Title: HP: The Good Side of Black

Pairing: Hermoine / Narcissa
Rating: M, NC17, NSFW
Summary: Harry and Ron are whisked away before they can rescue Hermione and torture does not even begin to describe what happens next. Bellatrix has a Brilliant Plan of sorts, when Harry and Ron are rescued, but Hermione is not. She forces Hermione to drink a polyjuice potion.

Transformed into Sirius, she is delivered to Narcissa, for the purposes of creating a true Black Heir.

Words: This Work is BETA and UNFINISHED

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which pretty well guarantees that " ownership, " of some of the characters belongs to others (J.K. Rowling and company) and that this work is entirely based on affection. This is not-for-profit, but for praise or at least enjoyment.

Beta Readers: Thank yous go to - Melanacious, LadyDragonstorm, Bonnie, shesgottaread, and Blackgrl71 - my extraordinary friends.

A/N - This is a "get 'em together" story/ One Shot.
A/N - This fiction likely draws from several sources for inspiration - it mostly follows Harry Potter movie canon as a starting point, however.
A/N - I hereby label this story AU. While it starts from the movie core, with a dash of book core, and even some youtube fanvid influence, meanwhile, it is set in a reality that is both magical and dangerous and altered by events within the story. *stamp* AU *endstamp*
A/N - This story involves appendages and physical transformations and happy bits connecting. If phallai offend, perhaps this story is not for you. Also, apparently, this is not a "usual" pairing. Thus: *stamp* CRACKFIC *endstamp*
A/N -This story will possibly be darker than I normally go. It involves depictions or at least discussions of torture and other difficult experiences; there's always the hint of "danger" and stories get told and maybe a little blood and sex and giant hints of noncon and who knows what will trigger some people so *stamp* AltSEX *endstamp*
A/N - This story has serious, definite hints of "bad things that happened to good people." This includes violence shading toward noncon *stamp* TRIGGER Warning *endstamp*
A/N - Polyamory? Well, I don't know how this really will play as Poly, per se. However, I'm gonna put the warning in anyhow. Just in case. *stamp* POLY *endstamp*
A/N - This story uses a mystical and magical happenings of the dangerous kind setting, which means that some events are darker and more dangerous and possibly unfriendly. *stamp* MAYHEM! *endstamp*
A/N - This story has big dollops of angst and maybe horror, but it ends well.

LJ Tags: all: fiction, user: bearblue, rating: nc-17, pairing: hermione/narcissa, status: incomplete, genre: romance

Outline-ish thing:

(Note: Hermione is / should be older than Harry and Ron - she has been using the time turner to do extra classes since third year: So -

1st year, she's 11 - 12

2nd year, she's 12 - 13

3rd year, she's 13 - 14:30 (but the birthday is set at 14)

4th year she's 14:30 - 16 (but the birthday is set 15)

5th year she's 16 - 17:30 (but the birthday is set at 16)

6th year she's 17:30 - 19 (but the birthday is set at 17)

7th year she's at 19 (but the birthday is set at 18)

By the time she is captured, she's probably physically around 20, but her birthday reflects 18. She's always been mentally ahead, but has been set back some emotionally by the negativity of the locket.)

- HP -

The subject of the Black inheritance came up again just a few short hours after Potter and the Weasley's escape. Not even quite twenty four hours after, but as the hysteria of their escape was finally vented and Bella had at last moved on, the brighter sister of the two was not prepared to complain. She brought up the topic over the course of days, at breakfast, tea and dinner or when she happened to catch her in the parlor. Not that Narcissa really wanted to talk about it, but as Bella would not shut up about "vermin in the house," when referring to their childhood home, she had no choice, but to listen as her sister ranted, raved. Plotted.

The solution, of course, was essentially easy, as to relieve Potter of that particular inheritance all they had to do was have an heir whose blood proved true. The actual practicalities, however, were a steeper hurdle.

They had discussed the issue previously. Andromeda was out of the question at this point. Technically she had been disinherited, but both women were aware that she had received shares from their mother's side of the family anyhow; even in separation, there had been generosity. Such was their family devotion.

Devotion, however, only carried so far. Narcissa was adamant that she would not touch any other man in such a way save, Lucius. She already had a son through their union. They had managed to escape prison, but not each other, and while Lucius had proved to be a good father, he was less of a husband. Narcissa did not miss that part much anyhow and appearance of caring had much to do with habit and the proper display of formalities. No one expected more than that. Also, as annoyed as she might be with him about his involvement of that tribe of madmen, the Death Eaters, she understood his loyalty to a concept. After all, she had been raised with the belief in the purity of their bloodlines. It was a thread they both held in common, if not in depth.

So, the sisters talked about the need for an heir again, or rather, Bella did most of the talking and Narcissa listened. She was confident that eventually her brunette sister would either tire of the subject, take her wrath out on some poor idiot who got in her way, or she would drop the idea. Narcissa believed the latter to be a more likely scenario, for, as soon as the Dark Lord would summon, Bella would go and that conversation would be over.

At least for a little while. It did, after all, sometimes come back up again.

And now, as at such times, Narcissa listened to another scattered plot concocted by her brilliant, but insane sister.

"In theory, it should work." Bella shrugged.

Narcissa gave the delirious woman a disbelieving jaw-dropped stare. But at the same time, after thinking about it, she really couldn't disagree that the theory might hold, but the practicality was severely lacking and the idea was a touch... incestuous. "But it's just as likely that the bloodline that are passed on will be that other person's. This is..." She did not finish with the obvious end. Bellatrix did not appreciate that particular word or its relatives; especially when said to her by family. The dark woman might love her as a sister, and wouldn't kill her, but she was still capable of waving a wand full of hurt if she was angry.

"No!" Bellatrix all but screamed. Then she immediately calmed. "That's not how it works. Our … donor... would embody Sirius, therefore will breed as Sirius. He is... was... our nearest male relative and the bloodline would be supported thus. But either way, we will have an heir that isn't named Potter." Bellatrix spat the name out with venom. "It will have to be you as I can't very well do it. I'm infertile. You, my dear Cissy are our only hope."

"I am a married woman!"

"As if that mattered when it comes to such things. Certainly the building of a bloodline in the past has often crossed the marriage lines. We wouldn't be the first. And Lucius has technically done his part; for his bloodline, but what about ours? The name Black must continue. We would simply make it a clause in the future marriage contract, should the heir be a girl. And I know your fussiness about other men. I would hate for you to feel uncomfortable," which wasn't quite an outright lie, as Narcissa had plenty of memories of discomfort as something inflicted by her sister. Bella continued, oblivious to her sister's scoff. "This is what makes the notion in my head so perfect." Bella said, unaware of the mad glint in her eyes, "We will use a woman. Well, a girl, anyhow." Bella tapped her chin. "Besides, my dear, you've always wanted to make Granger suffer for what she did to my dear nephew."

Bella ignored the way the Narcissa rose so quickly in shock, the way the chair tumbled from her outrage. "Yes," she said, "This will do. We will gain an heir and she will suffer for the crime of being what she is and at least her time with us will be useful." That last part was spat out, as the Granger had been astonishingly resistant and non-compliant, even under the direst of circumstance. It made her a fascinating toy, but not profitable in the long run, save as a misery of conscience for Potter.

Narcissa tried to come up with a way to stop the madness from touching her skirts. So far, she had managed to avoid any outright involvement, except too often as witness and save for a very few circumstances; each moment, almost always remembered, except for the Imperioused ones and each carried their own regret and sometimes exultation. Narcissa was not oblivious to her own joy when something bad happened to people she loathed. She simply hid it better than most. She spoke sharply, angrily, biting out the words. "But she is a mudblood. Lucius will be intolerable..." Among other things.

"I will handle Lucius. He is in jail now, but will soon be much too busy to complain anyhow," Bella's blue eyes flicked to the stammering Narcissa and her expression promised dire things for her sister's husband should he fail to cooperate. As for their son, Draco, he would not care what happened to Granger. He had tortured the girl with his taunts for years. The only reason he had not participated in her more recent "life experiences," had been that he was back at school, finishing his term under the guidance of his Godfather.

Narcissa's jaw clenched, her expression finally firming into that famous icy exterior; one which she dropped for only a few rare persons. Her sister included. "Fine, but if we do this, the Granger girl is mine to do with as I please. She bends, breaks, lives or dies at my hand alone. I simply can not have her distracted by..." She waved a hand nonchalantly at Bella, "...what you and your friends do to your prisoners. If I am to catch, I need her alive and at least healthy enough to stand the transformations." The darker sister began to grin, wickedness in her eyes. Narcissa, now that she was committed, began to plan, "This could take months. Do we even have enough substance to support such a long term project..."

"We had plans for infiltration into the Order. However, that fell through when Sirius, ha, fell through death's doorway. I'm sure we have enough, and if not, it can be stretched. You'll think of a way, I know you will. Oh, and think of her as my gift to you. Yours to keep. Or kill."

Narcissa nodded slowly, and considered. "I realize now I must make another demand. You must not destroy our closer relatives, Bella. Too few of us as it is. Andromeda and her daughter, off limits. Whatever we may think of them, they still carry the blood and it may someday prove true again."

"Well, I can't be everywhere."

"I don't expect you to be. But as you point out, we must protect the line. Our tree must grow again, not falter. If we do this, we do it my way." Because, technically, of the sisters, they all knew whose scores had been highest. Just because she never offered a plan to the Dark Lord did not mean she did not know how to concoct them.

Bella's pacing stopped and she cocked her head at her sister, before nodding. "Agreed."

- HP -

Once decided, once everything was haggled and deliberated, both women set about putting their plans into motion. Narcissa moved out of the rooms across from Lucius'. She might not share his bed, but, unlike he with his affairs, she was not willing to rub his nose in the fact that she was about to do this thing. Fortunately, the manor held plenty of empty suites, even when they had guests. She claimed one, set about having the house elves arrange everything to her satisfaction and prepared for the need to do something she hadn't in a long time; share a living space with someone else.

Bella, in the meantime, set about "fixing," what she had broken, at least enough to ensure that Hermione could transform as demanded. The daily interrogations stopped. The beatings stopped. The more obvious broken and torn bits were healed; with moderate success. Edible food and water was delivered in a timely way. She could do nothing about nightmares except have the girl forced to sleep, at least five hours. The floor of the dungeon was no bed, but a spelled sleep was better than none; even with the screams of dreamed Crucios breaking through the cracks.

As no one in Bella's company had a desire for trouble, the Granger girl had been relatively otherwise untouched. Teased with the danger of it, perhaps, but as she was Bella's prisoner and Voldemort's favorite minion was very possessive of her torture victims until she was completely done with them, she was mostly left alone, so, no one dabbled too heavily. The girl may have been groped, but she had not been fondled or taken or bitten by Weres. Bella would have known and punished, which took away certain worries, because for this to work, "Sirius," could not be pregnant or a shifter. It would have mucked up the whole works.

What did give Bella a certain glee was watching how the Granger girl tried to quietly figure out the plot. After all, it had all the appearance hope, but at the same time, the girl could not dare to question why. Not that she would have anyway, she had become a silent thing, as mousy in her verbiage as her matted and dull brown hair. The only noise she ever made any more was the occasional whimper and those so musical screams.

Bella would miss those, but she suspected the screams might not be completely over. After all, Narcissa hated the Granger girl. From a certain perspective, more than Bella ever did. For the darkest sister, Granger was a job and a pleasure. For Narcissa... Bella felt a shiver of pleasurable dread roll through her shoulders in memory of one particular time when Cissy had reminded Bella that she was not the only one who knew how to hurt with a wand. Cissy had always been very protective of things that were hers.

As Bellatrix considered things, perhaps she did feel a little sorry for the Granger creature.

- HP -

"I'm not doing this while you hang around, even if you are my sister. You have delivered this," the blonde waved at the shaking figure in the middle of the room, "...thing to me. Now, go away Bella."

"I can make you." The threat was softly, deliberately delivered; a reminder. Unlike Lucius, Narcissa had been telling the truth of being Imperioused. Not that, in the long run, the truth had mattered to those who judged such things.

"Yes, but then I'd forget it, and what would be the fun in that?" Narcissa delivered her rejoinder in an even, disinterested tone. Then she turned her gaze to her sister. "You did promise not to interfere, that this... Granger." She let her tongue slide the word maliciously and despite herself, enjoyed the flinch that she caught out of the corner of her eyes. After all, Bella had been right, there was a score to settle with this girl who had dared lay hands upon her son. "... is mine."

Bella smile was almost sisterly, "Oh. You do have a point. I suppose I did." She turned her gaze to prisoner and the smile turned vicious. "I don't suppose you'd let me have one for the road."

For a few moments, it seemed as if Narcissa actually contemplated the idea. "No, you have had your fun. Go find something else to play with."

Bella mock huffed. "Fine." The she grinned before striding to the door. "Don't do anything I wouldn't... Oh wait, do do it. After all, it's important!"

"Go, Bella." Narcissa waved her fingers at her sister dismissively and the darker sister exited the room with a terrible laugh of triumph.

- HP -

It had been a deliberate choice on Narcissa's part to allow only one seat in the sitting room of the suite at this time. The other furniture and comforts were set aside for later. This put the being in front of her at center stage, but herself at the seat of power, which was how it needed to be.

What she had not anticipated was her own viscerally painful reaction to finally having the moment, which should have been sweeter, but had been tainted by what she already knew had happened to the girl. Suddenly the need to avenge her son for a bloody nose was ashes in her mouth. If punishment was needed, it had been given thrice over. She already knew this. The girl's screams had been bone deep. Every time. The blonde had only escaped them by putting a silencing spell in her rooms.

Narcissa let her eyes glide over the naked figure before her, trying to remember the real height, the real coloration of the girl. The male in front of her was well formed, shoulders wide enough to please, hips slim enough to be proportional. His hands covered his lower parts protectively, but she had seen them before. Once, long ago. She knew they were of good proportion too. He had the color of the majority of the Blacks, pale, perfect skin, dark hair with a touch of curl, eyes that glinted blue. If she recalled correctly the girl's hair was bushy and brown, her eyes were chestnut, her skin fair.

Even as hale as the being appeared upon first glance, they still shook like a leaf blown by high wind. Any moment threatened collapse. The Granger had yet to speak, but that was also no surprise. Narcissa already knew what her screams sounded like.

There would be more. Such was necessity.

But whatever might be said of Narcissa, she was not unnecessarily cruel. She had no need to be.

"Just," Narcissa grimaced, breaking that icy expression hers for the first time, "Sit down." She watched as the trembling Sirius, no the girl, glanced desperately around the room, hands still crossed in front of her lower extremity. Narcissa allowed a shallow exhale to escape, as she realized the dilemma. The girl might be bright, but she had been pushed to the edges and might not be altogether... there. Narcissa said, almost gently, "I see a floor."

She watched as the legs folded under, as if dragged by gravity and Sirius, the girl, sat cross-legged upon the cold marble. Narcissa pondered the choice, as there was a rug, but a few inches away. She realized then that the girl remained conscious of her surroundings, had made that choice deliberately. Then she considered what she was actually seeing, and smelling. And considered the why and realized it had been an oddly thoughtful gesture. Narcissa wondered if it was because of herself, or the beauty of the carpet.

Whatever the case, she had come from the dungeon. Bella may have delivered Granger, but she had not made any effort to change Sirius, the girl's, circumstances, perhaps believing that Narcissa would have the same joy in dealing with a smelly, decrepit body of a victim as she.

Not for the first time, since even agreeing to this madness, Narcissa wondered what scars and wounds festered upon the girl. She winced, internally, but never let the thought reflect in her gaze. She had far too much practice to allow mercy to color her expression unless she willed it. Rescue, of course, had been out of the question. She lived in a house full of Death Eaters. The one opportunity for escape had passed and the boys had left the girl behind, no doubt justifying it as "had to." A part of her, the more genteel womanly aspect, raged at that fact and she hated Potter and Weasley with a much more deeply complete loathing. Cissy had managed to send meals, but whether they made it to the girl intact was in question.

And now here the girl was, Cissy's responsibility, claim and task. For the first time, Narcissa wondered if she'd taken on more than was possible.

To business. Like Bella, Cissy wasn't one to dance around topics, but there were many to address. "Hermione Granger, you struck my son." The girl's head did not lift, but she did shift, looking even further away. The floor seemed very important to her-slash-him at the moment. "You may imagine that I found this most displeasing to discover. I had plans to ruin you."

Was that a laugh? It was so diminutive, hardly observable. A chuff of a breath. But Narcissa felt a strange releasing in her chest. The girl's spirit was not completely gone. Shattered, yes, but not completely shriven.

"Plans, however, are often subject to change. Especially at points of necessity." Cissy, legs crossed and body languid, tapped her wand in her hand. "I require you to look at me now, Granger. Eyes forward." The snap in her voice, well practiced as a mother, was enough to startle the girl into compliance. She-he stared at Cissy with a frightened gaze. "I say necessity and I mean it. It is important for you to hear this, whether you agree, or understand or not. Did my sister bother to explain why she was administering the polyjuice?"

Granger remained silent, non-conversant, and Cissy resigned herself to the possibility that the whole of the conversation might be one-sided. Then she made the mistake of sniffing in disdain.

Really. The smell. How did Bella begin to stand it. Or maybe she didn't. It would be like her to do this on purpose. Cissy aimed her wand. "Scourgify!"

It hadn't been her intention to make the girl scream, as the spell was technically harmless. The sound was masculine, but she recognized the scale and it startled the lady of the house enough that she found herself on her feet. Hermione-slash-Sirius writhed and collapsed as the bubbling magical cleanser chased and eliminated the grime and dirt and smell from every surface, seen and unseen on the girl. She was left pristine, but fetal prone, curled upon her side.

Despite herself Cissy rushed forward, the need to dominate and control circumstances decimated. She knelt then, hands at first hesitant, and then she grasped the girl, ignoring the second shout of agony, as if the mere laying on of hands was torture alone. She drew her-slash-him, partially into her lap and slightly up. Sirius, the girl, was too big to draw in completely, but as her arms wrapped around the waist, the girl leaned. Tears rolled silently, as soundless sobs wracked, and Cissy felt the collar of her gown, her neck, grow wet.

Narcissa felt a shift within, inexplicable and deep. And she finished what needed saying, but it was transformed, "You're mine now, Hermione Granger," she whispered, though her tone was firm. "I always keep what is mine. I always protect what is mine. I always hold what is mine." She was reminded of what she had already said, plans change, and her mind was already skipping past to the parts that were important. "I will bind you in blood and substance, girl, so you know to whom you belong. It will pain you at first," the girl shuddered in her arms. "... but you already know pain. You already deal in pain. It's no more than what you already know. You will become strong, because you're mine. You will face what must be faced, because you are mine. You will do what must be done, because. You. Are. Mine. Hermione Granger."

Sirius, the girl, looked up at her then, eyes dark. She said nothing, but then she shuddered again and again. Cissy watched in silence as Sirius' body shook itself away and gone, leaving only a frail girl in her arms. Brown eyes, gone the color of dark chocolate gazed back up at her now, glimmered with tears that had suddenly stopped, as if a floodgate had been closed.

Cissy relaxed, drawing back enough to scan the girl's body. She half expected Hermione to attempt to cover herself, but she was aware that the girl was watching her with a near analytical patience. Cissy's perusal was quick, efficient, spiritually bruising. She kept her voice even, avoided hissing in anger. "I can not yet summon a healer, not until certain matters are seen to; yet you are too weak for the ceremony. Bella is much better at hatchet jobs than healing."

Again there was that soft chuff of a laugh. Cissy looked back at Hermione's face. Wounds slowly transforming to scars ran along one side, still red and vibrant, where fingernails like claws had scraped down from forehead to chin. She was still lovely, even so. Still so very young.

"Do you want me to take you to rest, or to tell you why you are here?"

Hermione stared at her, as if puzzled that she should even be asked; after all it had been so long since she'd answered a single question thrown at her. Cissy waited, willing to make the choice if necessary, but also needing, this once, to give the girl a chance to respond. She needed to know if she could answer, if the ability was still there at all.

Hermione's voice was gravelly, her reply ponderous. "Tell me." Polite. "Please."

Cissy nodded, once, then said, without even attempting to modify the blow, "You are intended to assist me by siring the Black heir."

For the third time since her arrival, Hermione laughed. This time, however, the sound was more than a brief burst of air, but a harsh, torn thing, still short, but it was true merriment of disbelief. "That's..." she was about to say crazy, about to say impossible, about to say any number of things, but Narcissa watched as Hermione's expression changed as her mind immediately began to tackle the idea for the notion itself. By the time she was done laughing, her expression was wide eyed and serious. She shifted in the blonde's grip and extended an arm, the one that had been cruelly cut by Bellatrix. She pointed with great deliberation at the word, a name of lower caste, all blocked in uppercase letters. MUDBLOOD. "I would think this would be a problem."

As part of her preparation and because she'd felt the need after agreeing to make the attempt, Narcissa had perused the family documents, seeking for any way out of this bizarre circumstances that she'd been thrust into by her sister's machinations. As she read, however, the more she began to understand; the bloodline was not all there was to the idea of purity. And in order to remain strong, the entire family line had to be managed carefully, and now and then, for strength and to prosper the line, one had to add in a fresh line or face dying out. As they had been.

As they were.

Narcissa realized first, that it had been a very long time since the bloodline had been truly managed as it ought to have been. She also discovered that this was not the first time that the family tree had been torn near the root. That had come as a surprise, among other things; including specific solutions offered. And the Blacks, or rather what was left of them, was at the crossroads of extermination unless some of those solutions were utilized.

The blonde expelled a breath, a pretty sigh, "It has been considered."

"Do you people have any understanding of genetics? Science? I'd point out how stupid a certain Dark Lord is, but...," and indeed, the scorn that Hermione was practically famous for in Narcissa's house finally made an appearance, and then was waved off by the girl herself, "... that's not the topic. The topic is supposedly that we, you and I, cast in the body of Sirius, would … I can't even say it." Hermione's tone was only a touch outraged, "and I've used polyjuice before. Yes, the outward appearance is changed, sometimes the voice, if the juice is very good, but every effect? Mrs. Malfoy, there is bound to be essence of me in the mix. Something I am sure you don't want."

"Do not presume to tell me what I want," snapped out Narcissa. She continued, just as sharply. "The problems of the transformation have been considered, and means and ways determined..." The older woman gazed down fiercely at the younger. "And you have no idea what we know or do not know of genetics, girl. The bloodlines have been around for ages. You have no idea how long our kind have existed, what sciences and magics we've seen come and go. Do not presume to think us ignorant, when you began with nothing."

Hermione was taken aback at the other woman's fierce tone. "I... I...," she cleared her raw throat, "I apologize, Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa rolled her eyes slightly. "In here, I am not Mrs. Malfoy. I am Narcissa or Cissy. If we are to be intimate, you might as well get used to saying my name."

Hermione blinked, unable to find a reply. She finally slumped, suddenly tired again.

"Perhaps I should have waited," the older woman said, and she drew the girl in again, began lifting her; far too easily.

"No," Hermione whispered. "It's better to know. But I don't see how. I just... I can't see this..."

"You will." Narcissa stood then, surprisingly strong. "I already know that we can not rely on the adequacy of the polyjuice. There are, however, other means..."

"There are?"

Narcissa was oddly gratified that Hermione was still curious, still interested in life to even ask the question. Or perhaps, she merely trusted what she had been told.

"Yes. I mentioned pain, did I not."

"Yes..."

"You may expect it tomorrow. In the morning, after you have slept. I don't think we can wait as long as we should. I will call the elves tonight. They have healing magic we might call upon this one time and you won't care, will you, that an elf has touched you thus."

"They are sentient beings. And you already think I'm made from dirt. No. I don't care."

"I do not think you are made from dirt," Cissy said as she laid the girl on the bed. Their bed, though she knew Hermione did not know this yet.

"Why do I find that hard to believe?"

"Because you know what I have said for years and years. Why should anyone change, myself in particular?" Hermione found herself caught in a severe azure gaze and found herself turning from the quiet fury in them.

"I see."

"Not yet. But you will." Narissa lifted a coverlet, placed it over the young girl. "Wait here, Hermione. I shall return. If you need to use the facilities, they are yours, but you can not leave this suite on your own."

"Still a prisoner."

"Yes. Mine."

Hermione closed her eyes, gulped and nodded. "You protect what is yours."

"Always."

"I don't think I could try to run away anyhow."

"No. I suspect not."

- HP -

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