AN: It's September first, and I wanted to write a story about the return to Hogwarts. (Edit: Clearly, it is no longer the first. This turned out to be a lot longer than I expected, and midnight came and went when I was just starting the smut) This idea came to me around three in the morning, and while it does take place on September first, it turned much darker than I had originally planned. At least it's Bellamione; I was originally going to do something light and fluffy with the trio goofing off on the train. Also, I've noticed that Rowling isn't terribly consistent with her spelling of pure-blood/Pureblood/pureblood and half-blood/Half-Blood throughout the series, which makes it rather irritating trying to remember which one to use. At least Mudblood is always one capitalized word. But I digress. Read, review, repeat.

- Ophelia

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I am not JK Rowling. Therefore, I do not own Harry Potter. Fanfiction etiquette: real simple stuff.

September 1st, 1997

Not for the first time that day, Bellatrix heaved an exasperated sigh, muffled by the mask over her face. "There are far too many tasks that the Dark Lord needs done for me to stand here all day. If my time is wasted for nothing..." she grumbled, loudly enough to carry across the square of Grimmauld Place. Her companions, similarly masked and cloaked, exchanged wary glances but remained silent. The Death Eater knew that they were not chosen for such a mundane task on account of their intelligence, yet they were not nearly so foolish as to tell her to keep her voice down.

The six watchmen waited outside in the square, squirming uncomfortably in their long black robes under the late summer sun. Bellatrix's hand leapt towards her wand at each passing Muggle, blithely chattering and ignoring the now-familiar cloaked figures, only to force herself to reluctantly leave them be. Today was the day that the Hogwarts students would make their way to London to begin the new school year, and the Dark Lord predicted that Potter and his companions would make a scene at King's Cross to protest his appointment of Snape as Headmaster. He had chosen Bellatrix to join the watch on this day, perhaps in hopes that her Black blood would grant her access to her aunt and uncle's former home, although as usual He kept His reasons to Himself. Little as she wanted to stand outside and watch for signs of activity from number twelve, she knew well not to press the Dark Lord for an explanation of why she had been delegated such a mundane task. Perhaps He is expecting a fight, she thought. He knows that He can rely on me, He knows that I can bring Him the boy. I am His most faithful. The very thought made the Death Eater swell with pride, and behind the mask a smug smile curled across her face.

Hours passed with no sign of the wretched children, and boredom settled in among the waiting watchmen. Ordered not to speak with each other, they amused themselves kicking pebbles around and drumming their fingers against the rusty railing that they leaned upon. After a while, one of the men discovered that the railing would creak when pushed a certain way, and they began to push it rhythmically to form a garbled tune. After hearing them creaking and drumming out a rendition of the new single by The Hobgoblins, Bellatrix was sick of their childish amusements. With a disdainful glare - which went unnoticed, hidden behind her mask - she swept across the unkempt square and stood before the joining of numbers eleven and thirteen. Her Uncle Orion had carefully placed spells of concealment around the house, as had his father, and his father, on and on for generations. She snorted in amusement as she considered the lengths to which they had gone to protect the building, from what threat she did not know. A man's home is his castle, but the Black family would prefer a fortress.

Of course, such dedication to security made the place an ideal headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, and the Death Eater scowled at the thought of her cousin putting the Black home to such use. Snape had reported that Albus Dumbledore had added to its already considerable protection, perverting the original intention behind such spells. It was blasphemy, really, and to make matters worse, the blood traitor had then had given the property to the half-blood Potter boy without a care for its noble pure-blood history. It should have been mine, Bellatrix thought angrily. Her childhood visits to the place had never been particularly enjoyable, but she certainly would not have turned down a chance to return to the house of her family, far better than that of the Lestranges. Her lip curled at the very thought. I'm more of a Black than Sirius ever was. I'm older. Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I shouldn't have my own property. She reached out and touched the wall, running her long nails across the pitted surface of the bricks. The scratching sound was unpleasant, but still preferable to the racket that the men behind her were still making.

Frustration welled up in her as she stood outside of the house that traditionally ought to belong to her, yet legally did not. "It should be me in there. I'm the oldest Black left," she growled, clenching her hand into a fist. She stepped back in alarm as a great rumbling began from behind the wall. To her great surprise and delight, number twelve suddenly began to emerge between it's Muggle neighbors, as if it agreed with her. Bellatrix glanced back at her companions, who had finally stopped creaking and stared back at her as if in a stupor. There were a number of metallic clicks that split the silence, then the door swung open. She laughed gleefully, then bounded up the stairs and dashed through the open door.

The door shut behind her automatically as she crossed the threshold, a quiet rumbling behind her announcing the concealment of the house once again, and the gas lamps on the wall quietly ignited, as if to welcome her home. The Dark witch grinned at the familiar sight, then pulled out her wand made to hurry into the hallway. A single step in, she heard a deep voice growl "Severus Snape?" She laughed derisively, wondering if the Order really expected to be able to stop him from entering the house. No sooner than she thought that, she felt her tongue curl in on itself, a most unpleasant feeling. It was over in a few seconds, but left her continuing more cautiously down the hall. After a moment of thought, Bellatrix cast a Disillusionment charm on herself, in case one of the spells triggered an alarm to warn the children of her presence. A few more steps in, the dust that lay thickly in the carpet began to swirl together, and she stopped, raising her wand. The dust formed a figure, which she recognized as Dumbledore; his corpse, to be exact. It rushed towards her and she smirked at it. "What are you mad at me for, Dumbledore? I didn't kill-" The figure exploded at the word, filling the air with dust and causing the Death Eater to cough worse than she had after her tongue unrolled. Holding her breath, she passed through the dust cloud and out of the hallway with no more traps.

It had been many years since Bellatrix had been in this house, yet she noticed at once that there were many ancient relics missing. Pictures were missing from the walls, and marble stands looked forlorn without the busts and statues that were once displayed atop them. She passed a glass-fronted cabinet and was horrified to see that it was empty, generations of family treasures cleared out. She did not know if the items were stolen or disposed of, but either way, somebody would pay for desecrating the House of Black. She crept through the ornate rooms, pleased to see them clean and shining as if no time had passed at all. The Dark witch made her way to the stairs and placed one foot tentatively on the bottom step, moving away quickly when it creaked loudly. She was invisible but not silent, and she knew that it would be better to stay unnoticed as long as possible.

She crept into the next room, her footfalls silenced by the cushioning carpet, listening carefully. The children did not know that a Death Eater had entered their sanctuary, and as such had no reason to keep their voices down. A conversation drifted towards her from the kitchen, a boy and a girl talking and laughing. The girl had to be the Granger Mudblood, but the boy... Her heart leapt in her chest, excitement burning through her. It could be Potter in there, there was a very good chance of it. She would capture him and call the Dark Lord, and He would kill the boy and England would fall at His feet. He would take the country for Himself and cleanse the Wizarding world, with her as His Queen, so very proud to serve Him. Bellatrix shivered with anticipation, knowing that her reward for bringing Him Potter would be incredible, that she would be His very favorite and dearest servant, and He would be left in no doubt of her great devotion.

A broad smile on her face, her heart pounding, she stepped carefully across the room and made her way to the kitchen. The door was ajar, and it was easy enough for her to peer inside at the chatting teenagers within. There was the Mudblood, sitting in her house as if she owned it, and the boy she had been talking with. The ginger boy. The boy who was not Harry Potter. Her jaw dropped, unseen by the pair, concealed as it was by both the mask and the Disillusionment charm. Also unseen was her arm as it pointed into the room, although her wand appeared to be floating in midair. The Weasley boy seemed to see it, staring towards the door and beginning to rise from his chair, but he was not fast enough to escape Bellatrix's sudden and complete rage.

"CRUCIO!" she shrieked, and the spell blasted into the boy who was not Potter, whose voice had so raised her hopes only to dash them immediately after. She saw red, her fury overtaking any sense of secrecy, and whatever small shred of mercy she may have shown otherwise. Weasley fell to the floor, writhing and screaming uncontrollably, but such was Bellatrix's rage that not even his agony could quell it. The Mudblood had drawn her wand as well and was crouching over the boy, as if there was a way to help him. Her efforts were fruitless, for he was at the Death Eater's mercy, and she fully intended to show none. His flailing limbs struck the floor with increasing force as she held the spell, until there sounded a loud crack as his head flopped onto the stone, and he was still. Bellatrix's fury was then tainted with annoyance that her victim had managed to knock himself out so quickly, and she ended the curse.

The Mudblood rounded on her, pointing her wand towards the doorway as though expecting that she was powerful enough to hold her own in a fight. "Show yourself, or are you too frightened?" she demanded furiously. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes; one person in that room ought to have been frightened and it was not her. But she removed the Disillusionment charm, then tore off her mask as well. To her great amusement, the color drained from the girl's face and she stumbled backwards in an attempt to distance herself from the Death Eater. "You," she hissed, simultaneously angry and frightened.

Bellatrix laughed, surveying the girl, whose fear was entertaining enough to begin to cool her rage. She did not doubt that the Mudblood wanted to fight her, but it was reported that she was exceptionally bright, and was smart enough to know that she would quickly lose. The Dark witch advanced on the girl, closing the door behind her to block any exits. It would be easy enough to Stun her, but where was the fun in that? In any case, she needed the girl awake for questioning. Potter was not here, but if anyone knew where he was it would be one of his two companions.

"So tell me, girl, what brings you to my home?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain cheerful despite her rebuilding anger. The younger witch's eyes flashed.

"It's not your home. Sirius gave it to Harry," she spat. Bellatrix shook her head. Was this her idea of going on the offensive? It was weak, and so was she. The Death Eater could practically feel the fear rolling off of the girl, who seemed to think she could talk her way out of this.

"If it's Potter's house, then why did it let me in?" she countered. "All I did was tell it that I was the eldest Black and the door opened right up."

The Mudblood's jaw dropped, but before she could reply, there came a shout from the hallway. Bellatrix made to turn towards the door, desperate hope filling her again as she prayed for it to be Potter, but then she heard the voice. "Hello? It's Remus again, where are you?"

The Mudblood's face lit up, certain that her savior had just arrived. "Remus," she called. "Hurry, come-" The rest of her sentence was muffled, for Bellatrix had covered her mouth with her hand and jabbed her wand into her neck.

"I think not, filth," she snarled. She wrapped an arm tightly around the girl and, before she could react, twisted in place and Disapparated. She intended to land outside of the Lestrange estate, but instead found herself indoors, unable to recognize the room in the darkness that they arrived in. More importantly, both witches became immediately aware of a dreadful odor permeating the air, one that neither of them could place. Bellatrix threw the girl away from her, gagging.

The older witch cast her gaze around the darkened room, trying to locate the source of the stench. It took only a moment until... "Ah, yes, that's it. My dear husband is still here, he hasn't left in a terribly long time. Doesn't get out much, the poor thing," she crooned. A flash of light split the darkness, and a cruel laugh tore itself from the Death Eater's throat as the Mudblood let out a gasp of horror at what the light revealed. Sprawled in pieces across the dusty carpet were the rotting remains of Rodolphus Lestrange. Dried blood was caked into the fibers of the - no doubt antique and expensive - rug, a black crust that had spread around him like a gory halo. Hair clung to the sagging skull in dry chunks, several clumps having already fallen. Bellatrix strode over to the stinking corpse and kicked it onto its back, much to the displeasure of the maggots writhing beneath the papery, translucent skin. Flesh dropped off the body in withered chunks as it was disturbed, further strengthening the already pungent odor.

"He looks so much better now than he ever has," she commented, holding her nose delicately and peering down to examine the twisted face. She turned back to face the terrified prisoner, her expression resembling that of a child finding a piece of candy that they had forgotten about. She looked simply radiant, yet her eyes shone with malice. "He broke out of Azkaban again and of course came home to me at once, but he's terribly clumsy. He ran at me, I presume because he was so happy to see me again, but then he ran into my knife." She watched with delight as the girl's eyes widened with horror as she looked at the corpse, taking in the numerous stab wounds to the man's stomach and chest.

"Well, good thing I'm not running around," she said with feeble bravado, her voice trembling. She cringed as Bellatrix laughed again and strode towards her, bearing down upon her new victim. She reached a thin pale hand to her, grasping the girl's long hair and pulling it back, forcing her to look up.

"No, I'm not letting you run around," she hissed, leaning in close. "You could just run right out the door, and we can't have that. Not until you tell me where Harry Potter is."

The Mudblood squirmed under her grasp, looking positively terrified. Some Gryffindor, the Dark witch thought, mildly annoyed. She preferred when her victims put up at least some fight. "Please, let me go," she begged. "I don't know where Harry is, he left me and Ron one day and he hasn't come back. We thought you lot had found him..." She managed a sob, whether it was real or an addition to her story of Potter abandoning her, Bellatrix could not tell. In any case, it was irrelevant, for the lie in the girl's eyes was as plain as day. Her emotional control was abysmal; she would have been destroyed by her peers had she been a Slytherin.

"You lie, Mudblood," the older witch snarled, yanking on the fistful of hair and causing the prisoner to cry out. Bellatrix reached into a pocket and withdrew a knife, holding it so that the girl could see it. There were traces of blood crusted onto the blade, and Bellatrix watched her eyes dart from the knife to the rotting body on the floor. She smirked, pleased that the connection had been so quickly made. "I suggest you begin telling the truth now, and be quick about it. Where is Potter? What are you all doing?"

The Mudblood's lower lip quivered, but she shook her head firmly. There was a flash of silver, and the younger witch screamed as a deep gash was made across her cheek. "No!" she cried, and a matching cut was made on the other side. Blood dripped down her face, but she shook her head again. "Torture me all you want, I won't tell you anything," she said, her voice shaking despite what seemed to be her best efforts. Bellatrix grinned, which served only to frighten the girl even more. She didn't need an invitation to hurt someone, but it was still nice to receive one.

"Well, I was going to let you leave," she lied, "but if you'd really rather I tortured you instead..." She watched carefully as the girl's carefully built fa├žade crumbled. That was always her favorite part; watching her victims break, and this step marked the beginning. Desperation and fear crept into the Mudblood's eyes, which had shone in defiance until she put her foot in her mouth.

"No! Please! Let me go, just let me go! I don't know where he is!" she insisted, looking around the room wildly as if on hopes of finding an exit. Bellatrix saw her gaze lock onto the door across the room, and an idea came to her. She was far better at concealing her emotions than the prisoner, however, and managed to keep her grin to herself. She released the Gryffindor's hair, instead placing her hand lightly on her wrist, as of counting on her fear to immobilize her.

No sooner than she released her grip, the Mudblood took off running, as Bellatrix knew she would. She followed leisurely, through the door and into the darkened hallway, then into the room at the very end, where the prisoner had rushed into. She heard a cry of alarm and allowed her suppressed grin to spread across her face as she followed her in. With a wave of her wand, the fireplace sprang to life, illuminating her old bedroom. The Mudblood's bid for freedom had merely pushed her into a dead end, and far away from the exit. All the same, it was quite an improvement to get away from the sickening odor of her husband's body, not that the bedroom smelled particularly nice after the long years of disuse.

Looking defeated and frightened, the younger witch carefully sat on the edge of the bed, clouds of dust lifting off the mattress as she disturbed it for the first time in well over a decade. The only time Bellatrix had bothered to visit the house after her escape was when her husband returned from Azkaban early in the summer, knowing that he would head there first. She had intercepted him as planned and killed him, leaving his rotting body in the rotting house and finally ending her rotten marriage. She shook her head, dragging herself out of her reverie to bring herself back to the situation at hand. The gazed at the younger witch, who seemed to have calmed herself somewhat while Bellatrix was busy contemplating what had once been. At the very least, she sat up straight and stopped trembling. The Death Eater was enraged that she had allowed herself to be so easily distracted by a bit of dust.

"Listen up, Mudblood. There's nowhere else to run, but I'll let you go if you just answer my questions," she snapped. The girl glared at her.

"I won't answer them," she said, her voice carefully flat and emotionless. It was good to see that she stopped outright lying, but she had a ways to go before Bellatrix was satisfied. She flicked her wand, and chains appeared from the bedposts and wrapped themselves around the Mudblood's wrists and ankles, forcing her down on the bed, spread-eagle and vulnerable.

Bellatrix strode over to the bed, peering down at the bound body. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, girl. Your call" she told her. She enjoyed offering a choice to her stubborn prisoner, eagerly anticipating the moment that the stupid girl realized that neither option was a good one and felt trapped again despite the choices.

The Gryffindor gritted her teeth. "The easy way, of course," she said. The Death Eater smiled.

"Very well. The easy way is indeed quite easy, as I'm sure a smart little Mudblood such as yourself has already worked out. Just tell me where Potter is and you can go." She was rewarded by the girl spitting into her face. She jerked her head back with a snarl, wiping herself clean on her sleeve. She then reached towards the girl and punched her with all her strength. The Mudblood cried out at the impact, blood now pouring from her nose as well as from her cuts. "So you want the hard way, then."

Bellatrix knew that there were many ways to break someone, and that sometimes humiliation was better than pain alone. She looked thoughtfully at the young body bound to her bed, innocent and helpless. She smiled. Oh yes, humiliation was the way to go with this one.

With a wave of her wand, the girl was naked. She cried out in surprise, tugging fruitlessly against her chains in an attempt to cover herself up. The Death Eater laughed, reaching out to stroke down her torso. "What's wrong? I thought you wanted that. You're in my bed, after all, what did you expect would happen?" Her hand wandered further down, inching towards her core. Bellatrix could have taken her time breaking the girl, but she was running low on patience and knew that moving far too quickly would be every bit as effective.

The younger witch's eyes widened in terror; whatever horrors she was bracing herself for, this was not one of them. "N-no, please, don't do this. I don't know where Harry is, I already told-" Her words were cut off in a scream as Bellatrix thrust a finger into her, her sharp nail tearing through her innocence.

"I told you to stop lying to me," she said firmly, holding her finger still within the girl.

Tears filled the young Gryffindor's eyes. She squirmed desperately, but the chains held fast. "Stop, please stop. Get away from me," she begged. Bellatrix shook her head.

"Too late for that, you chose the hard way and this is it. If you do as I say, I can at least make this feel good for you, or I can make it hurt."

"It already hurts!" she cried, the tears now pouring over her cheeks. The Death Eater rolled her eyes.

"Of course it does, that's the point. Tell me where Potter is." To emphasize her question, she forced in another finger, keeping them both still. The blood of the girl's torn hymen helped her slide it in, but aside from that she was dry as a bone.

"He's somewhere in London," the Mudblood relented, tugging at her bonds helplessly to get away from Bellatrix and her intrusions.

She smirked. She had never been reduced to stealing someone's virginity to get answers, but she had to admit that it was effective, and surprisingly easy. "That's a start," she crooned, waving her wand. The girl gasped as a basic pleasure charm washed over her, the best friend of many an unsatisfied pure-blood housewife. Bellatrix felt her fingers coat in sudden arousal and began to move them slowly out of the girl and then back in, causing her hips to strain unwillingly towards her. "Where in London?"

The younger witch shook her head, and the Death Eater ended the spell. She cried out weakly at the loss, and quickly added, "He has the Invisibility Cloak. You can't find him."

"I'll be the judge of that," the older witch told her. She leaned in over the tender young breasts and flicked her tongue over a pink peak. The girl shivered, and she sucked it into her mouth, suckling and licking gently. The pleasure charm was still gone, but Bellatrix could feel the girl growing aroused in spite of herself. She pulled away to speak, massaging the perked nipple with her fingers instead. "Where in London?" she repeated.

The Mudblood seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, but teenage hormones won out and she blurted, "Ministry." A moan pulled itself from her throat as the pleasure spell was replaced. Bellatrix moved her fingers inside the girl again, quietly enjoying the feeling of the muscles clenching around them.

"He's in the Ministry?" she breathed, watching the girl carefully. A desperate pause, then she shook her head.

"Not in," she gasped. Her hips rocked towards her captor seemingly on their own, and Bellatrix allowed her thumb to graze across the little bundle of nerves. She moaned again, louder and throatier than before.

"So he's outside the Ministry in his Invisibility Cloak?" the Dark witch confirmed. The Gryffindor nodded and was rewarded with a third finger, which now slid easily in. For a few moments, the room was silent aside from the crackling of the fire, the heavy breathing and moaning of the prisoner, and the slight squishing of Bellatrix's fingers moving in and out of the girl's wet center. The moans grew louder and more urgent as Bellatrix pumped into her and rubbed her clit, until she realized that the girl might climax. She ceased all movement, drawing an anguished cry from the unsatisfied witch. "You can come if you tell me why Potter is lurking outside the Ministry," she said sternly.

The Mudblood tried to writhe closer to the Death Eater, but was restrained by the chains thar had previously kept her from moving away. Bellatrix frowned at her, then bent down over her breasts again. The younger witch seemed pleased as she felt her tongue on them again... until she bit down hard. A cry wrenched itself from her throat, and Bellatrix pulled away, spitting out the filthy Muggle blood in her mouth.

"P-please, you can't just leave me like this," the girl pled. But the Death Eater shook her head, and they stared at each other, unrelenting. "I'll tell you if you make me come," she offered. Bellatrix cracked a smile at that, somehow finding her audacity endearing.

"You're chained to my bed, naked and bleeding and begging me to finish fucking you. You are not in a position to make deals. You are not in a position to do anything but tell me what the bloody hell Potter is doing at the Ministry." Another minute passed, the girl squirming in discomfort. She finally broke, as the Dark witch knew from the beginning she would.

"Mundungus Fletcher stole many relics from your house," she began. Bellatrix was pleased to hear the girl refer to the house as herd, but then swelled with rage, ready to find the thief and tear him limb from limb. But not yet; this matter needed to be settled first. She clenched her jaw and nodded tersely for the Mudblood to continue, her fingers slowly beginning to move again deep within her. "He gave one of them to Dolores Umbridge and we need to get it from her."

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "This item is so important that you're going to break into the Ministry of Magic to get it back?" The girl nodded, and she pressed her thumb down on her clit again. "Why? What is it?"

"It's... a necklace. Kreacher told us that Regulus died stealing it, and that we need to get it back." She let out a moan as the fingers began to move faster again. Bellatrix stated at her in disbelief.

"It may have escaped your notice, but we're in the middle of a war. You three are going into the Ministry just to get a necklace because a House-Elf wants it?" The Mudblood nodded, and she let out a low whistle. "You're supposed to be the smart one, girl. You'll all be dead in a month at this rate." Still, she had received the information she wanted, and now it was time to reward her prisoner. The Death Eater climbed onto the bed, laying between her spread legs. "You've been a good girl," she crooned, grinning up at her before lowering her head to her core. Her fingers thrust within the girl harder and faster than before, and now she took a swipe at her erect clit with her tongue. The younger witch cried out in pleasure and tugged on her chains, and Bellatrix took the bundle of nerves into her mouth and sucked hard on them, finding herself enjoying the salty taste of the girl's arousal.

"Oh fuck, yes..." the young Gryffindor groaned, her hips bucking up into the Death Eater's face. "Don't stop, oh, ohhhh..." She suddenly stilled all movement, and Bellatrix felt her fingers being clenched tightly as the girl finally orgasmed. She pulled her head away as she felt a rush of fluid coat her fingers and chin, then sat up to watch the young witch writhe and scream her name. Several long moments passed until the girl calmed herself, slumped on the bed and breathing heavily.

Bellatrix waved her wand as the Mudblood recovered, the chains disappearing and the banished clothing returning to the foot of the bed. Another minute or so passed until the younger witch sat up and began to shakily dress herself, during which Bellatrix openly admired the quivering body before her. Neither witch spoke. After a moment's thought, she waved her wand again to clear away the blood dried onto the girl's face, but left the wound on her breast as a memento. She doubted that the Mudblood would forget her anytime soon, but wanted to leave her mark nonetheless. It was highly unusual for her to deliver pleasure instead of pain, but it felt... nice, almost. She was pleased that the two of them could come to an agreement of sorts. Finally dressed, the girl sat up and pushed herself away from the bed on shaking legs.

Bellatrix observed her with a blank expression, careful to make this a clean and impersonal break. "Nice doing business with you. Now get out." The girl blinked in surprise, then slowly turned from the Death Eater and walked out, exaggerating the sway of her hips. Her eyes unwillingly drawn to the motion, Bellatrix could not help but wonder if perhaps she had done this the easy way after all.