Halloween - The Aftermath: Chapter 6 (Patreon)

James looked on as the aurors rounded up all the members of what was once known as the Black Swan - a terrorist organization made up of the remnants of Voldemort’s Death Eaters looking to continue the dirty work of their long slain master.

He glanced at the broken and battered body of Lucius Bloody Malfoy. The blonde ponce had been a pain in his ass for over three decades now. They had their feud at Hogwarts which admittedly began when the Marauders had been newly born. They had got the idea to prank the Slytherins and coincidentally an 11-year-old Lucius Malfoy had been one of their first victims. They had had a few chuckles over the years whenever they recalled how ridiculous the boy had looked back then with his slick hair turned bright orange.

Since then, Lucius had harbored a grudge against the Marauders and their de-facto leader in particular. Said grudge transformed into intense dislike over the years and it didn’t take long for a dislike to turn into utter hatred when the war started in earnest.

However, what made Lucius loath James Potter was the fact that the woman he had lusted after, the one who had been promised to him, the one who he had fantasized about in his disgusting dreams, spurred him to marry a widower with a child instead.

That had been a severe blow to the ego of the head of the Malfoy family. That a woman in her prime rejected a man of his station and power to marry a widower of all people was something he simply couldn’t believe. Once that fact sank though, safe to say, Lucius lost whatever sanity he had left. The once cunning and manipulative man turned into a shell of his former self overnight. Reluctant to take part in murder or torture under Voldemort, the man became a vicious abuser of the highest degree, frequently taking part in murder, torture, and rape.

He knew it disturbed his associates. He knew they thought less of him. However, it became his only source of pleasure as well as a mode of vengeance. The state of those blonde women, all violated and broken in either his bed or his dungeons started to feel cathartic over time. Once he realized what a vile human being he had turned into, he found that he didn’t care in the slightest. That was when he realized there was no redemption for him, and he didn’t want one either. In his mind, he was living his life to the fullest, the sick version of pleasure being one he reveled in. Why would he want something like redemption when there was no need for him to be redeemed?

What started as a way of taking out his frustrations became something which made him feel powerful. As his power in the British ministry reduced, his extracurricular activities in his dungeons increased. It started to make him feel powerful as if he could do anything in the world. His way of satiating his lust became a tool to abuse and get addicted to.

As Lucius looked blearily up at the smug visage of James Potter, he felt his rage swell up. Never before had he hated another human being as much. And he was sure he could never hate someone so much as this man who had his feet planted right where he had burnt his wand off.

“You don’t look so smug now, Lucy.”

He bristled inwardly at the butchery of his name. However, he could do nothing but whimper in pain as it made itself known. The bones in his fingers were crushed into pieces.

“I imagined this, you know?” Potter continued, his voice taking a faraway lilt as he looked toward the valley sprawled in front of where they had fought.

Fought. Lucius internally scoffed. More like battered black and blue, with a splash of betrayal mixed in.

“I really did, visualizing how it would feel to have your pathetic, stinking, filthy flesh all broken and battered at my feet. But even more than that, I imagined the ways I would break you, part by part, piece by piece, until not even a speck of your filthy blood remained to somehow get you whole,” Potter snarled, and Lucius tried. He tried to growl at the smug asshole, to show him just who he was. But try as he might, all he could make out was a painful mewl.

If the widening of that damnable smirk on Potter’s face was any indication, he was really enjoying his suffering.

“Yes, it is all I imagined. And even more.” Potter waved his hands at someone and nodded at whoever had come up.

“Yes Proudfoot, I’m sure. You guys start making your way downhill. Someone has to clear the trash. We can’t go about destroying such natural serenity, y’know? And given how lethargic you all are, I humbly volunteer to carry out this menial task. Go on.”

The bastard sounded way too cheery for such a situation, Lucius thought.

“Don’t take too much time then. You have to get back home soon as well, remember? It’s almost noon already,” the man remarked, prompting an infuriating chuckle from the damnable bastard.

“Who are you, my mum? C’mon mate, I’ll be down soon.”

Lucius heard more than saw the man walk away from them, and he looked through the haze of blood that had spurted over his eyes from when Potter had broken his nose to see the auror team start making their way downhill with the former members of his group in tow, those stinking bastards who betrayed him following behind like a bunch of sycophantic servants.

“Now then,” Potter suddenly clapped his hands, sounding way too chipper for his taste, “let’s get the show started, shall we? Sadly we won’t have any spectators so let’s call it a rehearsal. Only there will be no actual event.”

A loud cry tore its way out of his parched throat as he felt something slam into his arm, shattering all the bones and sending him sprawling on the cold white ground.

‘A bone shattering hex. This asshole is actually going to torture me!?’

Lucius felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time now. Pure, unadulterated fear. He was not afraid of death. He had accepted that fact when he joined the Death Eaters all those years ago. What he truly feared though, was pain and suffering.

They were once talking about how they would prefer to die, him and his comrades when they had joined the Death Eaters. Lucius’ answer had been swift and sure.

‘The killing curse,’ he recalled himself saying back then, ‘I would prefer to die in the most painless manner possible. I can’t imagine how it would feel like to undergo pain and suffering. Better a quick death than an agonizing one.’

‘Well, it looks like I won’t get to die the way I wish I had,’ Lucius thought through the haze of pain.

“That was for taking Narcissa’s name out of your fucking mouth, you cunt,” Potter snarled as he breathed heavily, desperately trying to gather as much air as he could in his lungs. His breathing was growing slightly erratic, his chest constricting painfully and he could feel a sharp pain in his ribs.

‘Broken ribs perhaps,’

Another loud cry was heard across the clearing as James Potter twisted his wand in a semicircle. He watched with a stoic look on his face as Lucius’ knees twisted around halfway through until his feet were pointing backward.

Lucius continued to cry his heart out as he felt his knees getting twisted around. The pain was unbearable. He could not imagine anything feeling more painful. He honestly felt like he could take a hundred Cruciatus curses from the Dark Lord himself if it meant he could escape this pain.

James saw the asshole crying and it gave in a small degree of satisfaction.

“Why resort to dark curses when you can inflict even more damage using simple spells, huh, Lucy?” James asked rhetorically.

Malfoy’s cries gave way to pitiful whimpers, the pain unbearable. He was ready to do anything to escape this. He was ready to even beg Potter, grovel at his feet, anything, but only if he could. There was no way he could speak a word in this state. The words just wouldn’t come out.

“This was for all those times you said what you would do to Narcissa, you fucking shitstain,” Potter snarled again over his weak whimpers, his voice entirely devoid of any care or concern.

“Make no mistake, Lucius. I’m going to kill you today. I’m going to get rid of you entirely. Your bloody carcass will be torn into pieces, shredded to smithereens until not even a trace remains. No one will miss you. No one will care that you are gone. Hell, no one will even notice you’re not there. You know why, Lucius? Because there is no one who cares what happens to you. You’re nothing.”

“Y-you’re...” Lucius tried, and James stopped in surprise.

“You still speak, huh? Alright then, go on,”

Lucius glared at him balefully with his face bloody and broken, and snarled.

“You’re going to pay for this. I’ll kill you Potter. And then I’ll...” Lucius coughed harshly, blood splattering the snow, “I’ll break your whore of a wife while your spawn watches.”

James glared at the sorry excuse of a human with utter loathing. A blood-boiling curse left the tip of his wand and made contact with Lucius’ left leg.

A blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the valley as the blood in his leg boiled up. The phenomenon with that unlucky grunt repeated but only with his leg. A flick of his wand and the leg exploded in a shower of blood and gore.

A loud hissing erupted as the boiling blood fell on the snow.

Lucius’ whimpers escalated as he tried in vain to drag his hand down to where his leg stood attached to the rest of his body, his eyes wide in pain and disbelief as James breathed deep.

“You shouldn’t have said that, you really shouldn’t have said that.”

As the vengeful auror slashed his wand, the valley echoed with the cries of a terrorist getting his rightful comeuppance. Blood flowed freely, painting the snowy ground crimson as James Potter continued to exact his long-awaited revenge on the man who had been a thorn in his life for decades.

XXX

Meanwhile, on the other end, the scene was entirely different. It was almost noon and the bed of Harry’s room was filled with a sequence of tangled limbs. Her back firmly pressed up against his front, Narcissa had her eyes closed, her breathing slow and steady as Harry spooned her from behind. Both of his arms were wrapped around her alluring body, one palm on her flat belly while the other cupped one delicious orb, fingers lightly caressing her puffy nipples that had endured so much over the past twelve hours or so. Their recent bout of sex was better defined as lovemaking. Confessions had a way of making it seem like so, the words better reflected in actions.

For the umpteenth time, Narcissa reminisced how wild, how exciting, and how fulfilling she had felt for the past twelve hours. If she was being honest with herself, she couldn’t believe only half a day had passed since she and Harry had given themselves to each other. It felt like they’d been together for years, making love and getting frisky.

Her husband had told her many times that he would be okay if she took another man to bed to satisfy her admittedly unfulfilled sexual needs. However, she had declined every time. If only she knew...

The thoughts of her husband brought a small frown to her pretty face, her lips curving down as she bit her lip softly. She knew James would be fine if she told him that she had finally taken him up on his offer. He loved her way too much to decline her or hold her back in such a manner. What she was actually apprehensive about, was the fact that the man she had finally decided to give herself to was no one other than his son. It was a completely different scenario now. A seemingly random man was one thing, but getting together with his own son was crossing a line. Not to mention the fact that she really loved what the two of them had done.

She loved James, and he loved her. But she admitted to herself that she genuinely loved being with Harry as well, and not in the way a stepmother should be with her stepson. She was surprised when she realized that fact, but when she factored in the reality that she had always been close to Harry without any maternal feelings involved, it didn’t feel so shocking.

James might be okay with her giving herself to someone a few times to satiate her urges, but she had a hard time believing that he would be willing to share her for a prolonged period. He might have been okay with her getting together with someone else to scratch the itch, to put it crudely, but she didn’t think he would be okay if she said she wanted to fuck his son whenever she could because she was honestly loving every second of it.

Another thing that started to bother her was the fact that there was a significant age gap between her and Harry. She was old enough to be his mother, and the risk that he might cultivate feelings for her beyond carnal made her feel as if she was taking away a chance at a normal life from him. He deserved to find a witch around his own age, get married, have a family, basically everything that he should have. She didn’t want him to get fixated on her and give up on all of that.

“You’re thinking too hard, Cissy.”

His soft voice filtered into her ears and Narcissa sighed. The fingers that were caressing her tits ceased their movement and she felt him drag his hand up her body to cup her chin. His body shifted slightly backward as she felt herself turn around in his embrace. She chanced a look up through her eyelashes to see him looking down gently at her. The fondness in his eyes, the same color as his mother's, was all too visible for her to see.

“What happened?”

Narcissa sighed. She knew she should share what she was feeling with him but she failed to articulate it in words. Harry sensed her inner turmoil and didn’t waste a single second.

His lips were on hers in an instant, soft and tender, gently caressing and Narcissa felt herself melting into the kiss. It felt like it ended too soon, and Harry softly caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

“Don’t worry about anything, Cissy. I’ll talk to Dad when he gets home.”

He chuckled when she looked at him with slightly widened eyes.

“Now, what else is bothering you?”

Narcissa released a deep breath and told him everything she was feeling at the moment. Harry listened intently as she poured everything down, giving an odd chuckle or two at times which earned him an annoyed look from the blonde vixen in his arms. Finally, when Narcissa had let it all out, Harry sighed.

“First, don’t think for even a moment that I would ever be ashamed of what we have here. I loved what we did, and I don’t regret it. The sex is awesome so that’s already a point in our favor,” he chuckled as Narcissa swatted his bare chest.

“And don’t you worry about how Dad might feel. We’ll talk to him, and I’m hoping he would understand. He knows we’ve never had a mother and son relationship. It won’t be entirely taboo, at least I hope so.”

“Are you really sure about James though? You really believe he'll understand?”

“Well, we can’t do anything about it, can we?” Harry sighed, “All we can do is be honest with him. Don’t look at me like that, Cissy,” Harry remarked when he saw the look on her face, “I’m being realistic here. We can only hope he’s alright with it all.”

Narcissa could do nothing but sigh and nod.

“And don’t you feel you’re some old woman,” Harry whispered huskily in her ear, sending a shiver of pleasure rolling through her when he gently sucked on her earlobe, “you are one of the hottest women I’ve ever been with, and that list includes a pair of veela. You’ll never be someone I would regret being with.”

She felt him draw back and tilt her chin up. With a small smile on his face, he brought his lips close and whispered, “And who knows? Maybe I've knocked you up already,”

Narcissa could only look at him with impossibly wide eyes as he said what she'd been thinking for a while now. His lips made contact with hers and she tentatively returned his kiss, her mind still reeling with the possibility of what he just said.

XXX

To be continued...