James knew it was wrong. He knew it was sick, and that if anyone found out about it, they would condemn him for it.
She knew, too. She knew that was wrong and a bad idea. But that made it all the more fun.
That's the trouble with people. Something, that might not have been pleasurable at all, instantly becomes attractive to do when one realizes they aren't supposed to do it. That it would defy spoken or unspoken rules. That It would make others stare and judge. That if anyone found out about it, there would be certain hell to pay
But James was not the sort to be put off by the boundaries of rules. And Bellatrix was not one to give a care to social standards.
But still, the fact remained that he was a blood-traitor, and she was an aspiring death eater. They were fighting for the opposite sides in a war. There were reasons that these rules and social standards applied.
So why did they do it?
In the beginning it was Bella's idea. She approached him, seduced him, shagged him, because he was hot, there was talk he was an animal in bed, and it sounded fun to break the rules just this once… How was she to know she would like it so much?
And James? He didn't see it coming. He had his focus on the little redheaded girl; on quidditch; on being cool; and most importantly, thinking up mischief with his mates. When she had ambushed him during an evening stroll in the corridor, he hadn't been thinking clearly, obviously. It wasn't until it was over that he had realized what he had done—who he had done.
They had both departed that first time, rather wordlessly. Bella too astonished at how accurate people's rumor's had been (they might have even underrated him). And James, crinkled with disturbance about sleeping with a Slytherin, and most of all, how much he had liked it. Because Bellatrix had a reputation too. He just never expected it to be true.
James was fine with pretending like it had never happened: never speaking of it, nor ever acknowledging it to himself. But then she approached him again, and he just couldn't say no.
Soon they were meeting on a regular basis. Sometimes not even to find a broom cupboard but to actually talk. Have conversations. They actually had more in common than they realized.
"How much do you get from your relatives at Christmas?"
"How much do you get?"
"You first…"
"… a hundred or so…"
"I get 50 from my parents, 75 from my grandad, 20 from my Aunt and Uncle, 60 from my godfather, usually."
James snorted. "I get 250 from my parents, alone. My grandad gives me like 100. That and a billion presents that I don't need."
"The biggest present I probably got was a stallion when I was eight."
"I got a hippogriff when I was five," James said, in a bored voice, looking out at the lake casually. "Got a flying carpet when I was nine. I got an orangutan when I was eleven. But only for about five seconds."
Bella rolled her eyes. "See, I'm a spoiled rich kid, but you are a filthy king."
"Yes… Yes I am." He agreed, brightly.
Rolling her eyes once more, she looked out at the lake and reached for his hand. He squeezed hers when she found it, and they both smiled slightly to themselves.
"I wanted a dragon when I was twelve, and it was the surprise of my life when my mum flatly said no," James mentioned after a few minutes, looking at her.
"Oh, well then I take my statement back," She said sarcastically. James laughed. "Merlin, you are so hot," She growled, and jumped at him suddenly.
"Merlin!" he exclaimed, falling over with her on top of him, kissing his neck, and holding his arms down. "Why do you always notice that at random times and proceed to attack me?"
"I'm an animal, I have my rights," She replied, tearing through his robes with her nails.
"Watch it! I need those."
"Well, if you'd fucking help then I wouldn't have to." She growled, dangerously.
"We're in the middle of the grounds," James said, trying to push her off, but she had already successfully torn through his robes to his fit chest. "Someone will see us."
"Just…" She grabbed her wand from her pocket and pointed it at the sun. "There. A reflective charm. It'll blind anyone who looks. Happy?" she said, running her hands down his chest, and biting at his neck again.
"Fine," he sighed, knowing there was no way to stop her once she got going. She had his arms pinned again so he was stuck just lying there while she ravished him with her tongue and hands.
"So fit. So hot. So sexy. How did you get this way?" She murmured, nibbling at his stubble along his chiseled chin.
"Luck," he said, looking at the sky, and breathing in her fiery scent, with a smile.
"I can't stand it!" She suddenly screamed, and James was shocked as she slapped him across his face. "You're so arrogant, James Potter. So arrogant and sexy."
"I—"
"Shut up." She pressed her lips to his and he was slightly scared. She was always so unpredictable.
The rest of his robes were torn off, and she clambered on top of him, taking her robes off too and pressing up against his body, biting and scratching at his face, yanking at his hair in longing.
Afterwards, James had to say that he had never felt so sore post sex before. He had at least six hickeys on his neck, and he had claw marks from Bella's fingernails up and down his chest. And the right side of his face was red from being slapped for reasons, he still did not understand.
James fooled himself for about a week that he liked this. That he liked having nightly meet ups with Bella and being the victim of brutalized sex. He told himself it was fun. He even told himself that she wasn't that bad… In the evil kind of way.
And Bella? She loved it. She didn't have to fool herself with anything. James was hers. He was fit. His ass was perfect. He had a genuine six pack on his abdomen. He had that lazy kind of muscle around his arms, and a face that just needed a good smack every now and then. That arrogant smirk of his, and that careless stubble. Those twinkling eyes full of mischief. They drove her crazy. She wanted to make him submit. And she did, and he did. It was so satisfying. The talks were vaguely interesting, and only made her want to foil his good heart more. It became clearer every time she talked to him that he was a good guy. It was disgusting, but it made her want to dirty him up all the more.
"What do you want to do after Hogwarts?" he asked, as they sat at their spot by the lake one Wednesday evening.
"Kill muggles," She had replied truthfully, but perhaps more sarcastically than she had meant to, as he snorted. "What about you?" She asked.
"I… want to join the Order of the Phoenix actually. Stop You-Know-Who."
Bella looked at him with a frown. "Muggles are filth."
"No, they aren't." he said, simply. "They are human beings, just like us."
"You are so… simple minded." She purred. "It's adorable…"
"This is serious. Your view on muggles is just wrong!"
In fact, Bella loved talking politics with him. It made him upset, screwing up his arrogant features. And just when he seemed about to up and leave, she'd throw her body at him and he'd have nowhere to go.
James began to notice the pattern, however. Noticing how they'd be talking about classes or their families, when she'd suddenly make a twist to talking about Voldemort, and how amazing Death Eaters were; How muggles deserved to be rounded up and beheaded. He noticed how her eyes glinted as he argued angrily against her; How her lip curled as she added a few more insults in the direction of mudbloods… He noticed, shamefully, how the moment he was about ready to storm off, she'd start snogging him, and his lust made him ignore his principles. He hated it… He always felt awful afterwards.
James knew he had to end this. Immediately. But when he told her he couldn't see her anymore, she had laughed. She had called him cute. He tried to make her understand that he was serious, but she refused to comply.
"We are not over, until I say so." She had said, so darkly that it made him want to hide under a rock.
But he was a Gryffindor, damn it. He had to show her he would not be intimidated. "Well, you better say so then, because I'm done."
And he had tried to walk away right then and there. But that was his second mistake: turning his back on a witch who wasn't afraid of the Dark Arts, who practiced the Dark Arts, and who lived for the Dark Arts. His first mistake, of course, had been getting involved with a witch like that to begin with.
There was no time for James to realize this, however, as he felt a spell hit him in the center of his back. He stumbled forward and then straightened his shoulders as an amazing tingling sensation fluttered from his spine all the way down to his toes, and up to the tips of his raven hair that stuck up in the back. There was no witch standing behind him, wand pointed directly at him. Hell, there wasn't even a floor for a witch of any kind to stand on. He was pretty sure he was floating. A voice spoke—a smooth, tender voice that would have normally sent shivers through him.
"Kiss me." Bella ordered, her wand lowering now that she was sure the illegal curse was in full, devoted measure.
James turned around, his hazel eyes glazed. He felt light and incessantly happy. But as he stepped towards Bella, a testy voice in the back of his head, was whispering to him. It was the same voice he gets while brewing a potion in class, trying to hint to him that he had forgotten to add a certain ingredient.
The voice was more upfront, this time; telling him exactly what he had forgotten. This is Bellatrix Black. You do not want to kiss her.
Oh, but he did. There was no reminder that he was on the light side, and she was on the dark side; No nagging at him that his best friend would lose his head if he were to find out; and the consistent freckle of guilt seemed to have been washed away.
You must not kiss her, the voice hissed. But it didn't seem to have much else to say, or a basis on which to stand on. He smiled lazily, as he closed the gap between himself and the witch with the crazy mane of curly dark hair.
"Kiss me."
Sure, why not?