Penthuisiast
patreon
SD: CH24 - Accursed Blood
🕑 Added 2022-11-19 19:15:30 +0000 UTCEver been stabbed with a kitchen knife? Not nicked, or cut by it, but stabbed, like all the way to the hilt? If you have, I hope you got medical aid. If you haven’t, then believe me, it hurts a fucking lot.
I screamed and screamed as every single nerve in my body flared, my eyes threatening to bulge out of my sockets, my nostrils wet and bloody and dripping with blood. Every single hair on my body was standing erect, but nothing, nothing compared to the feeling of knives stabbing into my body. If this was how the cruciatus was supposed to feel, I totally get why they’re called unforgivable. Unfortunately for me, it wasn’t the cruciatus.
It was the real thing.
“GAAAAH!” I screamed, my fingers digging into the couch, using it to remain standing. Something told me that if I fell, I’d die. I was no stranger to pain, what with the way my previous life ended. My daily morning spars with Hermione in the morning often left an occasional bruise and lacerations. Naturally, when Walburga had warned me that the path to Black Lordship would be a cruise through pain, I had come in expecting bruises. Maybe welts. Perhaps even a cracked rib or two.
Instead, I had… this.
There was a belt wrapped over my upper torso, right from my left shoulder, climbing down diagonally down to my waist. I use the term ‘belt’ loosely, because it had no frame, prong or loop. Instead, it was a mesh of animal tissue and skin, extracted from an immensely rare and powerful magical animal called the Barghest. Haven’t heard of it before? It’s what JKR referred to in her story as the ‘Grim’. And no, Sirius’s animagus was no barghest. From what Walburga told me, the average barghest was easily the size of a grizzly and had myriad magical powers, with shapeshifting being the most common. The moment I had worn this belt around my body and chanted the incantation Walburga had made me memorise to heart, thick, bony teeth had erupted out of the belt and dug themselves into my freaking skin, drawing blood. Hence the comparison.
“Pathetic!” scoffed Walburga, as the wraith stood on the floor, looking at me with acute disdain in her eyes. “Your mewling shows your inferiority! Stand up straight and accept the pain as your own.”
“How the FUCK does this help me become the Black Lord, you sadistic bitch?”
There was a sharp hissing sound, and Walburga lifted her left hand, fingers spread. She spat something under her breath, and several more teeth erupted out of the belt and tore into me. I threw my head back and bawled my lungs out.
“If this shakes the would-be Lord, I shudder to think what will happen to the Black name after you wield it.”
“Fucking bitch!” I yelled. “I’ll be a corpse at this rate!”
“Your exaggerations do you no favour. None of your wounds are fatal.”
That… was true. The deep gashes on my upper torso, as terrible and painful as they were, were perfectly curable by the application of Vulnera Sanentur, an advanced healing spell she had made me practise before beginning this… madness. I had to cast the spell thrice — the first to slow the blood flow, preventing death by exsanguination. The second was to clear residue and begin healing, and the third to fully knit the injured tissue, with an additional touch of dittany to prevent scarring.
Unless I remembered it wrong, it was also the same spell Snape used to heal a bloodied Draco Malfoy after Harry had cast Sectumsempra at him in his sixth year in the books.
Still. They hurt. A lot. Doubly because the belt was literally guzzling up my blood and my magic, making me feel physiologically and magically weak. It’d continue to do so until there was the absolute minimum of both in me, and then it’d let me go free. Walburga had already made me purchase a gallon of blood-replenishing potion; several vials of the incredibly expensive Draught of Blossoms, a thick-golden potion that felt strangely familiar for whatever reason; and a vial set of Wiggenweld potion, just in case things went crazy, and he needed a ‘pickup’. I wasn’t sure if I could trust Hestia over this, so I had Dobby purchase them for me. Turns out house-elves could perfectly enter Gringotts to draw out money from their masters’ vaults.
Why was I doing this, you ask? Because Walburga said I had to keep performing the ritual for as long as it took for my blood to ‘sink in’ to the belt.
“Now man up!” The wraith snapped. “Cease this weakling behaviour!”
I swallowed the curse that was forming on my lips with difficulty. Instead, I settled for just glaring at her.
“What good will this do?” I snarled. “Apart from torturing and bleeding me out?”
“Everything,” said Walburga. “We Blacks are the children of the Coyote. It is said that the Navajo Holy Ones cursed our ancestors, forcing them to live in Ni’ Hodithil, the First Dark World, where their powers mutated to become shapeshifters. They called them Yenaldooshi, dark sorcerers with twisted abilities. It is this curse that lies at the root of the Black Family Magic. It is the power of this curse that manifests through this pelt you wear and detest, and it is this curse that allows an ordinary scion to transform into the Black Lord. Between now and the time of the ritual, the Pelt will drink your blood and quench its thirst, and use your power to prepare its curse. And when the Accursed Night arrives, it will poison your skin, your blood and your soul. If you give it what it wants, it will curse you with the stench of the yenaldooshi. The power that lies at the core of a true Black Lord.”
I didn’t have the strength to narrow my eyes. It had taken everything just to stay focussed on her words, praying that my eidetic memory would help me keep everything she had told me.
“And… what does it want?”
Walburga gave me a sinister smile. “That is for me to know and you to find out.”
I gnashed my teeth. Here I was, willingly bleeding out on her word, and she was playing mind-games with me.
“Fine…” I breathed, “Tell me this… Why are you helping me? What about… Malfoy?”
Walburga sneered. “Lucius’s brat! As if that ponce has any business becoming the Lord Black. I was always against marrying sweet Narcissa with that family. No history, no culture, just a bunch of backstabbers, swindlers and gold-diggers that got themselves a family name. As if the name Malfoy means anything to the true wizard!”
Even in my half-addled state, I remembered Narcissa saying something about her not accepting Walburga’s proposal. Had Walburga Black really been against the marriage? But if not Lucius, then—
“You didn’t want her to marry—”
“Of course not!” She snapped. “We’re Blacks. Her mother was a Rosier, true, but the Black blood flows deep within her. She was a staunch believer of Toujours Pur. If only my son Sirius had been a little malleable to our goals, but that blasted Dumbledore ate his head with his puritanical nonsense! Sirius and Narcissa, Regulus and Bellatrix. Why, if my son Polaris would have lasted to see his seventeenth birthday, he could’ve married Andromeda. They’d have led the world into a magical utopia.”
Her expression darkened. “Instead, look at what happened! Dearest Narcissa, vainly toiling for Lucius’s attention. As if that poseur ever had eyes for anyone but himself! My precious Bellatrix! Sold off for gold. As if the Lestranges ever had the eyes or the capability to see her for the gem she was. At least the Dark Lord wasn’t a fool! I had hopes for Bellatrix bedding the Dark Lord! He was no Black, but the fusion of the Blacks with the heir of Slytherin would be formidable.”
I laughed. It came out as a mix of a snort and a cough, but I did it anyway. “Heir of Slytherin!” I laughed again. “The Dark Lord is the offspring of a Gaunt Squib and a muggle!”
Walburga spun at me, her dark eyes locked on mine. She slowly floated towards me until her face was inches away from mine.
“What. Did you say?”
“The Dark Lord,” I coughed again. “Son of a Gaunt squib. Merope Gaunt. Daughter of… Marvolo Gaunt, and Tom Riddle, a muggle. He was a muggle born. In Slytherin. Tom Marvolo Riddle.”
“You. Lie.”
My eyes were shutting down, but I smirked at her hiss.
“I speak. Truth.”
“And how do you know that?”
“That.” It was my turn to smile. “Is for me to know, and you to find out.”
Walburga was not amused.
When I returned home from Grimmauld Place, it was already past eight in the evening. The potions had me sleeping for five long hours, during which they replenished me and brought me back to my fullest capacity. Dobby had gotten me a steak dinner which I’d had there, listening to more of Walburga’s rants, with the occasional useful titbit that my mind filed away for later. I had also tried summoning Slytherin’s locket, but to no avail. Either the locket was enchanted against summoning, or my spell was simply not powerful enough to fetch it out of whatever trunk it was stored in. There was a third possibility, one that I absolutely refused to entertain, and that was that the Locket wasn’t in the house. For whatever reason, Walburga absolutely clammed up when it came to Regulus, probably because I had inquired about him multiple times. Well, that… or there was something else she wasn’t willing to share with me.
Seriously, I was there to find answers, but all I was getting were more questions.
At least things were going well between Hermione and Hestia.
Hermione had interrogated me about my business at Grimmauld Place, but I had done a good job of staying shut. Hestia, playing true to her role as my secretary, hadn’t voiced her opinion, but I could see the gears in her mind arriving to multiple conclusions. It was probably for the best that Hestia had stayed outside, keeping my encounter and subsequent discussions with Walburga a complete secret. Of course, Dobby knew, but there was no way they were going to get him to speak without my permission.
Dobby took his Alfred-ing seriously.
After having a bath, I headed for the kitchen to get something to drink. That was when I heard them talking. As I turned a corner, I found Hestia sitting with a cup of coffee in front of her, and a beer in front of Hermione, laughing like two girlfriends should. Hestia saw me first, and smiled at me, one of the biggest smiles I had seen on her face — discounting the blowjob, that is.
“There he is,” she claimed, “hey Harry, how’s it hanging?”
Both girls burst out laughing at her innuendo. I couldn’t help but smile as I walked past them behind the kitchen bar to the refrigerator to pull out a beer myself.
“Talking about me, huh?” I asked. “Should I be afraid or excited?”
“Afraid,” said Hermione.
“Excited,” said Hestia.
And then both of them burst out laughing again.
“Hestia and I had a nice, long talk about you, Harry,” said Hermione. “I never knew there was so much to explore about sex. She’s promised to teach me everything she knows, in return for…” she turned to Hestia, “how did you put it again?”
“Mind-bending, toe-curling, cunt-spasming, dirty sex with your boyfriend?”
“Right, that.” Hermione said, “And she told me how she’s yet to have her first time with that thick, juicy cock inside her.”
“Absolutely,” Hestia smirked at me, licking her lips. “I’ve yet to be… under my boss.”
“Well don’t let me hold you back.” Hermione smirked. “What about you, Harry?”
“Works for me,” I said, glancing at her to check if she was really consenting to it. I knew for a fact that she’d not deny me sex with anyone else, but to see her actively encourage Hestia was surprising.
“Now I’m off to bed, so you two can enjoy yourselves,” Hermione said, turning to walk to her room. “And oh yes,” she said, stopping and turning back around to face us, “use silencing charms, please.” She tapped at her ears. “Werewolf senses.”
Hestia looked over at me and grinned. “So, your room or mine?”
…
…
…
We chose her room. The moment we were inside and had dutifully cast the silencing charm, Hestia leaped into my arms, her lips meeting mine fiercely. My lips parted, and she forced her sinewy tongue into my mouth. Our tongues mashed together, our saliva mashing together as I made out with my hot secretary. Her hands clawed at my bare back as mine surrounded her, putting one on her back and the other taking a greedy handful of her juicy arse. Her body pressed roughly into mine as she backed me until my back hit a wall hard, causing the wall decorations to rattle. As she sucked on mine, our lips mashed together forcefully. I let my other hand slide down to cup her arse as well, squeezing it roughly. I pulled my lips from hers and leaned down to her neck, sucking at it.
"Oh, fuck!" she moaned out, clawing at my scalp. She rubbed her hands along my firmly muscled back appreciatively. I nibbled at her neck fiercely, grinding against her as I did so. "Sir… Oh, yes, Sir… hold on…. wait." I kept going, ignoring her attempts.
“Harry!” she called out, forcing my head back, so I was staring at her lust-filled face. She was gasping hard as we shared this moment. Finally, she spoke up.
"Harry!" she husked. "Fuck me!"
Seething with lust, I reached down and took the back of her knees and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around my hips as her lips met mine again. The smell of her perfume hit my nose, and the pleasure I was feeling made her feel weightless in my arms. Muscles flexing, I walked towards the bed, making out with her as I did. Once we got there, I let her go, as she looked at me with lust in her eyes. She took a hold of the front of my shorts and pulled it down.
"Morgana!” she said, her eyes going cross-eyed as she stared down the length of my thick meat. For a few moments, she studied it, appreciating its size. "I know I sucked it earlier, but Merlin’s balls, that’s the biggest fucking cock I've ever seen!" she gasped out in awe. She tilted her head, studying it from different angles. "Morgana, look at those balls." She mused to herself.
"Is this what you want?" I asked, “Sucking my balls again?”
“Oh yes,” she said hurriedly, kicking off her heels as she ripped out her tucked in blouse and began to furiously unbutton it. "I have got to suck your cock." she gasped out.
“You don’t want me to fuck you?” I asked cockily.
She smiled wickedly. “We have the entire night to ourselves, don’t we?”
Her fingers deftly unbuttoned her blouse, till finally, she ripped apart her blouse, exposing her bra-clad breasts to me. The bra was snug on her, making her breasts practically explode out of it. Her nipples showed through the lacy black fabric, and the overworked bra-straps dug into her shoulders. I looked at her sexy thin belly, and another rush went through me.
She tugged on her thin skirt, and as she did, more and more of her tiny black panties emerged. Her skirt puddled at her feet, leaving her clad in only her black bra, black thong panties, and dark stockings. I shook my head at this. Hestia lacked Narcissa’s curves, but she had a far more athletic body. She wasn’t skinny in the same way as Tracey was. There was a definition in her arms and stomach, and her legs looked nice and strong. I wondered how it’d feel to bend her in half, something I couldn’t do with Hermione or Narcissa very well, because of their large breasts. Deftly, Hestia unhooked her bra, and her breasts burst forward, causing her bra to spring down from her arms onto the floor. It was one thing to see her cleavage peeking out of her shirt when she had blown me, and to see the goods first hand."You like?" she teased, grinning proudly, cupping her arm under her jugs.
"Love ‘em," I replied, as she bent over to slide her thigh-highs down. "Leave them on." I ordered, and she smiled lustily and obeyed. She moved towards me and got on her knees in front of me, between my spread legs. She put her hands on my bare thighs and slid them upward. I sighed in pleasure as I felt her fingers curl around the base of my shaft. Her mouth opened in a sigh as she gazed at my throbbing cock and gave it a slow stroke.
"Oh my, Merlin! I’m in love with your cock!” she moaned.
“Is that why you’re my secretary?” I asked. “Dumbledore put you to spy on me, but look at you, sitting naked before me, thirsty for my cock!”
“Yes!”With that, she lowered her head towards my crotch, putting all her focus on my cock. Her mouth opened and as I felt her warm breath on the tip of my cock, my head fell back. I glanced back down just in time to see her open mouth surrounding my dick, allowing it entrance. Her tongue grazed along the bottom of my shaft, dripping spit, her plump lips closed around it, forming a perfect seal. Her tongue mashed against the underside, and her cheeks hollowed as she sucked. "Fuck!” I grunted out, my cock halfway in her mouth. Her tongue was swirling, and she lowered her mouth even farther on my dick, inhaling my cock.
"Fuck!" I grunted again, resting my hand on her head as she bobbed on my shaft. “You’re one nasty cocksucker, Hestia!”
She lifted her mouth off my dick, the top half soaked with her spit. “With a cock like this,” she panted out, “how could I not?” She resumed sucking me, attacking my cock fiercely, choking herself on my sizable meat.
I’m not exaggerating when I say this. Hestia was damn good at this. She sucked my cock hard, inhaling it like she meant it. She bobbed deeply and smoothly, taking more of my cock down her throat, sucking on it like it was the best thing she had ever tasted. She revelled in the act, as if she was born to do this. The sensation of her plump lips wrapped around my shaft was almost enough to make me lose it. She looked up, holding my gaze as she attacked my pole. And she was not afraid. She knew how to do it and do it right. She attacked my cock like a starving woman, sucking long and hard, trying to savour every bit of flavour it provided, utterly unflinching in her efforts as she gave me a deep, smooth, wet and hard blowjob, her spit dripping down my shaft to my balls.
I looked up at the mirror next to my door. The reflection I saw was thrilling. Me, naked, a light sheen of sweat coating me, and my firm, lean muscles. The only part obscured in the reflection was my cock. And that was because of the kneeling figure in front of me. Looking at the reflection, I saw the back of the brown-haired woman's head bobbing in my lap, not seeing her face, just watching her work. Seeing her hair fall onto my thighs and her being so engrossed in sucking my dick that she didn't bother tucking it behind her ears affirmed in my mind what a sex-vixen she truly was. Her firm, bare back looked stunningly sexy. She was up on her knees, her hands clawing at my thighs as she blew me. But the best part of seeing this reflection was getting my first good look at her thong-clad arse as it directly faced the mirror. The black string threading between her cheeks was microscopic, so her arse was practically bared to me. Each cheek was round and full and fleshy in just the right way. Hers was an arse you just wanted to grab and squeeze and not take your hands off of. In her position, her cheeks parted naturally. I could see her arsehole behind the tiny piece of string, and it looked nice and hot and tight. Seeing her so exposed, having her kneeling in my bedroom, exposing her arsehole to me, it was a thrilling sight. It pulled me from my admiration of her body when she pulled her mouth off my cock with a smack and panted her wet, open mouth against my ball-sack.
Before I knew it, she pushed me back onto the bed as her tongue ran up my body. She climbed onto the bed, her tongue running up the middle of my chest. As she crawled up my body, her fingers ran over my lithe frame, grazing my stomach and chest. A shiver ran through me as her tongue ran across my neck. As her tongue entered my open mouth, she let her weight fall onto me. Her bare chest was now against mine as our mouths mashed against each other again. I planted my hands on her arse and squeezed it roughly in my palms. I let my fingers run presumptuously into the crack of her arse, teasing her a bit before letting my hands rise to her waist. With a jerk, I tugged at her underwear. Continuing to make out, we crawled up the bed until I was laid out completely on the mattress. She followed, pulling her thong off as she crawled with me.
Finally, she pulled her lips off of mine and she looked down at me, her tits pressed into my bare chest, her nipples hard as rocks. With a smile, she got up on her knees, now kneeling on me, and put her hands on her hips.
“Ready for the real thing?” I asked.
Smiling wickedly, she reached down and took my shaft in her hand again, pointing it upward. She swiveled her hips, positioning her dripping, bare cunt over my towering cock. She slapped the head of it against her puffy lips and raised an eyebrow at me.
“Oh yes, I am,” she purred. “But tell me, are you?”
