Disclaimer: Just about everyone has a disclaimer that says they don't want to be sued, or they don't own the story or any sort of copyright in anyway relating to the story and its characters. So, at instead of repeating someone else's statement, I will just say that you're an idiot if you don't get it already. Got it?

Summary: Harry wakes almost nightly from a recurring dream, a dream that has him on edge and unable to think properly. His connection with Voldemort has taken a turn for the worse and he suddenly finds himself doing things he'd never do. And who is this woman who is bringing out feelings of undeniable pleasure? Will his perception of the woman he hates most change?

The Challenge: Everyone knows about Harry's connection to Voldemort and how he can feel what Voldemort feels. What if he starts having visions of Voldemort doing the dirty deed with Bellatrix and it colors his perceptions of the Hottie Death Eater. What happens when they next meet?
To add a further wrinkle to the story, what if Bella is beginning to see something in her Dark Lord, something that has never been there before, something she sees also in Harry's eyes...
…something she could love…

Note: A response to a challenge issued by jon3776 of He asked me to write something on one of his challenges, and I decided on this one (finally). I don't plan on making it too long, just a novella, like Narcotic Effects was. If you like the idea and want more stories I want to see some reviews. I seriously have been sucking up every bit of life they can give me lately because I haven't been in all that great of a mood. Show some mercy and give me some happiness by clicking the little button that says review. I don't know how long this fic will be, it's unwritten, I'm just sort of writing it on the spur of the moment.

Black Kisses
• Mehetabelo •

Chapter 01
• Dreams •

Harry sat up, covered in a cold sweat. The dreams were back again and back with force.

Since the middle of his sixth year he had mastered the basics of occlumency and been able to keep Voldemort out of his head. He had slept at night and focused on teaching the DA and learning everything he could for his inevitable battle with Voldemort. The same battle which never seemed to come.

Voldemort was smart, even smarter than last time. He was quick and clean whenever he attacked, getting things done so fast that, by the time that Aurors showed up, his target had been looted and destroyed. People were afraid again, Diagon Alley was nearly deserted and Hogsmeade had become a town filled with refugees and under constant guard. No one was safe from the Death Eaters, not even Hogwarts had been untouched. Earlier in the year a Slytherin by the name of Daphne Greengrass had just disappeared without notice. Her parents, who were muggles, had been contacted and were currently in hiding.

The damned dreams only made things worse, and it was the fourth time this week. Harry wasn't sure how long it would be before the dreams would be permanently etched into his memory, which could very well be a bad thing.

Harry pulled himself out of bed, looking across the room to the four-poster Ron was in. He was quiet, which meant he'd either snuck in one of his girlfriends in the middle of the night and had a silencing spell up, or he was awake. Harry didn't even bother checking, he knew that if Ron was awake and he checked he'd never hear the end of the questions that would ensue.

Truthfully, he was pretty sure he hadn't screamed during this dream, it hadn't exactly been the sort of dream he would scream about. He had woken as Voldemort, with a woman on top of him doing things he had only been able to imagine up until the week before. It was not the same each night, it was always different, and it was not really a bad dream either. He was scared though, scared that he had enjoyed what was happening. There was something wrong about it, something wrong with being turned on in someone else's body, especially when it was Voldemort's.

Silently he slipped from the room, taking the steps carefully and making sure to avoid some of the objects that were scattered on the floor. He stood next to the door, listening to the soft snoring from the room and turning the doorknob ever so quietly. When it had turned all the way he pulled the door open and then slipped out, taking care to close it just as quietly as he'd opened it.

After making his way down the stairs he threw a few logs into the fire and poked it with a sticker so that the flames flickered higher. Then he pulled a chair closer and was about ready to sit in it when someone spoke. "What'cha doing?" she asked.

Harry swirled to look at her, eyes wide. He spotted someone curled up on the couch. He knew who it was, she'd been assigned to his protection and had been skulking around every corner he turned. It was more than irritating, it was infuriating. Part of it was because she tried to be sneaky about it, but it wasn't that hard to identify the stumbling Auror. She was actually on the floor half the time he passed by. The majority of the problem was that Fudge was now taking turns in the control-Harry's-life game, something that Harry was pretty sure he wasn't even playing any more.

"Leave me alone Tonks," Harry snapped, seeing the playful look wither like a dying flower.

Part of him wanted to apologize, but something inside him didn't feel like apologizing, something that had been affected by the scene he'd just witnessed a few minutes ago in his dreams.

"Harry?" Tonks asked, no longer trying to be playful or sarcastic. Her voice was solid, the sort of voice that was used on him when he was in trouble. Even just the one-word question was meaningful. Turning away from her, Harry marched off towards the portrait door, intent on leaving.

The door was locked, just as it always was, something Harry had forgotten. At night the portrait had been commanded not to let anyone out except prefects and teachers, and as the fat lady stood there, staring at him, Harry knew he wasn't about to convince her otherwise. One thing she wasn't, was lenient.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tonks asked as Harry stomped past her again.

He felt a touch of magic and he was frozen in position mid-movement. He tried to scream but nothing came out as he plummeted to the ground, still frozen solid.

"Fine, if you don't want to talk about it, I will." Tonks announced to him. He felt himself lifted into the air and placed back down on the chair he'd pulled over. He was released from the body-bind only to find himself immediately surrounded by ropes. "If you're going to be a child about this whole thing it's up to you, but I'll treat you just like I'd treat a child."

Harry started to say something but more rope wrapped around his mouth, keeping his jaw from moving at all. "You're going to listen to me whether you like it or not," Tonks snapped.

No amount of struggling would let him loose, so Harry watched, with burning eyes, as Tonks stood above him. "First of all, I know you hate that I'm always following you around, but I'm an Auror, and that's what I've been assigned to do. I can either quit, fail, or piss you off, and none of the options sounds so good right now. Second, I want to make sure you're safe, so that leaves me with only one option, since I don't trust anyone else to keep you safe. Third, I don't know what the hell's wrong with you, and why you've been distancing yourself from everyone over the past week. It's like you've got some pent up frustration and you're taking it out on all your friends."

Harry had found something amazing as he stared at Tonks. The woman had the same lips. They weren't huge, puffy lips, nor were they thin, they were medium sized, and pronounced, with small lines that appeared in the corners when she smiled or frowned. He couldn't help but stare at them, so red, so kissable. He even tilted forward as much as the ropes would allow without realizing it.

"Harry!" Tonks said, cutting through his thoughts, suddenly much closer than before, as if the picture had frozen in Harry's mind or a minute while she moved closer. "Talk to me."

The feeling of the ropes around his mouth disintegrated and without thinking, Harry leaned forward to kiss her. Tonks pulled back so fast you would have thought Harry was Voldemort himself. She stared, stunned, touching her lips with her hand.

"You have her lips," Harry said quietly. "They're so beautiful."

Tonks covered her lips with her mouth and when she removed her hand they were thin, lightly colored lips, nothing like before. In fact, they looked a good deal like McGonagall when she was angry and her lips thinned to almost nothing.

"Whose lips?" she demanded immediately.

Angry that she'd made the lips go away, Harry closed his eyes and refused to even look at her. "No you don't," Tonks said, and his eyes shot open again. Her lips were still the same though, and Harry looked to the side, refusing to look at her.

"Fine," was all he heard before Tonks disappeared, leaving him tied up on the chair for the rest of the night. Needless to say, when Hermione found him in the morning, he wasn't particularly happy with Tonks.

•

Three nights later, when Harry woke from the same dream he closed his eyes again, imagining it happening to him. He opened his eyes and it felt as if it were more real, he could feel more sensations than he had before. As her tongue moved its way up his stomach, he shuddered with pleasure that he couldn't imagine.

The tongue stopped at that moment. For the first time the face rose from beneath him and he saw the ashen white complexion turn to him, her face surprised at something that had happened.

Something snapped in him as he stared, mouth agape. He recognized her, though she wasn't the same as when he'd last seen her. The dark hair was no longer tangled, it was a gently soft texture, touchable and infuriating. He face, which had lost is beauty in Azkaban had regained much of it, he could see the strong features that had stood out in the pictures he'd seen before.

He roared in fury and slapped her aside with that same fury. Then, a jolt passed through him and he awaked more severely than he eve had before. He curled into a ball, crying at the face that had burned itself into his memory so many times before.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

• Edited 2004.12.05 •