I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just playing with JKR's universe.
Some time ago I wrote a similar short story in my collection of female Harry Potter stories, but while this is similar it is different.
Enjoy.
Black Widow.
"Oooh, ooh, oh, yes!" Rose moaned, closing her eyelids as the pleasure rippled throughout her body, and she opened her eyes and smiled as the massive black man fucked her harder, her long legs spread wide and wrapped weakly around his waist to keep him inside her. The stud grunted, and he fondled her massive tits, making her moan in pleasure.
Rose's body, already super sensitive after being rubbed raw by the relentless fucking from the sex machine on top of her, felt like it was being electrocuted now when the stud fondled her tits. It made her arch her back and scream for more.
The scream startled the black man for a moment but he grinned down at the girl and went faster than ever. He let out a feral growl as he went faster. He loved seeing this red-headed slut moaning and writhing underneath him, loved seeing how her sweat streaked dark red hair was like a halo surrounding her head, and he loved the way she worked with him.
"Urgh, you are such a whore!" he growled breathlessly as he continued to fuck the girl, her screams and her panted moans were like music to his ears. He didn't know his name, but that didn't matter to either of them. He had been looking for a great time at a club, looking for any girl to fuck. He had found her in this gorgeous slut with long red hair which hung like a glorious curtain around her head, and her tits were amazing and she was a phenomenal lay. She was also a great cocksucker, but she was a cumslut. There were trails of cum all over her face where he had cream-pied her earlier. For hours he had fucked her, but she had never once stopped. She was like a fucking Duracell bunny, for fuck sake.
He had no idea what she wanted, and he didn't care.
Meanwhile Rose smirked at the compliment. How many times had someone called her that? Too many. She had celebrated her thirteenth birthday by magically changing her appearance to appear older, and heading to a club in Little Whinging where she found someone willing to take her virginity, and after that, she had begun fucking everyone willing enough to do it.
It was all part of her master plan, of course - but it was still enjoyable.
Rose's dark red painted lips puffed themselves into a pout shaped like an o while her shiny red nails hooked into the black man's shiny skin. "Y-yes," she panted, "I am a whore! I love being a whore. Much more fun!"
"I bet it is, slut!" he panted, growling in a feral manner as he rammed his way into the girl's hot, tight cunt. Not once did he take his eyes off of the girl's face. None of the makeup was running from the girl's face, it was still painted like it had been before, while her wild dark red hair formed a messy sweaty curtain on the pillow as he fucked her.
"Fuck me!" the girl yelled while her legs shook as he pounded her, picking up speed as he fucked her.
And then something strange happened. The girl was suddenly on top of him, bouncing up and down on his shaft while he watched as her large tits bounced with each hip-slapping thrust. After the pair of them had just reached their climax, Rose summoned her wand into her hand and pointed it at the surprised black man, who was looking at the hot slut who had suddenly transformed right in front of his eyes and was now pointing a stick at her.
"You were a great lay. All good things," she said, "Avada Kedavra!"
The killing curse struck the man straight in the heart at point-blank range before he even had time to move. The bright green glow of the curse made Rose close her eyes as it struck her brief lover momentarily but when she opened her eyes she saw the man's dead and still body, his eyes glassy in death. Rose smirked down at the corpse, jabbing her wand in the muscle of the man's torso. Nothing happened, but then she was not thinking about using any kind of spell.
Rose slowly got off of the man, realising that his cock was still jammed up inside her tight cunt. She sighed and pulled herself upwards, moaning as the cock left her pussy with a wet sound, and she leapt off of the bed. It took a moment before she was able to walk right again, her limbs felt like jelly and it took her a few moments of pacing up and down the room to will her limbs back to full working use. Rose walked out of the bedroom, letting the air of the flat touch her still sweaty skin, and she felt her ass and hips and the swaying of her breasts as she walked towards the kitchen. Flicking her wand at the fridge to open it up so then she didn't leave any fingerprints, Rose looked inside the fridge carefully.
Unlike her fridge which was stocked with the bare essentials, this fridge was a cross between someone who loved to keep fit and also someone who wasn't afraid of eating food that he liked.
There was a half-eaten cake in there, and Rose took it out and summoned a fork to appear in her hand. She poured herself some water and she ate and drank, shovelling the cake into her mouth. It was a store-bought food, so it was more processed than the things she usually ate, but that was no biggie; her magic was able to burn through the nasty bits and pieces in food and drink, keeping her looking healthy and trim always. But she was rejoicing in the sweetness of the cake, knowing in her stomach there would be a chemical cauldron breaking the food down, including those sugars and giving her a substantial pick-me-up along the way.
Once she was finished with her cake, she licked her fork clean, using the skills she had learnt when sucking cock to lick it as clean as she could get it while she looked around the flat. She still had work to do.
After banishing the waste she had left behind into the bin, Rose flicked her wand around the kitchen to remove any evidence of her presence from the room before she headed back into the bedroom where the body lay. She looked down at it almost lovingly, with an air of coldness in the same way that a lover would a discarded toy.
Granted, he had annoyed her at first when he had entered her slowly as if to enjoy the moment of fucking her pussy, but once he had gotten started it was like he could not stop, and she loved men like that. In a way it had been tragic to kill him, they could have made it a thing, but one of her rules said never to get attached to anybody. In any case, she had never been good with just fucking the one man, it had never been right with her, and truthfully being with one man had never been right with her.
The man had been a great lay, there was no doubt about that in Rose's mind but still, she had to make a living. The fact she seduced men and slept with them, occasionally going on dates with a lucky few of them who had crossed her path in the past for a bit for variety away from her usual modus operandi before she either wiped their memories of the experiences they'd had together so they wouldn't remember her, or she killed them because she had felt like it, either because they had pushed her buttons the wrong way or they had tried to suggest she marry them. Whenever Rose dated someone the relationship did not last long. It was a policy that could be crippling, especially since when she had gone out on dates they had gone on the usual dating rituals - restaurant dinners, movies, and sex.
As she stared at the man's body, her mind absently replaying how he had fucked her so thoroughly, Rose felt a familiar tightening in her midsection and her pussy began to tingle.
Rose lifted her wand and she cast a spell at the man's cock. Immediately the penis lifted and it became erect at once as the spell attracted as much blood in the corpse to make the penis erect. She licked her lips at the size of the cock as it became fully erect, not caring that it belonged to a dead man and there was just something inherently wrong about fucking someone who was a corpse. Rose smirked and flicked her hair back as she clambered onto the bed and started to ride the black man's erect cock. As she fucked the dead man, Rose knew if anyone saw the corpse she was riding they would think she was sick in the head, and she was.
Rose loved sex. She didn't care if her 'victim' were alive or dead, although many would think it was gross. Once she was finished, Rose hopped off of the body, her juices soaking the inside of her creamy thighs before she flicked her wand and removed all evidence of her presence.
Rose picked up her clothes and she began to put them on in front of the mirror after she had cleaned her body with the wand. Rose slipped on her bra and panties, moaning a little as the soft silk rubbed her pussy before she slid on her dress. The leopard print dress clung onto Rose's voluptuous frame and made her large breasts looking bigger.
She slid on her high heeled shoes and admired herself in the mirror. Fuck, I am so hot! she giggled to herself, primping her long red hair; she thanked her lucky stars she didn't share the same shade of hair with the Weasley family - the thought alone made her shudder, even if fucking Fred and George had been some of the best moments she'd ever had - but the rest of the family had repelled her, although the twins had occasionally pushed her to her limits.
Rose took a moment to examine her hot body, thanking her lucky stars she had inherited her mother's beauty. Standing at five foot eight inches in height, Rose had an amazing hourglass figure. Her long, sexy legs were smooth to the touch, and when she was wearing one of her dresses like the leopard print dress clinging to her form like a second skin and wearing high heeled pumps, her legs seemed to travel downwards for miles. They were fatty, toned, and gorgeous to look at. Rose loved her sexy body, she loved her legs and she loved her bubble butt, well she should, given how long it had taken for her to acquire a massive pair of buttocks to weaken the knees of every straight guy. She had a sexy figure, which complimented her large boobs. Her heart-shaped face held a pair of plump, pouty lips, a small and dainty nose and large green eyes.
Rose was a witch. She was a pornstar and she was also a prostitute and a stripper. She was also a black widow; a serial killer who seduced men, slept with them for a bit, and then she stole what they had. And she was about to get to work.
Aunt Petunia was sneering down at her - Rose hoped she wasn't going to get beaten; she had mustered up enough courage to come out and outright ask her aunt about her parents, but the Dursleys were so touchy the little girl was just amazed they tolerated her enough to let her move around.
"You want to know about your mother, do you?" Petunia asked rhetorically (Rose didn't know at the time why the older woman saying that, though in a few years time she would find out). The older woman leaned forward, spitting. "Your mother, Girl, was a whore! She married a drunk, and she got herself killed in a car crash! That's all you need to know! Don't ask questions again!"
Don't ask questions. How many times had she heard that? Rose had not said a word, knowing her aunt was looking for an excuse to tell Uncle Vernon she was misbehaving. She knew only one punishment would come out from that. A beating.
When she was old enough and her knowledge of the English language had grown thanks to reading up on Dudley's homework which he left lying about carelessly because he absolutely hated learning, Rose immediately went to the school library and looked for a dictionary. She had waited for a good few years to do this.
The library was perhaps the safest place in the school for her during breaks. The kindly librarian allowed her access especially since she knew Rose loved reading and just wanted to get away from her dreadful cousin. The librarian was one of the few people in the school who could tell not everything was right at Number 4, more than a few of them had lost their jobs and everyone had been told the suspected abuse was nothing more than a "misunderstanding," or something like that.
The librarian and a few teachers did not believe that, but they were powerless to do anything to help Rose.
Rose was thankful she had the library. None of Dudley's idiot friends came in here except in classes, and they wouldn't think to look in a place full of books to find her. In short, it was the perfect place for her to stay during breaks when she wanted nothing more than to escape her cousin. Better still Rose was surrounded by books, and if there was one thing she liked the most it was reading. The librarian had helped her with her reading skills, and she had picked up a great deal from the woman, although she had kept in the back of her mind everything Petunia had said to describe her parents.
It could wait.
In any case, the library offered her a tremendous amount of freedom.
From the library, she had learnt her times' tables. She had found a number of novels and short story omnibuses. She had read HG Well's The Invisible Man, War of the Worlds, The Island of Dr Moreau, and The Time Machine. She had also read Jules Verne's Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, and she had read The Secret Garden, and A Little Princess (that had been one of her favourite books, and more than once she had dreamt and prayed someone was out there, looking for her, to take her away from the Dursleys- or better still, a police officer with a few brain cells in their head would work out the misunderstandings were no misunderstandings after all, and put her into care where she wouldn't be whipped or beaten for the smallest infraction; but Rose was rapidly becoming a pragmatist instead of an optimist, she knew the chances of a dream happening were nil, so she had pushed it aside), among other things.
Rose had waited for a while before she decided her knowledge and vocabulary had grown to the point where she could look up the words Petunia had used to describe her parents.
She wanted to look up the words Aunt Petunia had used to describe her parents. Rose honestly had no idea if the Dursleys fully expected her to know what the words "whore" and "drunk" meant, but she didn't ask any of the teachers. The Dursley's credo of "don't ask questions" which seemed to be the foundation of their family's philosophy which meant none of the Dursleys was really interested in picking up a book and actually read it, though why that was Rose did not know, but she enjoyed reading though she knew better than to take anything back with her to the house; Vernon would tear the book up in a heartbeat.
As she found a dictionary which was easy for her to take off the shelf, Rose went to her own corner of the library. She had made this place her little sanctum. The Dursleys did not like learning anything, it seemed, but Rose was sharp and intelligent enough to observe that although she had received good marks in school, they had punished her for it.
At first, she had assumed it was because of Dudley's own grades, which weren't anything to boast about - her cousin hated learning with a passion although he could do basic spelling and reading. And yet her aunt and uncle had forced her to do some of Dudley's own work because his own grades were appalling so then he would have high marks. But the Dursleys punished her even if she had poor grades - it was crazy, but after she had ready one of Sherlock Holmes' short stories, she had begun to deduce that the Dursleys were deliberately trying to stop her learning in general. Rose had needed to dumb herself down although she knew she could do much much more.
Pushing aside the annoyance she felt that the Dursleys wanted to turn her into a nothing and that it had something to do with her parents, Rose flicked through the dictionary, feeling nothing but loathing for her parents for not doing the right thing, and put her into a foster home if they couldn't make the effort.
She looked up the word "Drunk" first, patiently flicking through the pages before she found the definition.
"drunk - adj: Intoxicated with alcoholic liquor to the point of impairment of physical and mental faculties."
Rose frowned at the definition thoughtfully. She didn't particularly like the definition she had just read, and she couldn't help but feel pleased that although she had no actual evidence to prove that the Dursleys were right about her parents since she knew nothing about their lives that if they were dead, the definition of drunk did not fill her with pleasure, and she rubbed her chin in thought before she flicked through the dictionary again and looked up the word intoxication.
The definition there didn't fill her with anything that filled her with hope, either. She moved onto the word "whore."
The definition for whore did not fill her with any delight either, and it made her wonder just how her parents had gotten together if the Dursleys description was accurate.
"Whore - n. A prostitute.
n. A person considered sexually promiscuous.
n. A person considered as having compromised principles for personal gain.
Rose frowned a little bit, and then she flicked through the pages while looking for the definition for prostitute (she had come across the name before in a few of the detective stories she had picked up on - Frost at Christmas was the first one she had encountered, but she had been reading a couple of books at the same time in order to improve her repertoire of language and literacy to fully take it in; she knew that Tracy Uphill's mother had been one, but the details were not clear to her since the book didn't go into too much depth.
At last, she found the definition she was looking for.
"Prostitute - n. A person who engages in Prostitution. (Rose sighed, but she didn't need to look for the definition, of which she was grateful. But for now, she focused on the definition). n. A person considered of having compromised principles for personal gain. transitive verb. To offer (oneself or another) for sexual activity in exchange for money.
Rose frowned. In exchange for money…, she thought to herself, but she kept the thought in mind as she studied the definition of prostitution.
"Prostitution," she read, "n. The Practice of engaging in sex acts in exchange for money (that didn't sound so bad to Rose, who had never had any money in her entire life, but she pushed that thought aside as she read on). n. The criminal offence of engaging in or offering to engage in sex in exchange for money."
Rose read a few more definitions before she put the dictionary to one side and thought to herself. Prostitution did not sound so bad, now she had come to think about it. She closed her eyes in a manner Sherlock Holmes was often depicted as and thought. "One, the Dursleys seem determined to stop me learning too much about learning in general. They absolutely detest books, and they punish me if I do well or do bad whenever I get my grades, although the higher ones result in more nastier punishments. The ones that show I'm not doing well, they punish anyway because they can," Rose thought to herself, "Two - I have often heard them discuss what's going to happen to me later on when they have assumed I've gone to sleep in that cupboard. I know they plan on chucking me out of the house when I reach a certain age, hoping that I will have NOTHING to my name; no money, no future, no prospects. Nothing. Three - Petunia and Vernon hate my parents, and they have passed it onto me, which means they want me to fail. They want me to be chucked out with nothing."
Rose sighed and shook her head slowly as she considered that. Rose had no intention of being thrown out without any warning, though at this point she didn't care if she frustrated the Dursleys enough to push them into throwing her out on the streets. She may struggle to survive, but Rose knew that if she could survive the hell she went through every day in that house in that boring street, she could find a way to survive and to grow as a person. That was her contingency plan.
But the idea of being forced out into the streets without any warning frightened her. Rose had no intention of letting it happen, and she had no desire to be thrown out without a plan already in place. She would plan, she would prepare. She would grow stronger, and as she vowed to herself that she would find a way to survive, she realised that money was a problem.
It always was. How many times had the Dursleys claimed she was a waste of cash when in fact she was not? Rose was not stupid - she didn't eat as much as Dudley, she didn't have any decent clothes and she didn't binge shop. But she would need money in order to get out of the house, get away from the Dursleys and the rest of the people in Little Whinging. Hopefully, she would travel to somewhere, maybe London. Big city, loads of options and opportunities. Maybe she would travel down to the coast. A place like Hastings or Brighton or Kent, close to the sea, far from the boring part of the world she lived in.
Rose realised that becoming a prostitute did not sound bad. She didn't care about emulating her mother, the woman was dead and Rose had no idea if the bitch had left any friends. Why should it matter to her? Rose lived in the here and now. The past meant nothing. Yes, Rose decided to herself, I will become a prostitute. It might be the only way I can survive.
With her high heels clicking away in the apartment, Rose scanned every inch. Idly she flicked her wand and sent a few items here and there back to her own flat. She sent a number of DVDs and CDs back to her own flat, where she would sort through them and sell them off later for a profit after she put them in the collection she had already.
She found an office area, studied it closely for a moment before she flicked her wand at the drawers to open them without leaving any fingerprints. She summoned every pound note, every coin, everything and sent them off before she logged onto the computer.
Rose was grateful being left on her own while old Mrs Figg was off doing God knew what in the kitchen, leaving her behind with album after album of cats she had owned over what seemed to be her entire, boring and mundane life as a mad old crone. Sometimes she wondered if the old hag was deliberately trying to find ways to put her off cats in much the same way the Dursleys were determined in making her life worthless in the long term. While she liked the animal, she did not want to spend the rest of her life continually looking at one photo of a particular cat and having Mrs Figg ponder over the moggy's name. She would give one name for the bloody animal, and then two minutes later flick the pages back, and bring up another name, and on and on it went until Rose wanted to throw herself in front of a car.
Everyone on the street knew Mrs Figg was wrong in the head, she wasn't the type of person the Dursleys would usually interact with, but Rose just did not grasp how on Earth the woman had found a way of persuading the Dursleys into giving her babysitting duties. While Rose was grateful towards the woman for that because she wasn't abusive like Vernon, and not shrill like Petunia, or petty like Dudley, the girl could not shake the feeling that Mrs Figg did not like her for some reason.
Not one little bit. Rose had no idea just what it was she had done to bring out such feelings of dislike from Mrs Figg, but she could see the dislike clearly. It was more subtle than what the Dursleys forced her to undergo on a day by day basis, but it was there. Rose's study of psychology thanks to the school library books had given her a great deal of insight into what made people tick, and she knew that it was more than dislike that was present every single time Rose and Mrs Figg looked at her.
It was envy.
What Mrs Figg had to envy her over Rose found she neither knew nor cared. She had no idea if it was her looks; more than once she had caught sight of Petunia's looks of disgust whenever the stupid woman thought she wasn't looking, and mouthing off "so much like her mother" whenever she thought Rose wasn't listening. More than once, worrying enough, Vernon had stopped his wife from doing anything about it. More than once, Rose had been terrified of her aunt whenever Petunia had mouthed off about "taking away Lily's beauty," though Rose had at first wondered who this Lily was before it occurred to her than Lily was her mother's first name.
Vernon stopping his wife from going that far was a surprise, but it made her more worried around the man. She could see his piggy eyes looking at her, following her, and more than once he had touched her. But was Mrs Figg envious for the same reason? Rose had no idea - she had long since stopped caring about what the people around her thought. She could take Mrs Figg's envy if she could deal with the stupidity of the Dursleys and the rest of the people in the street.
Rose had begun taking more pride in her appearance, though she could only do so much.
She was currently reading a newspaper, hoping to learn more about what was happening out there in the world while she thought about her current plans. Rose had decided to emancipate herself from the Dursleys when she was older. Thanks to the librarian at the school, she had learnt enough about what she would need. She was hoping to do well at school in order to get a scholarship to a boarding school, anything to get as far from the Dursleys as she could for much of the year. The good news was she could do that at the age of 16, but she was planning on becoming a prostitute, secretly, in order to pay her bills.
She was deeply uncomfortable at first with the prospect of selling her body, but she couldn't figure out a better way of getting enough money to get by on until she could get herself a proper job. Rose knew she would need a lot of money in order to get by and to survive without relying on the Dursleys. She knew they would never give her money, not if they planned on turning her out on the street. She would need to survive on her own.
Rose had accepted that. She found that she genuinely did not care about what the Dursleys thought, and she knew that if they did throw her out without having a contingency plan then she would be hopeless. She needed to be prepared. Rose wondered how many days she would have before that day came. Part of her tried to be optimistic - she would be freed from the Dursleys, but the idea of becoming a whore didn't bother her somehow. In a way, it felt right. It might even be fun.
As she was musing about the prospects of her future, Rose's thoughts came to a cranking halt as she caught sight of a story in the newspaper that caught her eye. Rose leaned in and read the article carefully.
The story was about a woman called Betty Lou Beets, an American woman who had murdered her own husband. According to the newspaper, Beets had been helped by her son, who had later testified to helping his mother conceal the body of his own father, her husband - her fifth husband, who had been shot with two gunshots. The police had found the decomposed corpse of Beet's fourth husband, Doyle Wayne Barker. The body had been found in the yard of her home underneath a shed. The newspapers were already calling her the "Black Widow of Henderson County," and it didn't take long for her to learn what a "black widow" was, apart from the spider.
A black widow was a woman who married a man only to later kill them for their money. As she re-read the article and learnt more about this woman who had married more than once, Rose realised how the woman had gotten caught. She had been sloppy; okay, so she didn't know all of the details behind the woman's life or why it had been so relatively simple for the police to catch on, but she could see ways in which it would be easy for a woman like that to be caught.
Not long after the husband's death?
Identity not being changed?
And then Rose figured it out. She would become a black widow, just not like the ones depicted in the newspaper. She would merge prostitution with the black widow serial killer. She would be a prostitute and she would go out into the world, find men, and then have sex with them in order to get their money… and then, she would kill them for more money.
Enthralled by the new possibilities that were entering her mind, Rose made a vow to be just like this woman though she was certain there were others out there. She would look them up in the library. Hopefully, there would be books out there describing the deeds of some of these "black widows" and she would learn from their mistakes, and make herself better than they were. It was obvious to them that although Betty was good, she had made so many mistakes. She would not do the same things. For a start, just because she would be a black widow did not mean necessarily she would marry anyone.
The black man's memories about his online bank account fixed in her mind which she had picked up upon using her mental probing when they had first met although she had picked up a little bit more when they'd had sex, Rose was currently checking the man's bank accounts to see if he had the amounts of money he thought he had.
The internet was amazing. With it she could advertise her services as a prostitute (escort, hooker, call girl, tom, slut, trollop - Rose honestly did not give a monkeys about what some people called her and her trade), upload videos onto different sites, which she did whenever she had a few guys fuck her at home, unknowing that they would be part of a porn film, or she could be practical. She could buy things like books, DVDs, anything.
Rose studied one bank account carefully before she checked the others. The black man (she really should have found out his name, but since sometimes she could not be bothered or even concerned with trivia like that it made no difference) had a few bank accounts. One with Barclays where he had banked £300,000, another was with HSBC where he had banked twice that number, and again with NatWest.
"£12,000," Rose whispered, smiling. "So worth it."
In a way the discovery of the magical world had been both a godsend and a nightmare for her plans; on one hand, the magical world allowed her to get away from the Dursleys and it allowed her the opportunity to learn something better. On the other hand, she had to put up with Lord Voldemort and his followers who wouldn't leave her alone any more than Albus Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix did.
It hadn't taken Rose long to realise all the Houses barring Gryffindor were not for her; she didn't want to go into Hufflepuff, she had no-one to feel loyal too besides herself since no-one had ever been loyal to her, and she looked out for herself since no-body else would. Ravenclaw was likewise out - while she liked to view herself as smart, Rose knew the house would drive her completely mad with them trying to work out how she had survived the night she had lost her parents.
Slytherin was also out. It was a shame because she could see herself excelling in that house, but after encountering a few would-be Slytherins, Draco Malfoy among them, and discovered that Voldemort and a fair number of his followers (most of them let off, much to her surprise and shock since they were terrorists and yet they had bribed their way out of prison) had been Slytherin although a lot of them came from some of the other houses, but she knew that her life would be a never-ending battlefield. She had had more than enough of that at Number 4. She did not need it here.
No, it had to be Gryffindor, although it didn't take long before Rose found that she was just as much of an alien there as well. She had made friends with Parvati and Lavender, but her main 'friends' were Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.
For five long years, Rose Potter worked to get away from both worlds. It didn't take her long to work out Ron and Hermione were Dumbledore's spies, and that Dumbledore himself was trying to make sure she went down a particular path, but it wasn't until her fifth year that things changed.
But anyway, her life changed for the better when she was twelve years old.
She celebrated her birthday by sneaking out of the Dursleys with a magical disguise created by her custom wand. It was amazing what you could find in Diagon Alley if you managed to con Hagrid into letting you think you were cooperating. The minute she had returned to Privet Drive after her first year, reeling from the encounter with Voldemort who had been hiding in the back of a teacher's skull, Rose had almost lost everything to the Dursleys, who had tried to regain some control of the situation by taking her things and shoving them in the cupboard, and then locking her up.
She had let them think they had succeeded, and then the next morning she had blasted the door of the small bedroom off its hinges and attacked the Dursleys in such a savage way they had been cowed.
"Ten years. For ten years you were in control, but not any more. You have failed completely in keeping my life and heritage a secret. You failed in stopping Hagrid from taking me to Hogwarts and opening an unexpected door. I know who and what I am. I am your superior in every sense of the word, you were not. I am a witch, and I'm proud to be better than your disgusting family. You tried to take my things and lock them up, thinking I would roll over and allow it. Did you really think I was not prepared? I knew you would try something like this, so I prepared. I learnt how to curse people; I know how to cast a Blood-Boiling curse, I can shatter your bones, and heal them. You are not in charge anymore, you stupid, filthy, disgusting animals. After all, did not God give dominion over all beasts to Man? How does it feel to have your filthy muggle religion shoved down your own throats? Did you never once think, not ever, what would happen if you tried to keep my heritage from me, you filthy muggles? You tried to have someone perform an exorcism. I will find that man, and you will be attending his funeral. It could be a prelude of things to come. I don't care if you see me as evil, I don't care about your attitudes, and it does not matter to me if any of you live or die. You are beneath me. From now on, the three of you will leave alone. You will not speak to me unless I speak to you. From now on there will be order in this house. You will stay away from me at all times, any attempt to steal my wands, my books, or anything else, and I will kill you. That's it - if you try to be brave, it will cost all three of your life. Any taunts, any put-downs, about being a 'freak', as you so eloquently put it, and I punish the three of you and believe me, I will be more than happy to teach the three of you on what level you're on compared to me. I'm not going to try to prove magic is good - yeah, I said the word, grow the fuck up. You brought it on yourselves. If you have a business meeting in this house, let me know. I will make alternative plans to accommodate you. I have shown you a demonstration of my power, and its the start of payback of what will happen to you over time. You three signed your death warrants when you began to abuse me, and I did plan my revenge on you. From now on, you better be prepared to dig your own graves."
The Dursleys had done as they were told. They had left her alone though they hadn't had any choice in the matter, they had even made sure she didn't have any chores, and Dudley kept his stupid friends away from her.
Occasionally Vernon, who never learnt from his mistakes, tried to regain control but she was always prepared for her obese uncle. When he once tried to go too far, she shattered the bones in his knees before breaking the bones in Dudley's hand. The punishment to both himself and his son was designed to tell Vernon if he tried anything, another member of his family would share his pain. Occasionally she lashed out over the years even when the Dursleys did nothing, but she did it to prove that she was in control the entire time.
Fear was the motivator, and she had learnt to use it well. It was the only weapon she had. Anybody else would have simply tried to turn the other cheek, try to move on, or try to make the Dursleys understand, but Rose didn't bother. She knew their hatred was too ingrained, and besides, why should she?
Anyway, on her twelfth birthday and a few nights after that, she used spells on herself to appear a few years older than she had been, and she went into town or even into London where she both lost her virginity and went through her first gang-bang. She had put all of her practice into blowjobs to good use.
In years to come, she would remember that, and she would often venture out into clubs and bars in skimpy clothes that would leave absolutely NOTHING to the imagination. But for her first act, she had gone in with her eyes open, unsure whether or not she would even like the experience.
She had been wrong.
She hadn't liked the experience, she had loved it. Totally liked it.
All in all, a magical night, and she had decided she really loved sex. She loved how cock entered her pussy, thrusting in and out, in and out. Oooh, she loved sex! It also put the green light of her plans to become a prostitute.
Sure she'd had a bit of trouble with Dobby the House Elf, but she had lied and told the House-Elf she had no intention of returning, anything to get the creature away from her. Sure, it had been hard to return to Hogwarts, but she had managed it even though the little bastard had given her more than a few problems.
In the summer after the second year after dealing with the basilisk and having to encounter that shade of Voldemort (she was just going to call the bastard Tom; she didn't like his pathetic name, it was too melodramatic for her tastes), she had just wanted to be left alone. She had taken the diary to the Goblins for study because she did not trust the wizards to give her any clues. To say the goblins were furious when they learnt Riddle had created a Horcrux had been an understatement, and they had taught her a few spells for detecting them. She had already booked a trip to France and she only had a couple of weeks in Britain before she left. Unfortunately, when she had arrived she had found out Marge Dursley had invited herself round. Ripper had come, too. The filthy, aged bulldog had immediately gone for her. Bad idea.
After the fallout of seeing Ripper's steaming, skinless body had settled, Rose had then cursed Marge and the Dursleys to remind them who was in charge. Marge was warned if she tried anything, or said anything…she would regret it. She had also restricted Marge to a water-only diet, knowing from long and hard experience the woman had a loose mouth when she spoke, and she had already found herself in agony after mouthing off about Rose, though Lily and James were neutral subjects. Rose didn't think a great deal about her parents, and when she left the country to do some travelling after making her plans, she put it all behind her.
Of course, the mess caused by Sirius Black did not mean she didn't have fun at the school, though she had needed to keep Ron and Hermione out of her hair.
She had essentially become a prostitute when she had begun her third year. It hadn't been hard, she had seduced a few boys, had sex with them, and had them pay her a few Galleons and Sickles. After that she had wiped their memory of the event so they wouldn't work out what had happened to their cash. She had even had sex with both Fred and George Weasley, and a fair few other boys from the different houses.
The discovery that Sirius was her godfather was hard to swallow. The idea that she even had a godfather had hurt, but she hadn't even had a proper chance to learn how that felt, because Severus "I can't let go of my grudges because I am a child pretending to be man" Snape overpowered her before she could reveal Sirius' innocence, and he was kissed by the Dementors. Dumbledore…. Rose had no idea if the old bastard had endorsed the plan or not, but in any case, if the old man assumed she would learn to trust him, especially after that, then he was deeply, deeply, deeply mistaken.
She hadn't bothered returning to Privet Drive. She had ignored all the mail and she had gone out of her way to keep away from the magical world while she prepared to make Cornelius Fudge's life a living hell. Unfortunately, the Tri-wizard tournament had hampered her plans, what with everyone turning on her, though it hadn't really bothered her as much as some may have surmised. Rose honestly no longer cared about the magical world, and if they either went around with those stupid badges that read "Potter Stinks" and stupid newspaper articles about her, they were too far gone in their own collective stupidity. She had long since held contempt for the magical world, and as the years had gone by, that contempt had begun to morph into hatred. Seriously, why couldn't Hogwarts just be a fucking school for a change? She had not played any games in any of the tasks, though she had needed to ask whether Riddle had lost some of his IQ, because if she had wanted some blood, then she would not have done what he had.
Honestly, why didn't the idiot Dark Lord stop with using his mouth to think, why couldn't he use his brain for a change?
What if she had been killed during the tasks? It would have been pathetically easy for the dragon to have killed her by roasting her alive, to say nothing of how she had come dangerously close to drowning while she had saved Gabrielle Delacour (contrary to what Granger thought, she hadn't done it out of a saving people thing; Gabrielle was just a little girl, and it was just wrong on so many levels to harm a defenceless child, though it hadn't stopped many people in the past. If Riddle had just wanted blood, why didn't he simply get one of his loyal Death Eaters, or even take control of someone in the school, to take some of her blood and get it back to Voldemort where no-one would have been any the wiser? That would be precisely what Rose would have done in Riddle's case, but it certainly seemed as though common sense was something that no longer existed in the Dark Lord's mind.
Rose smirked as she took out another wad of cash out of the ATM. She had practically cleared one of the accounts of the man whom she'd fucked a couple of nights, and she still had other cards to plunder. She knew she had only a small amount of time before the police caught on to what she had done, but with the repelling charms she'd placed on the guy's door no-one would get suspicious until later on.
The black man she had killed may have been a drug dealer, which gave him a lot of cash in itself, but his other life as a recruitment consultant would mean he would be missed. But with the charm preventing the neighbours from knocking on the door, it would take time for him to be missed properly. But his employers would get worried and they would get the police involved. Still, she had a window of opportunity before anyone got to that point.
The repelling charms were a precaution, really, which she had begun to use at all times.
When Rose had first begun as a black widow, she had made the mistake of simply leaving one of her earliest victims. Unfortunately for her, the said victim had been quite a social person. It wasn't long after she had even left someone had gone round, looked through the window, and raised the alarm before Rose had even had the chance to collect and spend his cash. After that disappointment Rose had begun cashing repelling charms over the homes of the places owned by her victims.
She checked her watch and cursed under her breath when she saw she was nearly late for work. Leaving the ATM and placing the cash discreetly into her purse and handbag, though she wasn't worried; she had placed all sorts of dangerous and vicious curses on her property over the years, and her handbag was no exception. There was also a charm on it to prevent muggles from trying to snatch it from her. Still, it was a good idea to take precautions, especially since the purse snatcher could be a magical themselves. The charms worked only on muggles. More than once over the years Rose had come face to face with muggle-borns who'd left the magical world, though truthfully, what she had heard over the years about the unfairness towards muggle-borns was just conjecture. In fact, many muggle-borns got jobs, but only a couple of handfuls each year, but quite a few left the magical world, particularly those who hadn't done well at Hogwarts. They left and a large majority of them became criminals.
Rose pushed that thought aside as she flicked her long red hair back and walked away, swinging her hips as she walked away from the ATM, attracting numerous stares from men although truthfully she was as gorgeous as many other girls nearby, she just flaunted it a little better. She ignored the stares of disapproval from the women, she knew she was better than they were.
Rose smirked as the man walked into the room that had been left, just for her, at the brothel after he had cleaned himself a little bit because she insisted on good hygiene before a fuck. Just because prostitution was illegal in the UK didn't mean it didn't happen. The man who had just walked in wasn't physically attractive, he was quite corpulent and his face was ruddy either from drinking or high blood pressure, but she didn't particularly care.
It hadn't taken Rose long enough to work out that prostitution was a business. You had compromise and make deals, and even if she wouldn't have let this man see her naked, which she was now if she hadn't chosen her current career after what Petunia had said before she had gone to the library to get those answers, she knew that. While this man was unattractive, to be a good prostitute you needed to see the bigger picture and compromise.
Rose let the man fondle her boobs, and she closed her eyes and moaned, encouraging him to rub them harder. As he pushed her onto her back, she opened her long legs and let him shove his cock into her pussy. As he thrust in and out of her cunt, Rose let her mind wander. She had left Number 4 Privet Drive, deciding to let the Dursleys fend for themselves, worried she was going to come back. Although she hated the family, she wasn't going to waste her time playing games with them.
She wasn't like Tom Riddle. She had tortured them as a punishment, but the greatest punishment they would ever have now she was gone after she had used the basilisk money from the creature she'd killed in her second year to buy a flat in London would be waiting for her to return to finish the job. She didn't care if they moved out of Little Whinging in a few years, and she had no idea how long it would take before they worked out for themselves she was not going to go after them.
Rose pushed the thoughts of the Dursleys out of her mind and let her current client fuck her. "Oh, oh, Yesss!" she moaned. When they'd climaxed, Rose had waited for a few minutes before she stood up, gazing at him thoughtfully with a grin. She got up, stood up and began to dance, and straddled one leg over the man's crotch, giggling when she saw him gaze at her in amazement as he watched the gorgeous girl who was obviously quite young give him a lap dance.
He hoped she stayed in the brothel. She was amazing, and he was definitely going to tell his mates.
Rose sighed in relief when the last customer left the flat. Once she was sure he had gone, she picked up her wand and reapplied the muggle-repelling wards she had taken down earlier for her customers. She wasn't going to leave the flat tonight, she was going to just stay here and get some decent rest. After her client had gone, Rose went and took a shower. As she soaped her body, doing her level best to ignore the pleasure shooting through her body when she touched her still-sensitive boobs, she ran her hands over her flat tummy.
Ignoring the water cascading all over her body, Rose rubbed her tummy. When she had been younger, she had always dreamt of having a family, but over the years that desire had faded because she had no-one in her life. But she knew she had the means to become a parent. While Rose had chosen the life of prostitution and murder, she had not worked out until much later on in life that her life was, inherently, empty.
Part of her wanted to be a mother, but did she really want to bring a child into the world? How would she care for the child? Prostitution was not family-friendly.
Rose sighed and carried on with soaping her body. She would put more thought into it later.
Rose looked dispassionately down at the corpse of Lord Voldemort, aka Tom Riddle. After a long year of finding the bastards soul-pieces, she felt nothing but a blankness over her mind as she looked at the corpse of one of the people whom she blamed for so much of her grief. It had been a hard fight. Dumbledore had taught her about the Horcruxes, but the stupid man had wasted a whole year explaining about Voldemort's background. He never taught her any decent spells on how to use to detect them. He didn't even teach her how to destroy them, but fortunately, she had found a lot of information in the Room of Requirement.
Rose was glad she had. If Dumbledore had his way, she would have gone out on the insane quest unprepared. She had picked up a spell for detecting the Horcruxes, and she had detected two in the Room of Requirement with her. One of them was a Diadem she recognised from Hogwarts: A History as Ravenclaw's famous diadem, the other was in her scar. From what she had learnt, there was a ritual that could remove a Horcrux from living beings, and since she had access to a few of the ingredients it hadn't been difficult to purge the Horcrux from her scar. The diadem Horcrux had merely been hit by a killing curse.
By the time that mess at the cave had arrived, Rose had already ended Riddle's hold by killing three Horcruxes, the first was in her second year, the other two were her scar and the diadem.
The Horcrux hunt had not been a good one. Granger and Weasley had come with her, although she had told them not to bother. She didn't understand it, really. With Dumbledore dead, who was going to pay them? Still, her use of the Killing curse had scared them off, and they had told her she was a dark witch.
Rose did not care. Their beliefs about the magical world meant nothing to her, though she found it incredible a girl like Hermione Granger thought she knew everything when in fact she didn't. Still, it wasn't Rose's problem - Hermione Granger belief in her own self-importance had nothing to do with her; in any case, she was more sympathetic to the girl's parents. She would never have thought the girl, believing she was keeping her parents safe by wiping them of their memories would go that far, though whether or not their memories were restored, Rose didn't know and frankly she didn't really care.
She had been glad it hadn't taken long before they had both fucked off. After that, it had been child's play to wipe out the Horcruxes. Sure, the Gringotts one had been a challenge, but instead of blundering into the place, as she was sure Granger and Weasley would have done, she had told the goblins about the soul piece in their bank. They had not liked that.
Rose cast her eyes about the battlefield. Surrounding the dead body of Voldemort were dozens of dead or dying Death Eaters. She had killed as many of them as she had liked, using the various curses she had picked out for killing large numbers of people in one go. She knew that the magical world would condemn her for that, but she didn't care. She had told the Light they didn't have the guts for a real war. She had been right. Rose sighed and walked away, casting a disillusionment charm over herself so she could leave unseen. Once she crossed the threshold of the wards she disapparated.
She had a great future of lying on her back ahead of her, and she didn't want to miss out and be late.
Rose felt her mind go blank as she watched Eastenders. She didn't particularly like soap operas, but she didn't feel like she could watch one of the movies or TV series in her collection. In any case, she had the time to let her mind drift while she read a book. When Eastenders ended she lifted her head so she could watch the news.
When a picture of the drug dealer/recruitment consultant appeared on the screen, she just idly lifted her cup of tea and took a sip. The newsreaders reported that he had been murdered five days ago, though she was more interested in finding out if they had any evidence of who had done it, only to discover to her relief they didn't, they also didn't seem to realise just prior to his death, the man had been engaged in sex, but that was expected since he had incinerated the body a little before she had left, though she had quickly gotten rid of the stench of human barbecue though the news report on that was pretty vague, the police had records of his bank accounts being emptied gradually over a period of four days.
Rose was slightly disappointed it had taken so long for anyone to get an idea the guy was dead, but she wasn't worried. There was no way anyone could tie her to it. The CCTV around the ATMs had been magically shut down, and muggles had no way of knowing why that was since she had shut them down an hour or two in advance.
Rose smirked as she looked around the club, and she danced wildly and let her long model-quality hair sweep from side to side as she gyrated and let her boobs entice a few guys before she found her first victim. It had been a month since she had faked her own death and let the magical world think she was gone for good, and so far her anonymity seemed to have worked while she studied at a college. She was just thankful she had carried on with her muggle education since she didn't want to rely on prostitution all her life to get by.
But now… now she was ready to begin.
She found her victim when she caught sight of a tall man who looked out of place in the club, but as she watched him nursing a drink, she walked over to him and draped her arm around him so she would look into his eyes to probe his mind gently. He had just been separated from his wife and kids, but she wasn't worried there.
She gently pulled the astonished man around, and she began to dance in front of his astonished gaze. She felt his arousal as she gyrated and straddled his pelvis, and she smirked, knowing he was under her spell completely.
Later, as she wiped the cum and the blood off of her face after she killed him, Rose looked down at the corpse before she left the room.
"Look out world," she'd muttered, "the sexiest, sluttiest black widow has been born."
More to come.