Chapter Text
Harry Potter's life had been good, all things considered, despite the losses that had struck him at a young age, when he was barely a year old.
Yes, unfortunately Harry was an orphan. His parents, James and Lily Potter, had died sixteen years earlier, on the worst Halloween night Harry would ever experience, at the hands of the worst Dark Wizard the Magical World had ever seen.
Harry wasn’t one hundred percent sure what had happened… even the historians and the experts weren’t sure, so how could he be?
All that was known was that Voldemort had broken into the house, killed his father, gone upstairs to Harry’s nursery, killed his mother, and then tried to kill him.
And for some strange reason, he had failed. Apparently the spell had rebounded on him, and so Voldemort had disappeared once and for all, defeated by a one-year-old baby he had just orphaned.
And from that moment on, to the great joy of the entire Magical World, peace had returned for good. That monster was dead, his Death Eaters, the group of loyal followers, had scattered, and all’s well that ends well… more or less.
Harry had still remained an orphan, something that weighed on him, even though the life he had led wasn’t all that bad.
Harry’s custody had been taken by his godfather, Sirius Black. Even though he wasn’t his biological father, Sirius had raised him as if he were his own son, giving him all the love he needed while growing up, and Harry would always be immensely grateful to him.
At least until a few weeks ago… it was ironic how, despite all the money in the Potter and Black vaults, there had been nothing they could do to save Sirius from being killed by dragon pox.
Even now, just thinking about it made him nauseous, and a feeling of pure regret washed over him.
As mentioned, only a few weeks had passed, and Harry had not yet gotten used to it, nor had he really started living again.
He had left the house only twice since Sirius’s death: once for the funeral (Harry had made sure Sirius was buried in Godric’s Hollow, alongside his father and mother, well aware of Sirius’s hatred for his biological family) and once for the reading of the will.
Neither occasion had been easy. Everything had been incredibly intense, and not in a good way. Obviously Sirius had left him everything, including the title of Lord of the House of Black (something that, to be honest, Harry was not yet ready to take on).
As for the rest… well, Harry had holed up at home, not even answering his friends’ letters, trying not to think about anything.
It was both the downside and upside, depending on your point of view, that Sirius had died at the beginning of July… if he had died in October, Harry would have been forced to attend classes at Hogwarts anyway and socialize despite the pain he felt.
But unfortunately, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t escape the rest of the world. And Harry discovered this very soon, when Kreacher, the old and grumpy elf of Sirius (and who had now become his, now that he thought about it) entered the room without even knocking, a letter clutched in his fist.
“You have received a letter, Master,” he said, handing him the letter while muttering something inaudible under his breath. Harry was pretty sure it wasn’t a compliment.
“Thank you, Kreacher,” Harry thanked him anyway, sighing as he took the letter and opened it, curious to know who had written to him.
Considering he had resolved all the bureaucratic issues with the Ministry and Gringotts, it shouldn’t be anything “official.” And on that, Harry was obviously right, because the letter came from neither the Ministry nor the goblins, nor from his friends at Hogwarts, but… from someone else.
“Dear Mr. Potter (or perhaps I should say Heir Black),
I know we have never met, but my name is Bellatrix Black. I am the cousin of your late godfather and you could almost consider me an aunt. First of all, I wanted to offer my condolences for Sirius’s passing, and then invite you here to Black Residence, where I live, this evening. I know what it feels like to experience grief and I believe it might do you good to talk with a friendly face.
Looking forward to your reply, I wish you a pleasant day,
Bellatrix Black.”
When Harry finished reading, he had to admit he was a bit confused and unsure what to do. On one hand, Harry had always heard Sirius say not to trust any Black. Many of them had supported Voldemort, after all.
But he had never heard Sirius speak badly of Bellatrix. He had heard him speak badly of Walburga (and he had also understood why, growing up with that damned portrait around). He had heard him speak badly of Regulus, who had become a Death Eater and died years earlier. He had heard him speak badly of Narcissa, who had married Lucius Malfoy.
But not of Bellatrix, no. And then, the letter seemed very kind, as if she were genuinely worried about him. He needed that kind of person now that Sirius was gone. And so, the choice was automatic for Harry.
“Dear Miss Black,
Thank you for the invitation. I would be perfectly happy to meet you and spend Saturday evening with you. May I reach you via the Floo Network?
Let me know,
Harry Potter.”
“Kreacher,” Harry called once he had finished writing the note. “Could you please deliver this reply to Miss Black?”
Once again, Harry’s request was met with grumbling from the old elf, but it didn’t matter. Harry knew he would deliver it anyway, and now he couldn’t help but wait for the meeting with Bellatrix with curiosity.
Bellatrix had always been an ambitious woman, ever since her school days at Hogwarts. She had been Sorted into Slytherin for a reason, and not because she was “evil” as some thought.
Rather, because she was ambitious, and quite ruthlessly so. She was willing to do anything to get what she wanted, and she did it her way.
Years earlier, when she was still young and carefree, Bellatrix had been offered the chance to join Voldemort and become one of his Death Eaters.
But Bellatrix… Bellatrix had refused. Why, you ask? Well, bowing before someone and kissing their feet was not Bellatrix’s style. Not at all.
She wanted others to do that to her, to press their lips to her leather shoes and beg her for mercy. That was what she had forced her father to do when he had even thought of marrying her off to one of the Lestrange brothers, Rodolphus.
As if an idiot like Rodolphus Lestrange were worthy of a goddess like her, of being able to boast that he had married one of the Black sisters.
Lucius Malfoy wasn’t worthy of marrying Cissy despite all their money, let alone Rodolphus with Bellatrix. And Bella had made sure her father understood that very quickly, with excellent results.
Another thing Bella had learned over the years, however, was patience. Patience was an important virtue in order to bring Bellatrix the results she hoped for.
As much as she wanted to be in command, she still had to wait, let events unfold until the situation was completely in her favor.
And so Bellatrix had done exactly that, waiting and watching as her family grew smaller and smaller, until all that remained were two sisters (one of them disowned), and her cousin Sirius (besides herself, of course).
At that point, Bellatrix found herself at a crossroads. Yes, because you see, the Black family had a… particular tradition. A very particular one.
The Blacks valued strength above all, wanting to ensure that the Lord of the House was always the strongest possible in the family. Cunning and ruthless, with a dominant character, as befitted a house like the House of Black.
For this reason, an ancient law allowed even women to rise to power, in a very simple way to say, but more complicated to do: by making the heir to the House of Black submit before reaching the age of majority.
Obviously, it hadn’t been feasible with Sirius. When he had taken power, Sirius had already long since reached the age of majority, and the ring he had so hated — and that Bellatrix so craved — had remained on his finger, impossible to challenge.
And so, as mentioned, Bellatrix had had to wait for the right moment, without too much haste. And finally that moment had arrived.
By the laws of magic, Bellatrix had not been able to harm Sirius to get him out of the way. All she had been able to do was drop small hints about how “politics didn’t suit him” in the hope that he would decide to relinquish the ring and leave the House of Black in standby, waiting for his heir to turn 17.
That hadn’t happened, but luck had still smiled on Bellatrix with Sirius’s illness and his death from dragon pox. Sirius was no longer there (may his soul rest in peace) and Harry Potter, his young heir, was ready to be claimed.
Bellatrix would make sure he submitted, that he became Lady Black upon reaching the age of majority, rather than the Lord of the House, and Bellatrix… Bellatrix would rule the house and the shark-infested waters of politics.
It was better this way, after all. From what little Bellatrix had been able to discover about him, Harry Potter was anything but ready for what awaited him if he accepted the role of Lord Black, and probably never would be.
It was better for him to step aside, to give power to someone more capable of wielding it, while from then on all he would have to worry about would be worshipping the goddess that was Bellatrix Black.
The mere thought of Harry Potter’s green eyes staring at her in adoration was enough to make her futa cock harden inside the dress she wore, waiting for Harry’s arrival.
Bellatrix took a deep breath to calm herself. She shouldn’t rush. If she welcomed the boy with her obvious bulge showing, she risked scaring him too soon, and that would be counterproductive to her plan.
She had to take it one step at a time, starting with dinner, of course. A dinner that, as was typical of Bellatrix, still involved a good dose of planning.
First of all, Harry’s food would obviously be spiked. Lust potions, submission potions, love potions… there would be a bit of everything in that beef fillet.
Bellatrix was a potion mistress; she knew there would be no physical risk to Harry, only mental. Yes, his mind would no longer be the same after that evening, nor would his soul.
But it was only right that it be so, wasn’t it? Bellatrix felt she was only doing Harry Potter a favor, giving him a more… suitable purpose for the kind of boy he was.
Not only would she spare him the constant battles of the political world, but she would allow him to share a bed with the most beautiful woman in the Magical World… and to see a real cock in action. Yes, it sounded wonderful.
When Bellatrix heard the fireplace begin to glow green, she allowed herself a smile and flicked her wand to give Harry permission to enter.
The moment had arrived. The prey was entering her den, and Bellatrix, the good predator that she was, was ready to strike.
The Harry Potter who entered Black Residence would be very different from the one who would leave.
Harry, honestly, had no idea what to expect from this meeting.
On one hand, as mentioned, there was the fact that Sirius had never really sung the praises of any member of his family.
His godfather had told him repeatedly that his real family was the Potter family, and that all the Blacks could rot in hell, with the exception of a few black sheep (the irony, huh?).
Sirius had never specified who those black sheep were, though. Could Bellatrix Black perhaps be one of them?
After all, Bellatrix was the sister of Andromeda, Tonks’s mother (his cousin and the only Black by blood that Harry had really seen regularly while growing up), so… well, maybe she wasn’t so bad.
And so, Harry decided to go for it, ignoring any possible voice in his head telling him not to take the risk.
It was his own instinct that Harry decided to follow. An instinct that told him that in the Black family’s summer residence he would find what he needed… whatever that was.
And Harry had always been used to following his instinct. Maybe it was because he had been raised by a Gryffindor and had become a Gryffindor himself in every way.
“Finally, you’re here,” the smile Bellatrix gave him when he stumbled out of the fireplace a bit clumsily (he would never learn to exit gracefully, there was no helping it) relaxed him a little.
“Miss Black, thank you for the invitation,” Harry thanked her, relying on the (few) pure-blood etiquette lessons Sirius had given him.
“None of that, Harry,” she replied, waving her hand almost dismissively. “You can call me Aunt Bellatrix, or just Bella if you prefer… that’s what my friends and family call me.”
“Not that many of them are left,” Harry commented impulsively, unable to hold back the bitterness.
“Yes, unfortunately we are few,” Bellatrix agreed with a sigh. “That’s why I wanted to write to you, actually… as you said, we are few, and it’s only right that those few stick together.”
“Yes, you’re not wrong,” Harry conceded with a nod. If there was one thing Sirius had taught him, it was that unity is strength, especially in difficult times… even though Harry was sure he had never even considered that that unity would come from the Black family.
“Well, enough with the depressing topics, Harry,” Bellatrix interrupted his thoughts with an almost stern look. “I hope you’re hungry. I had a bit of everything prepared, not knowing what you liked best.”
“I’m not picky, I eat pretty much anything, Miss Bl… I mean, Bella,” Harry corrected himself in front of the frown that had appeared on Bellatrix’s face.
“Good boy,” she praised, making him blush slightly. After all, when a beautiful woman compliments you… “Come, everything is ready.”
Harry followed her into what must have been the dining room, and… well, Bellatrix wasn’t lying. She had really prepared a bit of everything, judging by the table full of dishes.
It almost looked like the welcome feast table at Hogwarts, except there were hundreds of students there, while here… only the two of them.
“Wow, Bella, you didn’t have to, really,” Harry said, looking at all the plates full of food. “It’s too much for me. You didn’t need all this.”
“It was only right to give you the very best for our first meeting, Harry,” she replied, looking at him seriously. “Now eat. A boy like you needs food.”
With a sigh, Harry obeyed, sitting down on the opposite side of the table from Bellatrix and biting into a slice of meat.
“How is it?” Bellatrix asked with an almost… satisfied smile. Who knows why she looked so satisfied even before Harry gave his verdict on how good it was. Well, to each their own.
“Oh, very good,” Harry replied, and not out of politeness, but because he really meant it. That meat was truly delicious. “This glaze is incredible. It’s the perfect addition.”
“Oh, that’s the secret ingredient. I knew you would like it,” Bellatrix commented, satisfied. “Now keep eating and tell me a bit about yourself between bites.”
“Well, there’s not much to say, honestly,” Harry said, shrugging. “I mean, I’m about to start my sixth year, and I’m a… normal boy, I suppose.”
“A very accurate description,” Bellatrix joked, making him blush with embarrassment. “Well, tell me what your favorite subjects are and things like that.”
Encouraged by Bellatrix, Harry finally began to open up a bit more, going into greater detail about what he liked.
He told her about his favorite subjects, for example. His great passion for Defense Against the Dark Arts, or his almost natural ability in Potions, thanks to his mother’s diaries that Sirius had given him for his ninth birthday, when he had decided Harry was finally old enough not to blow up Grimmauld Place.
In return, Bellatrix opened up a bit about herself. She told him about the past, about a time when the Blacks got along better, about her relationship with her sisters and with Sirius.
Even here, Harry had no proof that it was the truth, and yet… yet with every moment that passed, Harry found himself agreeing more and more with Bellatrix.
It was almost as if with every bite of food he took, Bellatrix’s words became more sensible and believable.
To the point that, once he moved from the meat to the sausages, then to the roasted potatoes and then even to a dessert with coffee cream and fruit, Harry found himself hanging on Bellatrix’s every word, and in return answering her questions as accurately as possible.
“And so this,” Bellatrix said with a smile, finishing one of the stories about her and her sister Narcissa. “I see you’ve finished. Was everything as good as you hoped?”
“Delicious, Bella, really,” Harry replied. “Everything was delicious… thank you so much for this invitation. I needed it.”
“Thank me at the end of the evening, Harry,” the hostess commented with a smile. “Dinner was only the beginning… shall we move to the bedroom?”
Harry was surprised by her suggestion, but decided not to show it or complain. What madman would?
Harry would follow Bellatrix’s wishes. There was no doubt about that.
The plan had gone swimmingly from the very moment Harry had come out of the fireplace, nearly smashing his face on the floor.
Harry had thoroughly enjoyed the dinner, just as Bellatrix had hoped, tasting at least a piece of every dish she had prepared for him (obviously laced with potions).
All while talking to him, wanting to test certain things and especially the effects the potions in the food would have on him.
And those effects, however subtle, were still quite evident. Progressively, Harry began to look at her with more and more attention, an attention that soon bordered on adoration.
Yes, Bellatrix was delighted she had chosen to do what she was doing. Harry Potter was such a cute boy, and Bellatrix couldn’t wait to see him worship her cock.
With a sweet smile that nevertheless promised incredible fun, Bellatrix took Harry by the hand, helping him up from the chair he was sitting in at the table, ready to lead him to the bedroom.
“This place is beautiful, Bella,” he commented as she led him through the corridors. “Really beautiful, even more than Grimmauld Place.”
“Oh, you know how our family is, Harry,” Bellatrix chuckled. “They would never even dream of accepting anything less than the very best. But now, there was something I wanted to ask you, Harry… do you happen to have a special girl in your life?”
“Uh… n-no, I don’t,” he stammered, uncomfortable with the sudden and surprising question, his cheeks turning red once again, making her smile.
That was exactly what she wanted to hear. Of course, if he had had a girlfriend it wouldn’t have been too much of a problem, since Bellatrix would have made him forget her quickly, but it would have been less fun.
They might have ended up with a heartbroken girl in the middle trying to cause problems… no, it was better this way. Much better.
“So you’ve never had the chance to get any action?” she asked with a smile, opening the bedroom door for him. It was a luxurious and enormous room, like every room in what was more a manor than an actual house.
“Action?” Harry repeated, looking at her with evident confusion in his beautiful green eyes, making her chuckle again.
“Oh, I’m sure Sirius must have given you ‘the talk’ about the birds and the bees, right?” she asked, making his eyes widen and his cheeks flush once more.
“Y-yes and… so no, I haven’t had any action,” Harry whispered, looking at the floor and missing her triumphant smile. Perfect. Simply perfect.
“Would you like to have some with me, then?” she asked, making his eyes widen even more, if possible.
“Are you offering to…?” Harry couldn’t even finish the sentence from embarrassment.
“Yes, Harry,” Bellatrix confirmed. “Now take off your trousers and underwear for me. Show me what you have to offer.”
Despite the embarrassment, Bellatrix had to give him credit: Harry didn’t make her wait. With slightly trembling hands, Harry untied the laces of his trousers, quickly lowering them along with his underwear, and…
“Oh Merlin,” Bellatrix couldn’t hold back a laugh at what she saw before her. Oh, this was going to be even easier than expected. “Harry, you really are… well, really small.”
“I… s-sorry, Bella,” he said, his cheeks turning fiery red. “I-I’ll put my trousers back on, then…”
“Oh no, oh no, no, no, Harry,” she scolded him, wiping away a few tears of amusement. “You’re not getting dressed for any reason.”
“But… you said I’m too small,” he noted in a low voice, clearly mortified. “So I thought you meant you didn’t want to do any action anymore?”
“Oh, we are going to have some action, Harry,” Bellatrix reassured him, approaching him and giving his cock a little squeeze, making him moan. “It will simply be different from what you expect.”
“Hmm, w-what?” Harry asked, his breath catching from the pleasure that even her small caress had caused.
“You see, Harry, certain women only accept the best when it comes to men’s cocks… especially when it comes to pure-blood women,” she informed him, like a teacher explaining a lesson to her student.
“Four inches are not enough. Not at all, Harry,” she said, estimating his size. “It can’t even be considered a real cock… would you like to see one worthy of the name?”
Harry stammered in confusion in response to her question, unable to really find the words to answer. But it wasn’t necessary, after all. Bellatrix didn’t need it.
With a fluid and direct movement, Bellatrix lowered the skirt she was wearing (sometimes Muggle wonders had their charm) and the panties underneath.
“This, Harry, is a real cock,” Bellatrix told him with a little smirk, her twelve-inch futa cock jutting out proudly, nearly touching Harry’s cheek. “And I will teach you how, even though you are clearly a failure as a man because of your size, you can still do your part in the bedroom… are you ready?”