Title: Family Business
Author: ldymusyc
Characters: Bellatrix Lestrange/Draco Malfoy
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Incest, dubcon, crossgen, minor in sexual situations (Draco is 16)
Themes/kinks chosen: Symphorophilia
Word Count: 2940
Summary: After his initiation into the Death Eaters, Draco learns a lesson at the hands of his aunt.
Author's notes: I've been a fan of Bella/Draco for years, and Helena Bonham Carter's performance with Tom Felton in HBP only encourages me to mistreat him in delightful ways. Ridiculous amounts of thanks to Inspire for going over this with me and making some excellent suggestions. :D


Draco crouched in a forgotten room in the upper reaches of the Manor, his robes puddled around him and grey at the hems from the inches of dust on the floor. He clutched his left arm, held it tight against his chest, and rocked on his knees as tears dripped off his chin to patter onto the dusty stones. It had hurt. It had hurt so fucking much. On his father, on his aunt, it looked like a tattoo, like dark ink beneath the skin. He'd never thought about it, never wondered what it truly was until that night. Until he'd been dragged from his bed in the middle of the night, hauled bodily out of the house and into the forest that huddled at the rear of the estate. He'd screamed and fought and struggled until they dropped him at the feet of a wizard with bone-white skin and eyes that burned with death.

Draco pressed his arm into his chest and sank his teeth into his lower lip to keep back little sounds of pain. Days had passed, almost a week, and still it hurt. They'd had to hold him down while they stripped him as the Dark Lord paced the circle of his followers. Rowle and Selwyn held him between them, hands locked around his biceps, and Bellatrix, mad aunt Bellatrix, stepped forward to cup his cheeks. Her long and ragged nails dug into his face, and her breath, as she leaned close to him, smelled of mold and decay. "Dear nephew," she murmured, her robes brushing his bare shins. "Our master welcomes your sacrifice."

Draco had shivered under her gaze, shivered as her eyes brightened and her lips curled up in a smile that held the slightest hint of the beauty she'd carried before Azkaban twisted her, gave her sunken cheeks and ashen skin. She dragged her nails down his throat, pricking at his wild pulse. Dragged her nails down his chest and over his nipples, tight with cold and fear. "I remember my initiation," she purred, her fingers circling his navel as the muscles in his stomach went taut. "Such glory in it. Such power." She licked her lips and glanced down the length of his body, watched her hands as they smoothed over his hips. "Such excitement."

Rowle had made a disconcerted sound, saving Draco from making it himself. "Bella," Selwyn added in a low, warning tone, and she laughed, turning away in a fast spin that slapped her robes against Draco's body. He twitched, shuddered, and bit back a noise of pain when the two men tightened their grips on his arms.

The Dark Lord had approached, his humorless smile curving a near-lipless mouth. "Family reunion," he said, and laughed that high, cold laugh. "Bellatrix, Draco, Lucius--oh." He clapped his hands like a child with a new toy and spun away to posture before his servants. "Oh, that's right. No Lucius. No weak, pathetic, useless, failure of a Lucius."

Despite the fear that made him shiver, Draco had growled. He gulped when he realized what he'd done, when the men tightened their grips even further. He'd be bruised, he knew, but as long as the Dark Lord didn't notice his momentary lapse, he would take any number of bruises. Other than the hands clamped on his arms and the knowing glance from Bellatrix before she returned her attention to her master, no one reacted.

Draco had trembled, standing only because of the men holding him up, and waited for the Dark Lord to approach him again. He knew there were people speaking around him, knew the gathered Death Eaters were responding to their master's questions, but he couldn't hear it. All he could hear was his blood rushing, his breath hastening. Those red eyes appeared before him, those thin lips moved, and before Draco could blink, the pain seared through his body.

He curled over his knees, arm pressed even tighter to his chest. It had hurt. The Dark Lord had grabbed his wrist, that gnarled wand had touched his forearm, and then there had been nothing but pain. A thousand blades pierced his skin, a thousand whips flayed him to his bones. Flames, deep green and black flames, burst from his arm as he screamed. Face twisted, throat distended, lungs emptied as he screamed until blood ran from his nose and he choked, swallowing it down.

His vision had gone red, then grey, then black, and he woke moments later on the ground. The men held his arms and shoulders as his body seized; Bellatrix held his legs with her own weight, her hands clamped on his hips. His heels drummed the dirt and she clambered up his body, her robes rucking up to her thighs. She brushed her knuckles over his cheeks, gathered up tears and licked them from her fingers. "Accept it, nephew," she said to him, her voice full of elated, malevolent pleasure. "Accept it. Take it all. Ride the pain and make it yours. Let it burn within you."

He had wept, sobbed with it. Sobbed with pain, with fear, with a sick ache in his gut as the magic forced him into writhing under Bella. Jubilant, exultant, she clamped her hands on his jaw and her thighs on his hips, keening in triumph as the Mark burned into his flesh and the flames died away. He cried with a deep, disgusted shame when Bella's body riding his gave enough friction that his overloaded nerves twisted his pain into ecstasy. He screamed once more, throat raw, as his back arched and he convulsed, spattering Bella's robes and thighs with come. She screamed with him, then leaned down to kiss his bloody, bitten lips. "Well done," she purred.

Draco retched, bile staining his mouth. He hadn't been able to look at Bella since, couldn't meet her darkly amused eyes at dinner or in passing, couldn't even catch a glimpse of her without blood rushing shamefully to his face and even more shamefully to his groin. Beneath his heavy robes, his cock would harden every time he neared her, every time he passed her in a corridor. He knew he couldn't avoid her forever, but he tried. He scuttled through the Manor, hid in chambers full of canvas-covered furniture, ignored her laugh as it followed him into his rooms and his dreams.

"Nephew!" Her voice sing-songed nearby and he shuddered. He pulled his hood over his head, tucked his hands into his sleeves, and tried to disguise himself as nothing more than a shadow within a shadow. "Dear nephew! Time for lessons!"

Draco caught his lips between his teeth to hold his mouth shut, to keep back the childish whimpers that would give away his position. Too late, he knew, far too late. Bella knew. She knew where to find him, knew where he was, knew what he thought. Knew everything he tried to hide. He curled in on himself and stirred up the dust he crouched in, then his nostrils flared as they filled with dust. He choked, eyes watering, and he sneezed.

Lost. Too late to run. He heard Bella's footsteps outside the room, heard the ancient hinges of the door protest as she pushed it open. "Nephew," she called again, and he quivered as she laughed. "There you are. Hide and seek, Draco. I win."

Her hand rested on his head. She pulled his hood back and ran her fingers through his hair, tickled the curve of his ear. "Time for lessons," she repeated, her voice unexpectedly soft, then she twisted her fingers in his hair and yanked his head up. He yelped and scrabbled to his feet as she cooed at him. She patted his cheek, chortled when he flinched as her nails came close to his eye.

"I think you're ready for something a little different today," she told him. "Something special, now that you're one of us. You're ready to learn one of my secrets." She leaned in close, breathing against his ear. "Since I know one of yours."

Bella held his face in both hands, rubbed her thumbs over his cheekbones and lips, and opened her eyes wide. Draco gave a weak, nasal whine, as he closed his eyes to shut her out. Bella pressed her thumbs to the corners of his eyes, pushed until the lids cracked apart. She smiled, showing off her yellowed teeth. "Our master left you in my hands. I know what's best for you. Do it."

He didn't need to ask what she meant. Draco sniffed and took a shuddering breath. "Legilimens."

Behind her eyes, flames consumed a cottage. Bodies writhed in the fire, men screamed in broken, howling voices. The hollow eyes of a skull burned dark in the sky and a snake tongued the clouds. In the sickly green light, Bella danced, torn and bloodied robes flapping loose to expose a rounded thigh, a rounder breast. She raised her hands and rent her robes, baring herself to the goggling men around her. Rodolphus, Rabastan, Lucius.

Lucius.

Draco hissed and struggled in Bella's grip, but she clung to his head so tightly he thought she might crush his skull. He stared into her eyes and watched as Rodolphus stroked Bella's breast, watched as Rabastan caressed Bella's thigh. Watched Lucius turn away, face twisted in disgust.

"Your father was always too weak," she whispered to him, her thumbs brushing his mouth. "He thought every battle could be won with money and manipulation, had no interest in the joy of the fight. He never felt his heart pulsing to the rhythm of screams. Never felt his breath race as the useless Muggle-borns and the traitors were found inferior and wanting, were judged with fire and blood. He went through the motions to satisfy our Lord, and that is why he is suffering now. You must give in to the flames, and he wouldn't. He didn't have the stomach for it, your father. He never understood the sheer pleasure of it, the dark, secret passion in it."

Draco growled at the insults to his father, and Bella squeezed his cheeks, her nails close to gouging his face. Her eyes narrowed and Draco held still, held his breath. Bella watched him until she seemed satisfied that he would refrain from further protests. She nodded, once, and her fingers loosened from their punishing grip. She leaned closer, until her charnal breath filled his nose, until he could sense the movement of her lips as she spoke. "Lucius hated to sully his soft hands," she murmured. "He never felt the true joy in it. He failed to understand. Failed us all. But you, Draco. You won't fail us, will you? You're so much better than him. You felt it, at your initiation. You felt the joy of it."

In her eyes, Rodolphus opened his robes and stroked his stiffened cock, gripped the shaft as Bella knelt, opened her full lips and slid them over the head. She drew him in, cheeks hollowing as she sucked her husband's cock. Behind her, Rabastan went to his knees, and his arms slipped around her. He pulled her robes open and cradled her breasts in his palms.

Draco watched, breath fast, pulse rapid, forgetting thoughts of his father's disgusted gaze as the trio fucked before a backdrop of flames, as their cries and moans joined those of the dying. He watched them writhe and tangle together, and he felt his cock harden at the sight. Bella pushed him backwards until his spine rubbed the wall and crumbling flakes of the ancient wallpaper fell on his shoulders. "Please," he whispered, and his lips brushed hers with the shape of the words. It was a plea, but to his dismay, the tone was wrong. He'd intended a refusal, but when it left his mouth, it was a request. "Bella, please."

"Your father was soft, nephew." She released him to drag her hands down his chest. Her fingers twitched his robes open, flicked at his nipples, toyed over his ribs. Her nails stroked over his abdomen, scraped down his stomach, and scratched at the root of his cock. He keened at the back of his throat and Bella laughed deep in hers. "He was soft. You, dear Draco, are not."

She wrapped her hand around him and he broke. The images in her mind, the unbidden arousal of her fingers around his shaft, the memory of his initiation and the strength in the orgasm that had seized him while she straddled his hips, all broke him. He kissed her.

He grabbed her shoulders, thin bones stabbing into his palms, and kissed her as she stroked his cock. Her tongue slid over his, filled his mouth and cut off his voice, as he canted his hips to push his cock into her squeezing fingers. Her free hand smoothed over his chest, rubbed his sternum from base to tip, until the heel of her hand pressed on the pulse in his throat. She released the kiss, bit his lip over the scab from where he'd bitten through it at his initiation. She sank her teeth into his lip and pulled until the injury re-opened and blood slithered over his tongue.

"Blood will tell," she whispered, and she licked his mouth. He trembled, flicked his tongue out to touch hers, and he pushed at her robes. They spread open and he splayed his hands over her chest. Her breasts, taut and high in her memories, lay wilted in his palms when he cradled them, sagging and puckered like winter apples. Still, he stroked them, caressed them, tweaked her nipples to peaks. She writhed against him, one hand clamped on his cock, one hand pressed to his neck. He swallowed blood, his throat struggling to move under her palm, and felt tears on his cheeks.

Shame. Need. Roaring flames that echoed in his roaring pulse.

"Bella."

This time, her name was the plea, and she laughed against his ear. "You do enjoy this," she said, her voice rumbling through him. He nodded, silent, his damp cheek moving on her hair, the shame twisting into sick pleasure at the approval that laced her words. She laughed again and slid her hand under his sleeve, her nails tickling at the brand in his arm. Draco jerked, his head thumping against the wall, and Bella shushed him in an amused voice. She lifted his arm, pushed up his sleeve, and laid her lips on the translucent skin at his wrist. She mouthed his skin, a trail of kisses left up his forearm, as she traced the point of her tongue over the skull and snake burned into his flesh. Each small lick eased the pain of the brand, each brush of her tongue turned the bone-deep anguish to pleasure.

"There you are," she whispered, when he groaned. "That's how it is. That is why we love our work. It feels so, so good. So much better when you give in and let it burn you. Passion and flames, nephew. Only we can truly understand the power in it. Glorious, isn't it?" He nodded again, his hands moving on her withered breasts. Bella tightened her grip on his cock, and murmured against his ear.

She spoke of the coming war, spoke of the first war. She purred as she stroked him, creating images with her voice. Images of bodies writhing under the lash of a spell, of people screaming when wands pointed and masks gleamed in firelight. Draco locked his hands in her hair, wrapped his fists around the thick mass and felt strands loosen from her skull. He pulled and she moaned; he tugged and she laughed. Bella stroked his cock, her hand relaxing and squeezing in rhythm to her words. Draco's hips rocked in a matching rhythm, his blood pounding every time Bella's lips brushed his ear, every time she whispered to him of her expectations, her pride.

Blood, and death, and passion. Pain and pleasure mixed in a whirl he craved and hated all at once. Bella sank her teeth into his earlobe, panting with her excitement, gasping with his. Draco flattened his shoulders into the wall, tears on his cheeks, throat raw and aching with every moan and whimper he held back. When he came, it was with a wrenching cry, held tilted back and tendons in his neck taut. Bella squeezed his cock, milked the last drops from him, and wiped her hand on his chest.

She brushed a smudge of dust from his cheek and kissed him, her lips almost tender. Draco opened his eyes, mouth moving against hers in silent words, hot shame rising to redden his cheeks. "Shhh," she whispered, responding to what he couldn't, wouldn't speak aloud. "Remember how it feels. Let it fill you, let it burn you." She caught his arm, drew it up to her mouth, and bit down on the mouth of the skull embedded in his flesh. Draco cried out as she broke skin. He trembled, waiting for the onslaught of renewed pain, but when Bella lifted her head and smiled at him with reddened teeth, the heat that swirled through him was an aroused fire.

"Soon, when you've learned your lessons, we'll test your skills on one of those worthless pieces of scum that infect our world. And then you will truly understand." The flames that seared his mind and stirred his cock were mirrored in her eyes, and she kissed him again, her tongue sliding between his lips to lick the blood from his mouth. "Well done, Draco. Well done."