A sequel will be up at some point.

TWISTED LOVE

Fascination.

Every fibre in his being told him that it was wrong. Wrong to be so fascinated by HER. No matter how many times he reprimanded himself for even thinking about her, Neville would simply turn his head to stare out of the window, unable to rid himself of the thoughts that plagued him.

What was she doing right at that moment? How was she faring? He knew where she was. Rotting in Azkaban prison due to her crimes against… his parents. Though many would consider him 'stupid', Neville could be sneaky whenever the situation called for it.

He had been six years old and playing in the living room when he had heard the sound of weeping. Curiosity flaring up, he had skidded into the kitchen, gawping as his shaking grandmother suddenly shoved a book into one of the cupboards. Neville had barely listened to her tirade at him, mind focussing on the book and the best opportunity to search through it.

The next night had been perfect. Hunched over the scrapbook at the kitchen table, reading by candlelight, Neville had unravelled the mystery of his parent's descent into madness and who the exact perpetrators were. Throughout his six years, Neville had only seen his parents a few times, his grandmother deeming that too many visits 'would traumatise him greatly at such a young age.'

Out of the four individuals responsible, one had cinched his interest. Bellatrix Lestrange. The name alone, entranced him and Neville vowed to learn more about her.

Of course, he hated her.

How could he not? What she had done to his parents… that was the work of a sick, twisted mind. And in his eyes, she deserved no mercy from anyone. A little thrill ran down his spine from time to time whenever he thought about the Dementors draining away her happiness. It was what she deserved…

Neville clenched his fists, ignoring the raging whispers that surfaced as Harry moved up to the High Table. He was aware of Seamus hissing in his ear, something to do with Harry cheating and the Tri Wizard Tournament. Neville did not give any indication whatsoever that he was interested. Once again, she was on his mind.

Thirteen years locked up in Azkaban. He wondered what she looked like, if she was still attractive. He cursed under his breath. How could he view her as 'attractive?!' Bellatrix Lestrange was messed up in the head, just like he was when he pondered about her.

Neville sighed, hoping that his fascination with her would soon end.

Lust.

He had been feeling it for a while. In the middle of puberty and very hormonal, Neville had initiated his first wanking session, in his bed, surrounded by his sleeping dorm mates. The experience had been exhilarating, the sticky substance on the sheets reminding him of the fantasy that had accompanied it so vividly.

The fantasy of HER.

Now fifteen and finally growing into his own skin, Neville accepted that he had been wrong. The fascination hadn't ended… It had morphed.

A few weeks into the brand new year and Neville felt hopeless and not for the first time. His lust for the woman who had tortured his parents had grown, every day he pined for her. Pined for her soft lips, her heaving breasts. He wanted her to hold him, to console him when he was down. To soothe him by saying that he wouldprove to the wizarding world one day that he was worthy enough.

One day, his lust sent him nearly overboard. Having finished a torturous hour of Potions that consisted of Snape berating him over his potion being potentially life threatening, Neville raced up to his dormitory, grinning when he observed that it was empty.

He flung his books aside, shutting the door behind him. Neville struggled to lock and silence the door with his wand whilst shucking his robe and shoes off. When he was sure that the door would not be accessible and that no one would be able to hear within, Neville flopped onto his bed, hands fumbling with his belt buckle.

He had been unable to concentrate in his lessons thus garnering numerous house point deductions, but Neville, for once, did not give a damn. The need to relieve himself had been plaguing his mind all morning, and as he released over his sheets, Neville flung his head back and let loose a hoarse cry:

"BELLA!"

He slumped back, panting, heart racing. After many frustrating flicks of his wand, the charms on the door were removed. Neville lay on his bed, underwear and trousers around his ankles, turmoil sparking in his mind.

'This isn't right! Oh, I'm going to have to tell someone! But who?!'

He pondered about it all evening and for the majority of the night. He decided that it would be best to inform someone he considered a friend, someone who would not judge him for it.

'At the meeting tomorrow, I'll tell Hermione. She'll keep it secret!'

However, doubt seeped into his mind. He knew what a stickler for the rules Hermione was, so vowed to handle this… confession carefully.

During the next session with the other DA members, Neville proceeded to whittle his fingernails down drastically. Instead of attempting to produce a Patronus, his gaze was fixed solely onto Hermione and remained there until the conclusion of the meeting.

As he pocketed his wand with a sigh, Neville scurried over to Hermione, thinking:

'Why couldn't I be infatuated with someone like Hermione?! But no, I have to be in love with Bellatrix Lestrange!"

He squeaked at this, disbelief flashing across his features. Did he really love that monster?! Neville jerked as Hermione tapped his arm.

"Neville? Are you okay?"

He scanned the room. Empty save for him and her. Neville locked his eyes with Hermione's inquisitive ones, inhaled a deep breath and promptly blurted out:

"I think I'm falling for Bellatrix Lestrange."

He winced as Hermione's eyes and mouth widened, averting his gaze to his feet. Several seconds melted by and there was no response. Begrudgingly, Neville raised his head, instantly regretting that action. Hermione was burning her gaze into his, hands balled by her sides.

He backed away as she ranted:

"How could you?! Fall in love with the woman who tortured your parents?!"

"I-I-I don't know w-why, I-"

Yet Hermione was so incensed at Neville for being so utterly foolish that she didn't give him a chance to finish off.

"I read the reports about what they did! Neville… I'm failing to understand how you could be infatuated with someone who deprived you of your parents! How do you think they would feel?! Did you give any thought into them?!"

Neville whimpered, sputtering out: "I-I-I can't explain the r-reason why. S-She just f-fascinates me. Oh Hermione, I don't know w-what to do!"

"Tell Professor McGonagall."

Neville looked aghast. "W-What? I can't do that!"

"Why not? Neville, you need help."

"Look, I know this is messed up, b-but I was wondering if you c-could keep it a s-secret?"

Smiling uneasily at her stern expression, he mumbled: "I just h-had to tell someone! P-Please, Hermione?"

Hermione's expression wavered, then eventually collapsed. Sighing, she muttered: "Fine, I'll keep it quiet, but Neville?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't go and visit her in Azkaban. It wouldn't end well."

Obsession.

Two months after his confession to Hermione, and Neville couldn't deny anymore to either himself or Hermione that the feelings had gone. In fact, they had gotten stronger. So when he sat himself down at the Gryffindor table, eyes fixating on the newspaper laid out before him, what struck his face was not an expression of horror.

But a smile.

Staring back at him, displayed across the front page, was a photo of Azkaban prison, a side of it blown wide. He opened the paper, wincing as he gained a paper cut.

'Why do I always have to be so clumsy?'

Stemming the bleed with a napkin, Neville landed on the page he had been looking for, his heart tugging as he saw the person of his desires. It was the official photograph of her imprisoned in Azkaban, grimy hands tightly clenching the board depicting her number. Even though she was screaming and gaunt and looked as if she had been through hell, he viewed her as a beauty. A thorn in his side that would somehow blossom into a rose.

Neville imagined her lips on his own bitten ones, her hands caressing his backside. He stifled a moan as his erection swelled, hastily turning the page to avoid any questions. Later on as he made his way to Charms, Neville came across Hermione who simply shook her head at him before striding away.

The visit to St Mungos was tense. Neville sat on one of the beds, holding his mother's hand gently. He twitched when she lightly squeezed it, raising his gaze to settle onto her blank face. Her eyes were dull, but Neville could imagine the rage, the fury that would be held in those grey eyes if she ever found out the truth. That he was obsessed with Bellatrix Lestrange. And not in a good way.

This was one instance where Neville was thankful that his parents were not of sane mind, but he instantly regretted such a thought. He should be vengeful! Not in love with the woman who had destroyed his family! And who was married! Neville gulped. He needed to find Bellatrix in the flesh, and fast.

18th June. The day he finally met HER. When she emerged from out of the shadows, cackling, his heart nearly stopped. To him, the cackling sounded like tinkling laughter and he wanted to hear more. The logical part of his mind clashed with the part that craved Bellatrix as he tried to will his rapidly swelling dick down. He was enraptured by her physical appearance. Though the time spent in Azkaban had ruined some of the perfections, he was unable to tear his eyes away from the beautiful creature before him.

He was so gobsmacked by her that he didn't register her talking to him until a sharp nudge in the ribs provided by Ron resulted in him jolting back to reality. Playing up to the role that was expected of him, Neville roared at Bellatrix, breaking out into a sprint after her. Oh, how he admired the way she was playing him. Her own little game just for him. He cursed at her as she raced into the lift, following after her.

Neville was shocked that she had allowed herself to be cornered so easily, but understood why when she turned round to face him, back against the far wall of the lift. A dazzling smile lingered on her lips, wand now tucked into her robes. She could sense that the boy wasn't going to kill her, at that moment his wand was lowering and her smile broadened when she guessed what he wanted.

Shutting her eyes to half lids, she purred lustfully: "Want to play, little boy?"

Neville panted, slowly sliding his wand into his trouser pockets. This was it. His deciding moment. Stay loyal to his parents, the rest of his family, his friends, the DA or accept the invitation and condemn himself for ever? If he did accept and word broke loose, he would never be able to look his parents in the eyes again without feeling immense guilt. However right at that moment, Neville wanted one thing. Bella.

Moving forwards into the lift, one hand reaching out to press the button, he murmured:

"Yes..."

The lift doors hissed shut.