the gentleness of the action, before sinking her teeth into her skin.
Dracaena would've cried out, but Bellatrix's hand shot up to cover her mouth and muffle her voice.
"Be quiet, you little fool," The dark witch hissed, then bit again, causing Dracaena to moan heavily into her palm. It hurt, it really really hurt, but in the best way possible, and she felt herself become shockingly wet.
She didn't recall losing her clothes, but all of a sudden she'd been stripped down to nothing but her underwear. Bellatrix dragged her nails down her bare skin and she shivered a little, dying to know what Bellatrix was going to do to her.
Bellatrix nipped her way along Dracaena's collar-bone, purring a little in appreciation of the prominent feature, then moved her mouth down to suck hard on the blonde's left nipple. The young girl squirmed in pleasure beneath her, though – surprisingly strong for her size – Bellatrix held her hips down firmly, pressing them into the chair. She gave her right nipple the same treatment, licking roughly over both before biting her way down Dracaena's flat stomach, then dragged the fabric of her underwear down with her teeth.
Feeling a little exposed, Dracaena's thighs twitched with the impulse to shut them, and Bellatrix, with her sharp eyes, noticed.
"Oh, no, sweetie. You keep those open for me," She laughed. She rubbed around the younger girl's slit a little, forcing a quiet mmph out of Dracaena, and then pushed a finger slowly inside her. Her gaze never left the blonde's face as she slid another finger inside, beginning to roughly but slowly fuck Dracaena, making her whimper into her hand each time.
Her clit burned savagely, and Dracaena couldn't help the white liquid that soaked Bellatrix's fingers as she grew more and more desperate for some contact.
Eventually Bellatrix broke off to murmur into Dracaena's ear.
"Now, I'm going to take my hand away from your mouth, okay? Do remember to be quiet, darling." True to her word, the woman removed her hand, using it to now spread Dracaena's lower lips before latching her mouth to her engorged clit; Dracaena bit into her lip to stop herself moaning too loudly, her hips bucking from the intense pleasure Bellatrix caused.
The dark witch licked in a slow circle, making Dracaena's head feel light, before sucking hard and biting every so often at the tender nub of nerves. She was relentless with her tongue and vicious with her teeth; having resumed sliding her fingers in and out of Dracaena's pussy, she drove the younger girl's poor body closer and closer to her orgasm as it shook beneath her touch.
When Dracaena came her muscles clenched violently around Bellatrix's fingers and she breathed the dark witch's name, her sight reduced to dark nothingness as all her senses were consumed with the intensity of her orgasm, and ecstasy cascaded over her like a waterfall. Bellatrix's expression was smug, evidently pleased with herself.
"How...?" Dracaena asked weakly, when she could speak.
"Oh, I devote far too much of my time to myself in bed," The woman replied – amused, it seemed.
Dracaena, still weak, stretched gingerly before looking around for her clothes; Bellatrix chuckled.
"I wouldn't worry about those... I'm not done with you yet."
Dracaena smiled at the memory, her fondness for Bellatrix only having grown since then. Bellatrix was a rough lover, but none the less skilled because of it: there had been occasions where the witch had blindfolded her, tied her up, and whipped her bloody; but Dracaena found she liked it far more than would be considered socially acceptable.
She snorted quietly at that. Sleeping with her aunt wasn't socially acceptable anyway; she may as well acknowledge that she would never be ordinary.
Speaking of the mundane, it really was time she joined the rest of her dorm and went to sleep; aided by her activities in the previous minutes, she was unconscious in moments.
A/N: Woo, and that's the end of chapter one! I hope you liked it! In case anyone's unsure, you pronounce Dracaena as "druh-kay-nuh" - it felt like the most suitable feminine version of Draco, and whilst 'Draco' is dragon in Latin, 'Dracaena' comes from the Greek Drakaina (meaning female dragon... it's also a plant.) Bet you didn't know that.
Be a darling and leave me a lovely review, hmm?