The world solidified around them as they apparated, and Daphne's grip on Harry's hand tightened reflexively as her feet found solid ground. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision, and as the disorientation passed, she found herself standing in what looked like a luxurious suite.
The suite was massive, easily larger than any single room of the Greengrass manor had been. Floor to ceiling windows dominated one wall, offering a breathtaking view of Paris at night. The furniture was all rich leather and polished wood, arranged for both comfort and aesthetic appeal. A king-sized bed occupied one end, covered in silk sheets that probably cost more than most people earned in a month.
Astoria swayed slightly beside her, and Daphne immediately wrapped an arm around her sister's waist to steady her. Her face had gone pale again during the journey, and she was breathing with shallow gasps.
"Make yourselves comfortable," Harry said easily, releasing their hands and gesturing around the room.
Daphne guided Astoria toward the couch, her mind racing. She'd expected many things when she'd agreed to this conversation, but being apparated to what was clearly Harry Potter's personal suite in Paris hadn't been one of them. Every instinct she'd honed over years of survival was screaming at her to grab her sister and run, but she forced herself to remain calm. Running wouldn't help Astoria, and Potter had been right about one thing. If he'd wanted to hurt them, he wouldn't have needed all this elaborate setup.
She'd just gotten Astoria settled on the plush couch when the door opened.
Daphne turned to see who had entered, and her entire body went rigid. Her breath caught in her throat as a familiar figure swept into the room. Long dark hair cascaded past her shoulders, framing a face that had haunted many people's nightmares for years. The woman wore a form fitting black dress that left little to the imagination, and her dark eyes swept over the sisters with undisguised curiosity.
"Bellatrix," Daphne breathed, the name coming out strangled. Her hand flew to her wand holster by pure instinct.
Astoria made a small, frightened sound beside her, shrinking back into the couch cushions. Her hand found Daphne's free one and squeezed with surprising strength for someone so weakened.
Harry let out a quiet chuckle, and Daphne's head snapped toward him. He was watching their reaction with an amused look on his face, looking completely relaxed. He looked like he didn't even care that one of the most dangerous witches alive had just strolled into the suite looking like a woman straight out of an adolescent's wet dreams.
"There's nothing to worry about," he said, his tone almost conversational.
"Nothing to worry about?" Daphne's voice came out higher than she intended, years of careful composure cracking in face of her shock. "That's Bellatrix. She tortured people for fun. She killed without remorse. She—"
She was already pulling her wand free, muscle memory overriding all rational thought. But before the wood had even cleared her holster completely, Harry moved.
One moment he was standing several feet away, the next he was directly in front of her. Daphne barely had time to gasp before his hand closed gently over hers, stopping her with barely any pressure at all. His green eyes bored into hers, and there was something in them that made her freeze completely.
"Easy," he said softly, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. "I promise you, there's nothing to worry about."
The contact sent an unexpected jolt through Daphne's system. His hand was warm against hers, his grip firm but careful, and he was standing close enough that she could smell his masculine scent deeply. It made her thoughts stutter.
She stared up at him, completely thrown by the gentleness of his touch, the commanding air around him, and the calm certainty in his voice.
Slowly, carefully, Harry guided her hand back down to her side. He never broke eye contact, never increased the pressure of his grip, just maintained that steady, reassuring contact until her arm had lowered completely. Only then did he release her and step back, offering a small smile.
Daphne's wand remained clutched in her hand, but she made no move to raise it again. Her heart was hammering against her ribs for reasons that had nothing to do with fear of Bellatrix anymore. She couldn't quite process what had just happened, how easily he'd stopped her, how gentle he'd been about it, or why a part of her wanted him to touch her again.
The smile Harry gave her before stepping away made her stomach do something complicated.
"Much better," he said, turning back toward Bellatrix.
The dark haired witch had been watching the entire exchange with obvious interest, a knowing smile playing at her lips. As Harry approached, she moved to meet him, and it made Daphne's breath catch for entirely different reasons.
Without hesitation, Bellatrix draped herself over Harry, her body pressing against his intimately. One of her hands slid up his chest while the other curved around his neck, her fingers playing with the hair at his nape. She tilted her head back to look up at him, and the expression on her face was nothing like the mad, cruel woman Daphne remembered from the war.
This Bellatrix looked soft. Adoring, even.
"Master," she purred, the word dripping with affection and something darker that made heat rise into Daphne's cheeks. What followed shocked her even more.
One moment, the two were staring at each other, and the next, Harry was kissing her, one hand tangling in her hair while the other settled on her waist. Daphne's eyes bugged out. It wasn't a chaste peck or a quick greeting. It was deep and thorough and completely uncaring of the company. Bellatrix let out a small sound of pleasure, melting into him like she belonged there.
Beside Daphne, Astoria made a small squeaking noise. When Daphne glanced at her sister, the younger girl's eyes were wide as saucers, her mouth hanging open in pure shock. Daphne knew she probably looked similar.
When they finally broke apart, Bellatrix looked pleasantly dazed. Harry's hand was still on her waist, keeping her close, and he seemed completely unbothered by their audience.
"How are our three guests settling in?" he asked casually, as if they were discussing the weather rather than whatever the hell this situation was.
Bellatrix's face lit up with enthusiasm. "Oh, Master, they're doing wonderfully. The first few days were a bit rough, of course. Valentina tried to test boundaries twice before she accepted that I was serious about the rules. But once that was sorted, they've been quite cooperative."
She shifted in his arms, her fingers tracing absent patterns on his chest as she spoke. "Nadia's actually been the most interesting. She has this wonderful talent for massage that I've been taking full advantage of. And Isabelle..." Bellatrix's smile turned wicked. "Well, let's just say she's very creative when properly motivated."
"And you think they'll be ready for what I have planned?"
"It's early days yet," Bellatrix admitted, tilting her head thoughtfully. "But yes, I believe so. They're adapting faster than I expected. Another week or two and they should be perfectly suited to the task. I'll admit, Master, I'm going to be rather sad when their month is up. I've grown quite fond of having them around."
Harry chuckled and pulled her in for another kiss, this one shorter but no less intense. When they parted, Bellatrix looked thoroughly satisfied.
"What the fuck is going on?" Daphne whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
Harry turned toward her, Bellatrix still pressed against his front. "That's a long story."
"It must be one hell of a story," Daphne managed, her voice strangled. "Because this makes absolutely no bloody sense."
Harry sighed and gently extracted himself from Bellatrix's embrace. The dark haired witch pouted slightly but didn't protest, moving to lean against the back of the couch. Harry crossed the room and settled into one of the leather armchairs, looking completely relaxed.
Harry began telling her how he encountered Bellatrix, and Daphne listened in silence. Astoria had gone very still beside her, barely breathing as she absorbed Harry's words.
"The details aren't important," Harry continued. "What matters is that circumstances led to her swearing herself to my service. Complete, absolute service. Master and subordinate, in every sense of those words."
He paused, his green eyes meeting Daphne's directly. "And yeah, we're fucking too. It's all part of the arrangement we've got going on. She serves me in every way possible, and she loves doing what she does. In return, I protect and care for her. It works really well for us."
The casual way he said it made Daphne's head spin. This wasn't the Harry Potter she'd known about during their school years. That Harry Potter had been awkward, earnest, and heroic in a traditional sense. This man sitting before her was something else entirely. Confident, powerful, and apparently perfectly comfortable with having Bellatrix fucking Lestrange as his subordinate and lover.
"Who are you?" Daphne asked quietly. The question came out before she could think better of it, but once spoken, she realized it was exactly what she needed to know. "The Harry Potter I knew about... he was nothing like this."
Harry gave her an understanding smile. "People change. War changes people. Power changes people. And I've had a lot of both."
Before Daphne could respond, Astoria began coughing beside her. It started as a small, dry sound but quickly escalated into harsh, wracking spasms that shook her entire body. Daphne immediately turned her full attention to her sister, one hand rubbing circles on her back while the other maintained a steadying grip on her arm.
"Shh, it's alright," Daphne murmured, her voice tight with worry. "Just breathe, Tori. Nice and slow."
Bellatrix was moving before Daphne even registered it. The dark-haired witch crossed the room with surprising speed, her earlier sensuality replaced by focus. She knelt in front of Astoria, her movements gentle as she eased the younger girl back against the couch cushions. Daphne almost lashed out on instinct, but she controlled herself.
"Easy now, little one," Bellatrix said softly. "Let me have a look."
Astoria complied without protest, too weakened by the coughing fit to do much else. Daphne had to control herself once again when Bellatrix drew her wand, and she watched with bated breath as she began running what she recognized as some rather advanced diagnostic spells.
The tip traced patterns in the air above Astoria's body, leaving glowing runes that hung suspended for several seconds before fading. With each pass, more information revealed itself in streams of light.
The process took several minutes. Daphne's nails dug into her palms as she waited, every fiber of her being focused on her sister's pale face. Astoria's breathing had evened out somewhat, but she still looked terrible. Grey undertones had crept into her skin, and her lips had taken on a slightly blue tinge that made Daphne's stomach clench with fear.
Finally, Bellatrix completed her examination and straightened up. With a wave of her wand, she summoned a small vial from somewhere in the suite. The liquid inside was a deep purple that seemed to swirl with its own internal light.
"Drink this, sweetheart," Bellatrix instructed, uncorking the vial and pressing it gently into Astoria's hands. "It'll help you rest."
Astoria looked at the potion, then at Daphne. Her eyes were wide and frightened, silently asking for permission. Daphne wanted to refuse, wanted to grab her sister and run from this madness, but she couldn't. Not when Astoria was this bad. Not when they'd already come this far.
She nodded slowly.
Astoria downed the potion in one swallow, grimacing at what was apparently a foul taste. Within seconds, her eyes began to droop. She tried to fight it, her hand reaching out to clutch at Daphne's arm, but the draught was too strong. Her grip went slack and her eyes closed completely, her breathing evening out as she fell sleep.
"She won't wake until morning," Bellatrix said quietly, adjusting Astoria's position so she was lying more comfortably on the couch. "Best to let her rest before we discuss what I found."
Daphne's heart was already sinking. The careful way Bellatrix had phrased that, the gentleness in her movements, and the fact that she'd put Astoria to sleep before sharing the diagnosis… none of it boded well.
"Tell me," Daphne said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please."
Bellatrix stood and faced her fully. All traces of the seductive, playful woman from earlier had vanished, replaced by someone who looked genuinely troubled. "The blood curse has progressed much further than I suspect you realized. It's not just attacking her magical self anymore. It's beginning to affect her organs as well."
"How bad?" Daphne managed, though she already knew she didn't want to hear the answer.
"Days," Bellatrix said bluntly. "Maybe a week at most. The curse is accelerating, feeding on itself as it spreads through her system. Every time her heart beats, it carries the corruption further. Every breath she takes, the curse strengthens its hold. It's in the final stage."
The words hit Daphne like physical blows. Days. A week at most. After everything they'd survived, all the running and hiding and fighting, Astoria had days left.
"No," Daphne heard herself say. "No, that can't be right. Check again. You must have made a mistake. The healers we've been seeing said she had months. Maybe more if the experimental treatments worked. They said—"
"They were either incompetent or lying to spare your feelings," Bellatrix interrupted, not unkindly. "I'm sorry, but there's no mistake in my diagnosis. The curse has reached a critical stage."
Daphne felt something inside her chest begin to crack. Her breathing came faster, becoming shallower, as if no air arrived into her lungs. The room tilted slightly, or maybe that was just her.
"This can't be happening," she whispered. "Not now. Not after everything. She's supposed to have more time. We were supposed to figure something out. We had plans. We had—"
Harry was suddenly there, his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. Daphne tried to pull away, tried to maintain some semblance of control, but her body wasn't cooperating. The panic was rising in her chest like a living thing, threatening to consume her completely.
"Everything's gone wrong," she gasped out, her vision starting to blur at the edges. "All of it. Everything we've suffered, everything we've sacrificed, it was all for nothing. She's going to die and it's not even her fault. She didn't do anything wrong. She was just born into the wrong family with the wrong bloodline and now she's going to die and I can't—I can't—"
Harry pulled her against his chest before she could finish the thought. His arms wrapped around her firmly, holding her in place even as she struggled against his grip. Daphne pushed at him, trying to break free, but he was stronger than he looked and he didn't let go. He just held her there, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head, his other arm banded around her waist.
"Let go of me," Daphne tried to say, but it came out broken and desperate. "I need to—she can't—"
But Harry didn't release her. He just held on, enduring her struggles until gradually, inevitably, she began to crumble. The fight went out of her all at once, leaving her with nothing but the crushing weight of despair. Her hands stopped pushing and started clutching instead, fisting in his shirt as if he was the only solid thing in a world that was falling apart.
Tears began streaming down her face. She couldn't remember the last time she'd cried like this, openly and without restraint. She'd been so strong for so long, had to be strong for Astoria's sake, but now all that strength was failing her.
"She's going to die," Daphne sobbed against Harry's chest, her eyes fixed on her sister's unconscious form on the couch. "My baby sister is going to die and there's nothing I can do to stop it."
"Yes there is," Harry said quietly, his voice rumbling through his chest where Daphne was pressed against him. "I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure Astoria not only survives this blood curse but gets her normal life back. I vow this to you, Daphne. She will live."
There was such certainty in his voice, such absolute conviction, that Daphne found herself believing him despite everything. She didn't understand why he would make such a promise, what he possibly stood to gain from helping them, but in that moment, she desperately needed to believe that someone could save her sister.
Slowly, carefully, Daphne extracted herself from Harry's embrace. He let her go without protest, his hands falling away from her as she stepped back. She wiped at her face, trying to pull herself together, and forced herself to meet his eyes.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice raw from crying but steady.
Harry's expression remained neutral. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not an idiot," Daphne said flatly. "I know exactly what position I'm in. My sister is dying, and you're telling me you can save her. You wouldn't make an offer like that without wanting something in return. Nothing is free, especially not something this important. So what do you want?"
For a long moment, Harry just looked at her. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We can discuss the specifics later. Right now, what's important is saving your sister's life. Once she's stable and recovering, then we can talk about the rest."
Daphne wanted to argue. Every instinct she had was screaming at her to get this settled now, to know exactly what price she'd be paying before agreeing to anything. But she also recognized the truth in what he was saying. Astoria was dying. They had days at most. Whatever Harry wanted from her, it couldn't possibly be worse than watching her sister slip away.
"Fine," she said quietly. "We'll discuss it later."
"Good," Harry said with a small smile. He turned toward Bellatrix, who had been waiting silently by the windows. "Bella? Can you walk her through what needs to happen?"
Bellatrix moved forward, her expression serious. "The curse can be lifted and your sister can be cured completely. However, the process is going to be extremely painful for her. The ritual required to transfer the curse will feel like her blood is boiling in her veins. It's not an experience anyone should have to endure while conscious."
"Transfer?" Daphne asked, latching onto the word. "You're going to move the curse to someone else?"
"Yes," Bellatrix confirmed. "We can't simply destroy a blood curse of this magnitude without destroying the victim as well. The curse has woven itself too deeply into her magical and physical systems. So instead, we transfer it intact to a different host. Someone who has volunteered for this purpose."
Daphne highly doubted anyone had truly volunteered to take on a fatal blood curse, but she wasn't about to question the ethics of the situation. Not when Astoria's life hung in the balance.
"To keep her from experiencing the pain," Bellatrix continued, "we'll administer the Draught of Living Death before beginning the ritual. She'll be in a state deeper than sleep, completely unaware of what's happening to her body. When she wakes, the curse will be gone."
"How soon can we start?" Daphne asked immediately.
Bellatrix's smile was almost approving. "Right away, if you'd like. I have everything we need already prepared. You can take whatever seat you prefer while Master and I get to work."
Daphne nodded and moved to the armchair Harry had vacated earlier. She sank into it, her entire body feeling numb with exhaustion and residual fear. Her eyes never left her sister's sleeping form.
Harry turned toward her before moving to join Bellatrix. "Sit tight. It'll be over soon."
Daphne nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. But as Harry began to turn away, something made her reach out and catch his hand. He stopped immediately, looking down at where her fingers wrapped around his wrist.
"If you save her," Daphne said quietly, meeting his eyes, "I'll be forever in your debt. Whatever you want from me, I'll give it. No questions, no hesitation. Just save my sister."
Harry regarded her for a long moment. Then he turned fully, his hand rotating to properly grasp hers. His thumb brushed across her knuckles in a gesture that was becoming oddly familiar.
"I'd rather you didn't see this as debt," he said softly. "Think of it instead as the start of something special in your life."
Understanding hit Daphne like a physical force. The implications of those words, the gentle way he was looking at her, and the fact that he'd gone to such lengths to find them in the first place. She opened her mouth to respond, to demand clarification, but Harry gave her hand a soft squeeze and released it before she could form the words.
He walked away, joining Bellatrix who had already moved to stand beside the couch where Astoria slept. Harry gave Daphne one last meaningful glance, his green eyes holding hers for several seconds, before he turned his full attention to her sister.
Daphne sat frozen in the armchair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap and her heart hammering against her ribs as she watched.
Bellatrix summoned another vial, this one containing a thick, opaque liquid that looked almost black in the suite's lighting. She tilted Astoria's head back gently and carefully poured the Draught of Living Death between her lips. Within moments, her breathing slowed to an almost imperceptible level.
Harry and Bellatrix exchanged a firm nod as they drew their wands, and the ritual began.
The first thing Daphne noticed was the appearance of runes. They materialized in the air around Astoria's body, glowing with a soft blue light that gradually intensified. The symbols were ancient, older than anything Daphne had learned at Hogwarts, and they pulsed with a rhythm that seemed to match Astoria's slowed heartbeat.
Harry began chanting in what sounded like Latin, though the pronunciation was strange and archaic. His wand moved in complex patterns, each gesture precise and controlled. As he spoke, more runes appeared, layering over the first set in increasingly intricate configurations.
Bellatrix moved in perfect synchronization with him. Her wand traced counter patterns to Harry's, creating a web of light that surrounded Astoria completely. Where their magic intersected, the light flared brighter, and Daphne could feel the raw power radiating from them even from across the room.
A door Daphne hadn't noticed before opened, and two figures entered. One was a man in what looked like prison robes, his face slack and his movements mechanical. The other was a young, dark-haired woman who guided the prisoner with a curious look on her face. She noticed the woman smile uncertainly when Harry looked at her before she bowed her head in respect.
Daphne understood immediately. This was the host. The person who would receive Astoria's curse.
The woman positioned the prisoner on a second couch that had been conjured opposite Astoria's. The man lay down without protest, his eyes vacant. Whatever they'd done to him, he was beyond caring about what was going to happen.
Harry's chanting intensified, and new runes appeared, these ones red rather than blue as they began forming a bridge between Astoria and the prisoner. Bellatrix's wand work grew more elaborate, her movements flowing like a deadly dance as she wove protections and channels for the curse to follow.
The air itself seemed to thicken with magic. Daphne could feel it pressing against her skin, making it hard to breathe. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees, and frost began forming on the windows.
Then the transfer began.
A thin stream of something dark and viscous emerged from Astoria's chest. It looked almost solid, like corrupted blood given physical form. The stream writhed and twisted as it moved through the network of runes, fighting against the magic that constrained it. But Harry and Bellatrix's combined power was too strong. The curse followed the path they'd laid for it, moving inevitably toward its new host.
Daphne watched in horrified fascination as the dark substance flowed into the prisoner's chest. The man's body jerked once, violently, before it went still again. The curse continued transferring, more and more of it leaving Astoria's body with each passing second.
The ritual went on for what felt like hours but was probably closer to only a couple. Harry and Bellatrix never faltered, never broke their concentration despite the obvious strain the magic was putting on them both. Sweat beaded on Harry's forehead, and Bellatrix's hands trembled slightly as she maintained the intricate wand movements, but neither of them stopped.
Finally, the last of the dark substance left Astoria's body and settled into the prisoner. The runes flared bright enough to make Daphne squint before they vanished all at once. Harry and Bellatrix both lowered their wands simultaneously, their shoulders sagging slightly with exhaustion.
"You can take him away, Isabelle," Harry said with a smile, and the woman bowed low before she moved forward and levitated the now cursed prisoner. The man's face had already taken on a grey pallor, his breathing labored. He'd be dead within days, Daphne realized distantly, consumed by the same curse that would have killed her sister.
She found she didn't care.
The moment the woman, Isabelle, and prisoner disappeared, Daphne shot out of the armchair. She crossed the distance to the couch in three strides, nearly colliding with Harry in her haste. Her hands hovered over Astoria's still form, afraid to touch her, afraid this wasn't real.
Bellatrix had already vanished through the door, but Daphne barely registered her departure. All of her attention was fixed on her sister.
"Is it done?" she asked, her voice breaking on the last word. "Is she—"
Harry raised his wand and began casting diagnostic charms. Golden light washed over Astoria's body, revealing information that made Daphne's breath catch in her throat. The results floated in the air between them.
No trace of the blood curse remained. Astoria's magic was intact and stable. Her organs showed signs of damage, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with conventional potions.
"She'll feel weak for a while," Harry said quietly, his own voice rough with exhaustion. "She needs to remain in this resting state for at least another day or two. And then we'll give her the potions to heal her organs. But yes, Daphne. She'll survive."
Daphne didn't realize she was crying again until the tears blurred her vision. She reached out with trembling hands and gathered her sister into her arms, cradling Astoria against her chest.
"Thank you," Daphne whispered, the words entirely inadequate for what she was feeling. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
Harry said nothing. He just stood there, watching them with a small smile, until Daphne's tears had slowed and she'd regained some measure of composure. Then he quietly excused himself and left the room, shutting the door and giving them privacy.
-Break-
The sitting area of the suite was dimly lit and quiet. Harry leaned against the wall and took a moment to relax. The ritual had taken more out of him than he'd expected, and he could still feel the residual magic thrumming through his system.
Bellatrix appeared at his side almost immediately, having finished with Isabelle and the prisoner. She pressed against him without hesitation, her head resting on his chest.
"Are you sure about this, Master?" she asked quietly. "That she's to be the one?"
Harry nodded slowly. "A pureblood Slytherin who had to flee her country, returning as my wife. It'll be the perfect narrative. The masses will rally behind it, and it'll give my image the exact boost it needs for what's coming."
Bellatrix hummed thoughtfully. "If Cissy was the one who planned this, then you can't really go wrong with it. She has excellent political instincts." She paused before looking up at him. "But do you think she'll accept the other women in your life? The ones you have now and the ones you'll have after the marriage?"
"Let me handle that," Harry said firmly. He pulled her closer and kissed her, deep and thorough, until she was making those small pleased sounds he'd come to enjoy. When he pulled back, she looked appropriately dazed. "Right now, we need to focus on making sure she agrees in the first place."
"She will," Bellatrix said with absolute certainty. "You saved her sister's life. She'd agree to almost anything at this point. She said so herself, remember?"
Harry hummed noncommittally and extracted himself from her embrace. He picked up the mug of tea that had been waiting on a nearby table. Bella's special blend, the one she always made exactly how he liked it.
"Give us some time," he said, already heading back toward the suite's bedroom door.
The discussion that was about to follow was important, and whatever happened, his life was going to get significantly more complicated.
But as he'd learned over the years, complexity often led to the most interesting outcomes.
TBC.
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