The Pieces of a Whole

by Lillielle

Disclaimer: I own nothing. For the 12 Days of Christmas Style challenge and the Connect the Characters challenge. 1-Luna/Harry, a walk in the Forbidden Forest. 2-Harry/Bellatrix, a rather...interesting moment. 3-Bellatrix/Hermione, Mistress with her pet. 4-Hermione/Harry, life's too empty to fall. 5-Harry/Ginny, no one suspects her. 6-Ginny/Bellatrix, she should have known better.

2. Throw It All Away

Pairing: Harry/Bellatrix

Warnings for teenage masturbation :p

It's ridiculous. He knows it is. More than ridiculous-it's stupid, foolish, disturbing, any negative adjective he can fling at his overworked brain. It's wrong, that's the main thing, and yet he can't push the image of her out of his head.

Bellatrix Lestrange. The Dark Lord's lieutenant, the murderer of his godfather, one of the most deranged and evil women it has ever been his misfortune to dream of...and all he can think is what she'd look like in only her knickers.

He presses his head against the window, the cold leeching away the flushed sweatiness of his face as he takes a deep breath and looks down on the snow-bleached grounds. It is winter holidays and for the moment, he is the only one in the dormitory.

He also has a rather...pressing problem, he thinks and looks awkwardly down at the bulge in his trousers. He glimpsed a picture of Bellatrix in the Daily Prophet earlier (the usual tripe of "have you seen this woman?"), and now he can't stop thinking of what it would be like if she kissed him, mashing his lips back against his teeth as she crooned what a naughty boy he was, as she ripped off his clothes and discarded her own. What it would feel like to be inside her, to caress her, to pinch and bite her and intertwine pain with pleasure (her pain, of course, and his pleasure-despite his fantasies, Harry is not really a masochist). The feel of her breasts against his chest, her wild, dark eyes burning into his as she shrieks his name to the stars above, no longer laughing and calling him a little boy, but accepting that he is more, he will always be more, he will make her his...

With a groan and ragged breath, Harry spills himself into his trousers, palming himself through the fabric and pulling his hand away like it's been scalded. He mutters a hasty cleaning charm, his cheeks burning hectic red once more. He can't have just done that, he assures himself, and rushes downstairs to find someone else, anyone else.

Anything to destroy the realisation that if he had the chance, he'd throw it all away for one night spent with Bellatrix.