My Finished Fantastic Beasts time travel: When All the World's Against (And you have no fucks left to give).
And my Luna and Harry time travel together and become magizoologists story that stole Deadly Belladonna's subplot: The Delicate Art of Raising Thestrals.
AN: I removed these ideas from this story not because of the critique to my writing but due to the number of hate boners for Fantastic Beasts. Please stop whining at me for either my original ambitions for this story or my patience running out for all you die-hard fanon folks. I recycled the ideas because Legasp! all of these stories are drafts, not published novels. I'm not the type of writer who is afraid to kill my darlings to tighten the plot.
WARNING: Brief reflection on drugged non-con.
Chapter 22 - The Black Sisters
Andromeda Tonks had once been a woman of such strength and fortitude as to never be broken.
She had been perfect once too, a respectable Black.
A perfect sister.
Until the day her mother arranged a marriage between her and one of the Lestrange boys.
She had only to meet the boys' father, to feel his gaze done her body, the hand he ran down her eldest sister's thigh, and to see the leer he gave to her youngest sister in full view of their mother to know that to marry into this family would be the death of her.
The Lestranges did not respect their women, neither their wives nor daughters.
Everything rebelled in Andromeda to remain in the house with these monsters, to have their gazes set on her sisters like predators.
Even the Malfoys were a better sort than these.
Not that Bella would listen. Andromeda had begged her to listen.
Their mother, like Sirius's mother was criminally insane and a sadist. Andromeda knew that Bella, in particular, suffered for her and Cissa's safety.
But Bella did not listen, and Andromeda could not stay, could not bare to watch those she loved to be broken down.
Andromeda never thought she could be whole without her sisters, but Ted saved her, saved her from herself.
Andromeda wasn't sure how to fight for herself, but she had known how to fight for those she loved.
And fight for love she did, for Ted became her light, her reason for being.
And he gifted her Nymphadora who would know nothing of the life Andromeda had known.
Her baby girl would never be forced to hide in a closet, listening to her older sister scream as their mother punished her.
Andromeda did try for more children, but it was not to be.
Perhaps it was for the best.
She had been strong.
So strong.
Under torture, they never got anything out of her about Harry Potter and his friends during the second war.
She never broke, keeping her grandson safe as her foolish son-in-law stole her Dora onto the battlefield before she was fully recovered from giving life to Teddy.
Nymphadora abandoned them both for a man who hated himself more than he would ever love anyone else.
Andromeda had waited, holding her godson close.
Ted had already died by then, leaving her alone to guard what remained of their family.
But then Nymphodora hadn't returned.
Andromeda had failed them. Failed her sisters who became exactly what their husbands and masters made of them, failed her husband who had not trusted her, and failed her daughter who had married poorly and chosen death over her own son.
Teddy had been all that was left.
Andromeda had been so tried, so ready to join those she lost. It was a battle to get out of bed, much less take care of a baby.
And then there was Harry, who seemed to come in and fix everything when he had less than nothing himself.
Andromeda could admit to herself that she was using him. He wasn't yet eighteen and already taking care of a baby and a woman so depressed in her grief she often forgot to eat, much less shower, or run errands.
Harry took care of it all, he made it easy.
Even as his own marriage was torn assunder, even as he battled with his own demons, he took care of her.
She was broken then, and as only a broken woman could do, she offered the godfather of her grandson comfort.
Physical comfort.
She owed him such a debt after all.
A debt that could never truely be repaid.
She could not say she did not grow to love the boy, for Harry was the sort that once you knew him, how could you not love him? How could you not welcome being loved by him?
Still, it was wrong of her to take advantage of all that he offered when she had little to return. But she could not stop from gluttoning herself on his touch, his love, and how very easy he made her life.
She felt hidious for it, the worst sort of monster for it. She could never love him enough.
Nothing in this world would ever be enough.
This horrible world where all was tainted by misery.
Andromeda began experimenting again with potions, attempting to make herself useful.
She had so many debts she could not pay, perhaps if she made of her misery and self-loathing something that would heal and not hurt, it would even the scales. So that is what she did do.
If she was not as careful as she should have been with the potions, who was there to notice?
When both Teddy and Harry left for Hogwarts, Andromeda brewed with windows sealed tight. If her headaches increased in number and in intensity, who was there to care?
Harry? Her darling Harry who would save everyone but himself?
If he truly thought he could save her then he did not understand.
He understood nothing.
She also began to self-medicate, over indulging, regularly and increasingly so.
She hid it well from Harry, from his family, and from soiceity itself. Harry thought to well of her to notice and trusted her too well to over guess her growing addiction to nightshade.
To Belladonna.
After all, it wasn't as if she would experiment on any other but herself. It was during this downward spiral she discovered a parallel universe theory and she realised that in a hundred or more realities, her loved ones suffered still.
That her baby would live and breathe and die the same ill-fated death, and that Harry, her dearest Harry who deserves so much better would live to see the same miserable existence.
She wasn't certain what compelled her then, but for years, she chased a solution for a galaxy that was not her own. A universe that she had no business meddling in except that she knew –knew– that if there was another Andromeda whose sister could still be saved, who's travesties could be negated, that she would bend reality to make it happen.
She knew her Harry would neither understand nor forgive her.
But perhaps, another Harry would be grateful to be sparred his original destiny, perhaps another Nymphodora would live to see her child grow, and perhaps, her sisters could be saved. If anyone but cared for them.
Andromeda is still surprised Harry didn't see it, her deception, her hunger for a reality not their own.
But then, he hadn't seen Dumbledore's treachery either.
Andromeda supposed she should have been ashamed of the villain she had become to someone she owed so much.
To one whom she had professed to love.
But nightshade was a peculiar drug that deadened the pain, and empathy, that seemed to reknit the broken bits of her.
Magic had very few limitations and iminate death made those possibilities all the brighter.
In the end, she died with more regrets than she could remember. Perhaps the story of Andromeda Tonks neé Black ended in ashes, a fallen hero who hurt those she loved most.
But she died holding her daughter's hand, held securely in her husband's embrace.
She left her burdens at the gates to be counted and weighed against her, but the poison in her blood and the sickness in her mind did not follow her into the next life.
She was made new with no need of forgiveness or remembrance.
oOo
Narcissa was alone in the living room of the apartement her father had bought for her and her sisters to escape their mother when they had been able.
Narcissa vowed to herself that no child of hers would ever feel so threatened.
Perhaps she had failed Draco, having never believed Lucius could be so weak.
But Draco was safe now, as was the child in her womb
She danced in the living room, arms wrapped around her stomach to an old lullaby her father had sung her when she woke from nightmares playing in her mind.
Her steps were silent, yet the breeze created by her motions held her aloft in her dance.
She was going to have another baby.
Another love.
And this child would have all of her.
She liked Harris, she liked him as the father of her child. She knew that he would not fail his child as Lucius had failed Draco, time and time again.
She would always love Lucius, but she would never be able to trust him again.
She liked the needs Harris met for her and her family, and though she did not love him, she trusted him.
Narcissa Black Malfoy had learned the hard way that trust was more important than love.
At least, where children were concerned.
She did not turn into bed that night as let herself dream and build in her mind a future for children, for what challenges her family might face and, by all the breath in her body and light of the stars, would overcome.
oOo
Bella had been granted permission to follow Harris to Hogwarts as his assistant, but they still spent most nights at their apartment in London
Her act in saving Neville Longbottom, as well as a full and tested explanation of the cuffs she and Harris wore to Minerva McGonagall, granted her access to a world she never thought she would be a part of.
Things between her and Harris hadn't grown, gentle kisses, sweet gestures, but nothing… more yet.
Which she knew was her choice, he was waiting for her. She was both grateful and resentful. Grateful, because she would give him anything he asked, if he asked, even if it was more than she should give.
Resentful, because she didn't know how to ask for what she wanted.
Narcissa was here, she could have gone out to her or called out for her, but she didn't want her sister.
She wanted Harris.
Bella sat up in bed and reached for the night side table, she took the crystal Harris had given to her and dropped it into the glass of water beside the bed.
She felt a flair of magic inside her chest and with a soft pop, Harris was beside her.
She didn't give him time to ask before springing at him, holding onto as if she was drowning.
And maybe she was.
She didn't want to mess this up.
She started pulling at his clothes.
Harris huffed, but didn't protest as he aided her in disrobing.
Skin contact helped, and he knew that.
But tonight she wanted to offer him more.
Maybe she was forgiven the things she had done, maybe most of it had not been her choice.
But it would be a lie to say she had enjoyed nothing of her old life. It was not a lie to say she had been aware and active participant as a Death Eater, coerced, or otherwise.
Harris caught on rather fast to what she was attempting to do and hushed her, "Bella… What's wrong?"
"You don't want me," she started, flinching at the echoes that phrase caused in her.
He hushed her again, stroking her hair, and asked, "What do you want?"
"Family," she bit out.
"What do you want?"
her emotions were a riot inside of her mind and she blurted out, "To live, to be loved."
"But?" he asked, insufferably not leaping at the chance to take advantage of her.
She sighed, knowing they had had versions of this conversation before, she shared her fears anyway. "But I don't deserve it. Harris, I saved a baby, but I've ruined so many families. Why do I deserve this second chance?"
Harris was quiet for a long time, so long, she feared he would not answer.
Or worse, invent a clever lie to absolve her crimes she would carry to the grave with her.
He did neither, instead she recited poetry for her.
"You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves."
She did not speak, she could not without giving voice to the tears escaping down her cheeks.
She did bury her face into his chest as she sunk into his embrace, however.
She wondered what it would mean to truly love this man, and be loved in turn.
To not be just taken care of, but to possess both his affections and his sorrows.
What would it be like to make him burn the way he set her body on fire?
"Could you love me?" She asked when the tears ran their course and chest no longer felt like her lungs were trying to burst. "Could you love me?"
"Could I love the woman who gave up her freedoms and ambitions for her sister's wellbeing? Could I love a woman who gave up her sanity for love of her sister's son, and the son of couple who had wished you dead?"
"Could you?" she repeated. "You know there is darkness in me and crimes that I will never be able to undo."
He smoothed his touch down her hair, making her shiver. "I know longer know what is right and what is wrong. I do not know if loving you is taking advantage. Nor do I know if I care what is right."
She pressed her hand over his heart, "If you trust me to know myself, then I am a woman of whom you may take into your heart. If you do not trust me, then I am your ward, then I need nor want your pity. Do not doubt me, Harris, do not doubt that in surviving all that I have, that I know the life I wish for myself."
"And if I doubt myself?" he countered.
"My sisters and I do not trust in others, and when we do, it is a sole exception. Andromeda loved Ted, with jealousy and the intensity of someone willing to burn down the world for him. She gave you all that remained of her life, which was far less than you deserved. Narcissa loved Lucius, and his failure as her partner does not make her love him less, but with her son, she can no longer trust him. So she gave you her body and her hope. But neither could love you, neither could give you what they had already given away."
"And you?"
Bella smiled, "I have never trusted, I have never loved."
He traced a hand over her cheek, causing her to shudder, "Yet you would trust me to hold your heart?"
She traced his cheek bone in turm, "I would love you beyond reason. I would love you, beyond doubt or death. But I am not my sisters, if you failed me, I would kill you myself."
He smiled, and leaned in close, "I want– I want to be loved by someone who is unashamed of me, someone who wants to be at my side and be seen at my side. Someone who loves me enough to– to love me most."
"You are all that I want," she whispered, moving so that she was on top of him. "I would love you more than life."
He leaned up, his stomach bunching between her thighs, making something deep inside her clench as his lips brushed hers, his hands splay over her back.
"I trust you to know yourself, Bella Black. I do not doubt the woman you are or the witch you are becoming."
She wrapped her arms over his shoulders, threading her fingers through his hair, "Will you love me?"
"I do love you," he said. "I love you, the witch who even broken and wild, even hopeless and trapped, never failed to dance. Never lost your laughter."
"My laughter terrifies most people."
He smiled, "I have feared and hated some version of you, I have pitied you, and I have despised you. But I have felt those things of so many, including myself. If you left right now, I would love you. If you found happiness with someone else, I would rejoice for you. But I would be happy if you remained with me."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because you did not choose me for who I was, for my fame or because you had given up. Narcissa can care for you better than I can at this point."
"But I don't want Narcissa like I want you. I don't want to be taken care of anymore, I don't need you to be fulfilled, I don't need you to be happy. I want you because you do make me happier."
He kissed her again, "I wasn't looking for love when broke you out of prison."
"I didn't know what home looked like until you made my sister laugh, her hair unbound. I did not know what it was to be in love when you looked at me instead of her. Even when you hold her, you never forget about me."
"You are hard to forget."
"I want her in my home forever, I want to see you raise her children, I want to be their aunt, but I want you, Harris. I want you."
He spun her, pressed his front to hers and she shuddered as he lavished her with touch.
"Then I'm yours."
He did not fuck her, for the by the time he was finished with the foreplay, she was overwhelmed mess of sensation.
But in setting her world to burning, his eyes always assessing whether she was still present, she realised it didn't matter.
Her husband had only ever given a profuncturer interest in her satisfaction, more for his own pride than out of any care for her.
And when he had shared her with the Dark Lord, she had been to drugged to notice or care how it felt.
Pleasure had felt much the same to pain, indistinguishable, in fact.
But with Harris, everything felt… Beautiful and when it didn't, when he pushed in the wrong spots, he immediately eased back, giving her the heady feeling of being in control.
Of being present.
She might have reached a point of too much sensation, but Harris was neither disappointed not left her.
It was perhaps the furthest and most intimate sexual experience of her life that she had ever had without dissociating from her body or mind.
And as she laid there, trying to catch her breath as she shuddered through the aftershocks, she realised she was not afraid that Harris remained unfinished.
For they were finished for the night and she trusted that she could sleep without him taking more from her.
Without him being angry with her for not being able to do more tonight.
No, she realised with a giddy exhalation, she wasn't afraid of his reaction.
She knew him well enough, that she could tell he was happy and satisfied with what they had shared.
He seemed a bit smug really, and sleepy as he relaxed against her side.
It was a near revolution experience to have a bed partner who did not take more than she could give.
And even if some small part of her worried that this could not last unless she made him happy was easy enough to silence.
For like her, Harris seemed happy to share her space, like her, he could sleep knowing they had a future of many more nights to explore each other like this.
She needn't repay his attentions tomorrow because this wasn't about payments or even needs being met, this was… This was joy.
Intimacy.
Something precious to never be taken for granted.
Not every night would be the same, not every experience would be equal, but she finally met her person who would respect her and adore her.
Bella fell asleep, feeling loved and feeling more safe for the man who held her.
oOo
AN: Thoughts, plesiosaurs, or feedback on this chapter, pretty please?