Chapter One



The Three Broomsticks

"Hi Harry! How are you? Awful weather isn't it? I hope practice wasn't too bad." He placed his two bottles of Butterbeer on the table and slumped into the chair next to Hermione, leaning back as he started to rub his neck, trying to massage the knots out of his shoulders.

"You have no idea Hermione, he was making us do the drills over and over and over . . . . . . . I mean, the medi-witch is getting concerned about us you know, she's handing out pepper-up potions like sweets these days, but the bloody git won't listen to a word she says. He keeps saying it's good for us, that we should become accustomed to playing in "less than ideal conditions", so that we can use it to our advantage come wind, rain, sleet or snow. I hate it when he says that. My arm . . . . . . Hermione, my arm actually hurts from lifting this bottle." Hermione looked at him sympathetically as he took a good long swig of his Butterbeer. She reached over and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hang in there Harry, you've only got, what, four more matches until the winter break comes, and then the weather can only get better during the second half of the season right?" She gently squeezed his shoulder as she spoke to him.

"Yeah, I suppose . . ." He was trying hard not to notice, but Hermione was sitting awfully close to him, her knee was touching his and she was rubbing his arm slowly, it was comforting at first, now it was almost . . . . . . well . . . . . It was a little odd.

"Hermione, are you OK?" He looked at her with a bemused smile, wondering why she was acting a little more friendly than usual. She just smiled back at him.

"You're not drunk are you?" He said jokingly, she probably wanted to ask him a favor or something.

"Do you want me to be?" She moved herself even closer to Harry, a mischievous grin on her face as she continued to massage his shoulder. Harry's smile disappeared as he looked back at her, shocked at the way she was behaving; it was most un-Hermione like to be flirting with him like this. It was common knowledge amongst their friends that Hermione despised such behaviour; Harry could recount a few occasions when Hermione muttered "pathetic . . . ." a little too loudly, earning a few dirty looks from whichever Quidditch fan was clinging onto Harry's arm at the time.

Harry didn't know what to say, he was getting a little unnerved by the way she kept looking at him, the way she was leaning into him, the way she was sticking her chest out; she was acting like Lavender Brown does after a good few bottles of Butterbeer, and that was saying something. Hermione didn't look drunk, but she was certainly acting like it. He instinctively glanced down at her chest, and his eyes widened when he saw her nipples, they were poking through her white blouse, hard as ever, and he had to admit, Hermione had developed a nice set of large, full breasts, and he often wondered how soft they were to touch. But this was Hermione! he thought. She was his best friend, and the simple fact is, she's going out with Ron. Harry nervously shifted in his seat under her gaze; she was still looking back at him, this time with a knowing smile, she obviously caught him looking down at her. But a moment later, her eyes drifted over to the left.

"Oh look is that Remus?" She pointed over to the bar where there was a crowd of people laughing and talking amongst themselves, and Harry quickly turned his head around, desperate to have more company in hope that Hermione will back off from whatever she was trying to do. But he didn't see his old professor anywhere.

"Are you sure you saw him?" He asked, still sitting up in his chair, searching along the bar. He didn't notice Hermione carefully pouring a clear blue liquid into his Butterbeer.

"Oh, sorry, just saw someone that looked like him . . ." Harry turned back around to face her. She had placed both her elbows on the table and was now resting her chin on her hands. She was smiling back at him innocently, and seemed to have lost interest in flirting with him. She gave a little shrug with her shoulders.

"My mistake." Harry frowned at her. There were quite a few people at the bar, but half of them were witches, and it wasn't hard to miss that none of them looked like Remus at all.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright? You're acting a little strange . . . . . ." He picked up the bottle and slowly took a sip of his drink, trying to figure out what was up with his best friend.

"I'm fine, I'm fine . . ." She gave him a reassuring smile. He wasn't convinced, but he let it go. Right now, he just wanted to sit back and make the best of his evening off. They started talking about the Daily Prophet's reports on suspicion of "blood doping" amongst the Quidditch players, apparently Ludo Bagman, current owner of the Wisborn Wasps, had been supplying his players with muggle performance-enhancing drugs since the start of the season. It was a rumor amongst the Quidditch teams at first, but then one of the Wisborn players confessed and the team was now under investigation by the Department of Magical Games and Sports. It had been headline news for a few days now.

But Harry knew Hermione was never keen on detailed discussions about Quidditch, so he was about to ask her how her research in the Department of Mysteries was going, when he started to feel a little tingling in his hand. To his surprise, he looked down and saw that his hands were trembling quite badly, and they were starting to feel a little numb. He frowned and put his empty bottle down on the table. He clenched his fingers a few times, he tried rubbing his hands together to get some feeling back into them, but it wasn't helping. He realized that his arms were now beginning to feel oddly numb as well, like he was back outside in the cold again. He started running his hands up and down his arms, trying to warm them up, but it was only getting worse. The numbness was spreading down to his legs.

"Harry, are you feeling alright? You look a little ill . . . ." She reached out and touched his forehead, looking at him worriedly.

"Sorry Hermione, but I . . . . I think I'm gonna go and see the medi-witch. I might have caught a virus or something . . ." He tried to get up but his legs felt like jelly, and he stumbled a little as he made his way towards the front door. Hermione grabbed her bag and was instantly by his side, putting an arm round his waist and guiding him through the tables. A couple of old witches in the corner were shaking their heads, obviously thinking he had too much to drink, but the people Harry walked by saw that his face was pale as a ghost and sweat was beginning to form on his forehead. They started looking at him strangely, but before any of them could ask any questions or offer their help, they were opening the front door and walking outside into the cold. Eventually most of them put it down to too much drinking; it wasn't uncommon to see a quidditch player staggering out of the pub, whether it was after a spectacular victory or a shameful defeat. They went back to their drinks and thought nothing of it. Outside, Harry and Hermione turned right and started to head towards the training grounds.

"Hermione . . . . ." Harry's mouth was dry. His jaw felt stiff. In fact, he was finding it hard to speak. It was only after a few more steps that his legs gave way and he fell onto the cold cobbled pavement.

"Harry, what's the matter? Are you OK? Shall I go and get some help?" Hermione knelt beside him and rolled him over to his side, looking at him only with mild concern. Harry however, was panicking now. His whole body was growing weak, swiftly and astonishingly weak, and he tried to push himself up off the ground into a sitting position, but he couldn't move his limbs, he couldn't even move his head.

Something was very very wrong.

"Harry can you hear me? Do you feel paralyzed?" Harry looked at her. How did she know? That was exactly how he felt. And somehow, she didn't sound worried. She sounded detached, clinical, almost as if she were expecting this to happen. He looked on in confusion as he watched Hermione look up and down the street, then grab both his wrists and drag him into the dark alleyway a few feet away. Once they were in the dark, Hermione knelt down beside him and checked his pulse. She kept looking at her watch while she held his wrist, and then a few moments later she looked down into his face.

"The potion's kicked in a little early, but that doesn't matter. Soon you won't even be able to move your eyes." She was right. He could only stare straight ahead at her shoes and her voice started to sound distant. What the hell is she doing? Out of the corner of his eye, she saw Hermione reach into her bag and bring out something metallic. It looked like an empty can, but he wasn't sure. She then grabbed his hand and wrapped his fingers around the cold metal, struggling a little to move his stiff joints. Once she made sure he had a good hold on it, she pulled out her wand and tapped it three times. She whispered some kind of incantation, and he could just about see a faint orange glow coming from his hand. She then looked at Harry and smirked at him.

"You were so easy . . ." She raised her index finger to her lips and kissed it, then reached down and tapped his nose with it.

"I'll see you later honey . . ." And winked at him as he felt the familiar tug behind his naval, transporting him to another place.




As he was already lying on the floor, he just felt his body thump onto the ground as the portkey rolled out of his hand. Lying on his back, he was only able to stare up at the dark ceiling, wondering where the hell Hermione had taken him. He could see that he was in some kind of dark cell, a wooden table stood in the corner, and a few chains hung from the wall on the right of him. He started to sweat. Minutes passed as the panic and confusion started to escalate. Where was he? Azkaban? One of the Ministry cells in the Auror Department? What did Hermione do to him? Why was she acting so strange? He didn't have a clue. Only when he heard the creaking of a door, was he about to get an idea as to where he was.

Two footsteps walked into the room and stopped beside him. Harry's eyes looked up in terror as he recognized the two men looking down at him.

Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange.

That familiar drawl echoed off the walls.

"Well, well . . . Hermione managed to deliver you to us . . ." They looked at him with distaste as they reached down and picked him up by his arms, dragging him across the dirty floor towards the wall with all the chains. Harry's eyes widened when he saw the multiple chains all hanging there, all kinds of hooks and rings attached to them, waiting to be used for whatever purpose, he did not want to know. They each pulled him up by the wrists until he was standing on his feet; turned him around so that his back was against all the chains, and then fished out two of them which had shackles attached to the ends. Rodolphus gave him an ugly smile as he snapped them shut, and once they checked that both locks were in place, Lucius pulled another chain and then all of a sudden they became taught, pulling his arms out to the sides and pinning him to the wall behind him. He made sure the holding chain was locked in place, and then pulled on a few of the others to check that none of them would come loose. They both stepped back and looked at Harry.

"Now what?" Rodolphus asked rather stupidly. Lucius closed his eyes and sighed, trying hard to be patient with this incompetent Death Eater.

"Now, Rodolphus, we let her do the rest of the work. Apparently the dark lord wants her and only her to torture him." He said this with a little bitterness in his voice, obviously marred at being left out of the loop.

"Did he mention this to you?" Rodolphus asked as they walked back to the door,

"No, according to her, it was a direct order from him. We kidnap Potter using the mudblood, wait for her to come back, she does what she does best, and then we leave him at the entrance to St Mungo's where he'll spend the rest of his life with the Longbottoms." He turned his head around and looked at Harry when he said this, the hatred clearly visible in those steely gray eyes. Rodolphus knew how much Lucius loathed Harry Potter, and right now he looked like he was about a breath away from uttering the killing curse at their prisoner. But Harry wasn't looking their way, he was staring at the floor trying to figure out what the hell was going on. He was totally confused by what he was hearing. Hermione helped them kidnap him? And now she was going to torture him?

He then realized that she must have been under the Imperius all this time, which would explain the odd behaviour at the Three Broomsticks earlier. And now they were going to make her torture him. He closed his eyes and finally gave in to the potion, falling a sleep almost instantly. His last thoughts were on a familiar pair of big, brown eyes, looking at him as if he were a stranger as a Crucio spell hit him in the chest.





Harry stirred from his deep sleep when he heard the faint sound of a door creaking; he blinked a few times as his mind slowly cleared, he was still feeling a little groggy, and he was having trouble focusing. He tried to rub his eyes with his hand when he felt something restricting his arm. He slowly lifted his head and saw that his wrist was shackled; he looked over to his other side and saw the same thing. He tried to tug on them but the chains held him in place, they were so tight that he could barely pull them an inch away from the wall.

"I see you have woken up." Harry's head snapped up when he recognized the voice, that voice that plagued his nightmare's since his fifth year, that sickening cackle that filled his head as he watched his godfather fall through the veil over and over again. Harry clenched his jaw as he looked into those dark lifeless eyes; his wrists were starting to hurt from struggling against the chains so much, but all his focus was on the witch before him. Bellatrix Lestrange was standing in the doorway, smiling back at him.

She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, he watched her as she slowly made her way over to the table and put something down on it. It looked like a coil of thin black rope, but he couldn't tell, the only light came from the single torch attached to the wall next to the door. She turned around and approached him; she looked him up and down, as if sizing him up for something. Harry was yet to say a word to her, but he was too angry to speak, he just wanted to rip free from the chains, grab his wand and send every painful spell he knew at her. There was a faint smirk on her face as she spoke.

"So how have you been Harry? It's been a while now hasn't it?" Harry spat on her robes as he growled at her.

"F you Lestrange." She looked down at her robes and then back up at him, that same infuriating smirk playing across her luscious lips.

"Come on now Harry, have some manners. Are you not enjoying our hospitality? Is room service not up to your standards?" She quickly cast a scourgify spell on her robes and then took another step towards him. She reached out and trailed a finger across his jaw.

"I suppose your wondering why you're here. Or mayb . . ."

"I know why I'm here." He said, jerking his head away from her hand.

"It doesn't take a fing genius to figure out why Voldemort's slaves have captured me." Bellatrix's eyes suddenly turned dark as she leaned into him, her face inches away from his. He could smell her perfume.

"Don't you dare say his name, Potter . . . . Don't you dare . . . ." Her voice was no higher than a whisper, but it was a threat all the same. Harry didn't know what she was going to do to him, but right now he couldn't care less.

"I'll say his name as much as I like. Where is old Snake eyes anyway? Still licking his wounds after all these years?" Bellatrix's venomous stare faded, and slowly turned into a smile as she started to reach out to touch his face again.

"For you information, my master is doing just fine. In fact . . ."

"So he gets you to do his dirty work does he? What, is he too ashamed to show himself after that f-up he made at the ministry five years ago?" He jerked away from her out-stretched arm and spat on her robes again. Bellatrix didn't even look down this time, she just leaned closer and whispered to him.

"What makes you think this was on the dark lord's orders?" Her smile turned into that annoying smirk again when she saw Harry staring back at her, puzzled by what she just said.

"What the hell are you talking about? I just heard Malfoy say it was on Voldemort's orders to kidnap me using . . . ." He closed his eyes and lowered his head as he thought about his best friend. Hermione. They were controlling her, and he realized that they must have her too, somewhere in this building. He tried to calm himself down as he looked back up to her.

"Look Lestrange, leave Hermione out of this. It's me you're after, you've got me. Let her go." Bellatrix was still smiling at him, she had scourgified her robes while he was talking and she was now untying the string around her neck, letting the black robes fall to the sides.

"Oh I'm sure your little mudblood friend is safe and sound. My acting was rather good though wasn't it? I have to say your friend has quite the body. I actually took a sneak peek "at myself" in the bathrooms when I was waiting for you." She winked at him as she turned around and slid her robes off her shoulders. Harry took a few moments to take in what she was saying. Acting?

"You . . . . you mean . . . that was you in the Three Broomsticks? You polyjuiced Hermione?" Bellatrix just looked over her shoulder and smiled at him.

Harry sagged with relief. His friend was alright. So it was Bellatrix Lestrange who Malfoy was talking about when they said "she" was going to torture him . . . . . . Torture him. All of a sudden Harry was feeling uneasy as he remembered why he was there. She was going to send him packing to the permanent spell damage residence in St. Mungo's, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He had trained Occlumency for years now, but he didn't know how long he could hold off a Crucio spell, it was hardly something you could practice with your friends. It was only a matter of time before she broke his mind.

Bella was now folding up her robes and placing it on the table in the corner. She was wearing an inner robe that was also black, but this one was a lot tighter and they hugged her curves quite nicely. Harry grudgingly admitted that she had a very nice figure. He watched her as she turned around and slowly walked up to him, head cocked to the side as if thinking about something, debating something with herself. Harry assumed she was just wondering which array of spells to use while she tortured him; she was probably one of those people who liked to take their time.

"So, like I said, I suppose your wondering why you're here . . . ." Bella was now standing inches away, and Harry suddenly found himself a little saddened that someone as beautiful as her could be so ugly and hideous inside.

"To send me to the nut house?" Why did she keep asking him that anyway? It was clear as crystal on what her intentions were. Bella ran her fingers through his hair as she chuckled.

"No, that was what I told Lucius and my fool of a husband. . . . ." She took a moment to look at him, look into those deep, emerald eyes.

"You see . . . . . . . I couldn't help noticing that you've become quite the handsome young man Harry . . . . ." She paused and looked down at his body.

"and . . . . well . . . . ." her hand was now slowly traveling down his chest, down his stomach. She lifted her head up.

"I just thought I might have a taste of the great boy-who-lived myself." Harry didn't like the look in her eyes when she said this. A taste? A taste of what exactly . . . ?

"So . . . . um . . . . . you're . . . . . . . you're not . . . . going to torture me . . . ?"

"Figuratively speaking, no."

"Wha . . . . What are you going t . . . ." Harry got his answer when she reached out and grabbed his manhood. He gasped in shock as she squeezed him hard with her hand. Harry's body tensed. He now had a vague idea of what she was planning on doing to him. Her smile widened when she felt the size of him.

"Oh my . . . . . . haven't we grown up?" She began to massage him with her fingers, stroking him through the thin fabric of his trousers. He closed his eyes and tried his best to fight it, but it was no use. He felt himself grow hard under her touch, and he hated it. He hated the fact that he was reacting to her, he hated the fact that he could be manipulated so easily, and he hated the fact that the whole situation was actually arousing him. The b that killed his godfather was touching him, fondling him while he was chained to the wall, and at the same time, he felt his fury simmering inside of him.

"Get the hell away from me." Harry's eyes were burning with rage, almost glowing in the dark of the dirty cell. Bellatrix looked up and hesitated for a moment, the intensity in his eyes were so entrancing, the green of his iris sparkling with emotion as he glared back at her. This was why she was so attracted to this man. His eyes, you could see the emotion swirling around in them, gleaming in the dark, you could feel the magic pouring out of him with his fury, this strong, powerful wizard, feared by quite a few, was in her control, and she loved it.

"Or what Harry? You going to spank me? I'd let you, you know . . . . . ." She was slowly unzipping his fly with her fingers, watching him struggle against the chains as she reached into his trousers, she could see the conflict of emotions in his eyes. It was obvious he did not want this, but she knew a small part of him also found this exciting. She weaved her hand into his boxers and then pulled out his throbbing manhood, her eyes widened as she admired him, the boy-who-lived was certainly well endorsed. She felt herself become moist as she tugged her hand up and down his shaft, she was going to enjoy this, her husband was nothing compared to this young man.

Harry continued to struggle against the chains, but Bellatrix started to see his resolve dissolving as she continued to stroke him, she ran her fingers around the tip of his manhood where it was the most sensitive, wrapped her fingers around him as she pulled on him back and forth. She felt so powerful. So in control. The fact that he didn't want this at first, told her to get away from him when she started to touch him, and now, now he was gently pushing his hips into her hand as she tugged on him a little faster. Harry's breathing was becoming ragged.

"Stop it." He growled,

"St . . stop it . . . . ." His eyes were closed now, and his mouth was hanging open slightly as he slowly started to give in to the pleasure. Bellatrix smiled to herself. His voice was weak, that anger she felt before was slowly retreating and he was now moving his hips ever so gently, in time with her hand. She leaned into him until her mouth was inches away from his ear.

"Shhhh . . . . . . . It's OK, Harry. It feels nice doesn't it? My soft . . . gentle . . hand . . . . You like it don't you?" Harry was no longer struggling with the chains. He was now struggling with his inner turmoil, he wanted this to end, he was being sexually harassed, he felt violated, dirty, and he wanted her to stop, but somewhere inside of him, somewhere, there was another Harry saying, "Oh god, don't stop . . . . Keep going . . . . Keep going . . ." and he didn't know what to do. His mind was going into overdrive when all of a sudden the pleasuring sensation was gone. He opened his eyes and saw that Bellatrix had stepped away, a seductive smile on her beautiful features as she started to untie her inner robes.

"I want you to watch me Harry . . . . ." Harry didn't know what she meant, so he just continued to stare at her as the silky fabric slid off her bare shoulders and onto the floor. Her large round breasts, her shapely hips, and her slender legs, she was completely naked apart from her thigh length stockings, and Harry was amazed at how beautiful her body was. She was breath taking. He wanted to stare at her, admire every curve of her body, but as soon as she let the robes fall, she picked them up and carried them to the desk, and then brought the wooden chair, which sat next to the table, back towards him. She placed the chair a couple of feet in front of him and then sat down on it.

"I want you to watch . . . ." And then she spread her legs wide open before him. She was completely smooth down there, and Harry could see faint traces of her juices glistening in the light. She reached out her hand and wandlessly summoned something out of her robes. Harry's mouth hung open as the object floated into her hand; it was long, smooth, and shaped like . . . . . . . . . Harry gulped.

Bellatrix looked up into Harry's eyes as she lowered it down between her legs; the other hand was parting her wet lips . . . .



to be continued . . .




I'm really sorry for the long intro, it was meant to be short, (honest!) and then I was going to go straight into the scene with Harry in the cell, but I kind of got into the plot line, you know? Sorry.



Anyway, I promise for the next chapter to have A LOT more action.



I'm planning on writing the Harry/Hermione story, and maybe do another Harry/Tonks story, this time in her apartment. (With a lot more positions) But don't expect them too soon.