Child of Destiny

As the Order gathered around the table, Dumbledore took his seat in the center and gestured for Bellatrix and Harry to sit opposite. She did, setting Harry in her lap as she sat and smiling down at him as he nestled his head into her cleavage. Lily, her breasts still defiantly bared, pushed a young auror out of the way to sit directly next to them, seemingly trying her best to both look across the table at Dumbledore and push her boobs out enticingly towards Harry.

James nervously took the seat on his wife’s other side.

They waited quietly for everyone to shuffle in and arrange themselves around the messy dining room table. When everyone had settled in, still grumbling about all the rush and hubbub over a lost boy who had come back on his own, Dumbledore motioned for quiet.

“Now then, Harry, would you please explain to us what happened tonight?”

And he did. Harry calmly explained to the now silent table that Voldemort had indeed been defeated and many of his most important followers along with him, though the Malfoys managed to escape despite the meeting being in their own Manor. The blonde haired weasels were notoriously slippery and it was likely that even having the Dark Lord himself along with about three dozen of the most ardent carriers of his brand living and meeting under their roof wouldn’t be enough to see them convicted for anything more than being a victim of Imperius brainwashing. Harry had never actually met any of the Malfoy’s personally, he had only left home for the first time that night after all, but that the whole family was a pack of snooty lickspittles was another of those things he simply knew. Chosen One business.

Wherever his knowledge came from, the Order couldn’t help but agree that his assessment of the Malfoy family was stunningly accurate.

Harry neatly sidestepped the “how” of the miraculous defeat of the most powerful Dark Lord in a century by a toddler still attached to his mother’s breasts to avoid any lengthy explanations on his awe inspiring abilities and intimate knowledge of magicks forgotten and fantastic. Especially all that forbidden arcana he wasn’t supposed to know about. He was special. Probably best to leave it at that.

Moving right along, he glossed over his battle with Voldemort, ignoring the slack jawed stares he got from the supposed adults in the room, and on to what was actually important.

“Voldemort is dead, his followers crushed,” his voice turned sheepish for the first time, and he seemed to be trying to look like the innocent little boy he was supposed to be, “but it seems I made a small error.”

Dumbledore steepled his hands on the table in a way that was probably supposed to be grandfatherly but mostly made him look like he was compensating for something.

“It’s all right, my boy, you’ve already done quite enough.”

Harry chuckled a little ruefully and probably would have scraped his hands through his messy hair if his head hadn’t been bracketed by Bella’s generous chest.

“Magic was counselling patience to me, holding me back from striking at Voldemort in order to better fulfill some aspect of my destiny. I did not believe that the reason was weakness; I would count myself more than a match for the old cod, magically speaking.”

Bella nodded emphatically in support of that, which drew every eye at the table due to the way her head bobbing made her bust jiggle like a bowl of jelly. Harry hummed as his ears were massaged by her rippling breast meat.

When her tits stopped bouncing, he continued.

“I was right about that. I’m not sure how that runt managed to earn himself the title ‘Dark Lord.’ There wasn’t much to him all told. I can be certain Magic wasn’t staying my hand for weakness. I think she was poking fun at my ignorance.”

Lily cut in, turning fully to face her son,“Ignorance? My baby, you must be the most gifted genius of magic since Merlin himself. Maybe even more than him! What more could you possibly need to know?”

If the way she said “my baby” had a little more emphasis than necessary no one chose to comment on it, or the pointed look she gave Bellatrix. If she might have also whipped around a little more forcefully than was strictly necessary, perhaps in order to put some jiggle into her own boobs and maybe prove that they could shake as nicely as anyone else’s in the room, no one chose to comment on that either.

The sheepish rogue drained instantly from his face to be replaced with frosty severity. His voice could have frozen a campfire solid.

“I’m not omniscient, mother. Just because I know more than you doesn’t mean I know everything. Much of what I know I reasoned out for myself. There are certainly things I know I would never threaten a child with even without being a parent. Some things are just obvious.”

Lily’s lip, and tits, trembled, “Oh, baby, don’t do this to me! Mummy is so-”

“To continue,” Harry said coldly, “There were some things that, if I had perhaps moderated myself, would have become clear to me given a little more experience and time. One thing in particular which would have saved us all a bit of trouble.”

That rueful grin worked its way back onto his face, “Namely, I should have been able to recognize Voldemort had made Horcruxes.”

Dumbledore jumped at that term, but everyone else at the table just looked confused. Except Bella, who was idly patting Harry’s hair and smiling secretly to herself, and Lily, who looked to be deciding whether she most wanted to cry or wipe that smile off the other woman’s face.

Harry and Dumbledore’s gazes met and they looked levelly at each other for a long, stretching moment until they seemed to agree on something unspoken. No more secrets.

“I drove the Dark Lord from his body,” Harry said, “but his soul is tied to this world. If I had known a bit more, I would have been able to recognize the meaning of the ritual changes his body had undergone and destroyed him and his soul in one go rather than merely forcing him from his current host.”

James spoke for the first time, “Does that mean the Dark Lord could come back?”

Dumbledore answered, “In the form we have come to know him, Tom Riddle has been destroyed. But the fractures of his soul linger on. I think under the circumstances, we can assume that what remains will almost certainly return to face his fated opposite once more.”

“Sorry about that one folks,” Harry tried to scratch his head but found his hand blocked by a wall of boob meat. He settled for squeezing Bella instead, “I doubt the next confrontation will go any better for the old codger than it did for him this time, but it might be a bit of nuisance when he comes snooping back.”

He tried his best to look cute, “I’m still young, I hope you all can forgive me my rashness.”

Considering that the boy had just ended several years of war in a single, bloodless (for them anyway) battle, no one present seemed to think there was much to forgive.

“Mr. Potter and I will be working closely to monitor the fragments of the late Dark Lord’s soul when they show themselves. I believe that with both of us working together, we can quietly and safely dispose of what remains of Voldemort without causing a panic,” Dumbledore said.

That sounded extremely reasonable and a fine solution for the problem at hand. After all, who better to bring about the final defeat of the Dark Lord than the most knowledgeable wizard of the century and the Chosen One? Conveniently, it was also the solution that meant no one else had to do any more work. Everyone was quickly content with the sensible plan they had come up with.

With that, everything seemed to have been wrapped up nicely. Congratulatory murmurs bubbled up around the table and the Order started to stand and stretch, satisfied that things were well in hand.

“Now just wait a minute!”

Lily’s chair clattered to the floor as she leapt to her feet, which did wonderful things to her breasts.

“That’s all well and good,” she growled, “but I think we’re missing the more important questions here.” No one else seemed to find the demise of the most terrible Dark Lord since Grindelwald unimportant, but a look at Lily’s face informed them that it would be wise not to say so.

Lily jabbed an accusing finger at the woman on her right. “In case you’ve all forgotten, Bellatrix Lestrange is a Death Eater and a criminal. She’s earned a lifetime in Azkaban and about three centuries more! She’s committed crimes second only to the Dark Lord’s himself. It’s our duty to throw her over to the Ministry and make sure she’s tried for every one of them.”

Everyone turned to Bellatrix expectantly, as if suddenly remembering all that for themselves (they can be forgiven for forgetting in all the excitement) and several began to finger wands again. But it wasn’t Bellatrix who spoke in her defence.

“Bellatrix Lestrange was a Death Eater and a devoted follower of a Dark Lord, both crimes that by rights would earn her a hundred years in the deepest, darkest pit that can be dug. She was a dangerous, sadistic killer who could not be allowed to roam free” Harry said calmly, “so it is fortunate for the world that she died tonight along with her master.”

The entire table started at that, eyes flickering to that familiar face which had been plastered on almost as many wanted posters as the Dark Lord himself. There was no mistaking that face. It had been writ large over every newspaper in the country for years, always accompanied by descriptions of crimes more disgustingly heinous than could be countenanced or imagined.

Harry ignored them, “I count myself lucky to have never met the woman, and indeed, if she were here, it would be our moral obligation to seize her and take her to trial to answer for her crimes. However, the woman providing you all with a wonderful view of her breasts is not Bellatrix Lestrange, despite the coincidence of their similar faces and shared first name.”

He looked around the table, daring anyone to contradict him, “She introduced herself to me as Bellatrix Black and I can assure you she is no Death Eater.”

Harry looked up at the bare chested woman expectantly.

“Oh! Yes, of course, here.”

Bella politely laid her arm on the table and pulled up her sleeve for inspection, revealing nothing but perfect, silky skin. Dumbledore leaned forward, his wand flashing into his hands while he muttered under his breath, staring intently at her upper arm. A tense minute passed as his brow furrowed and his mutterning became more intense. Another minute passed. More muttering. The tension was suffocating. Dumbledore waved his hands mystically.

Finally, he sat back looking slightly confused.

“Harry speaks the truth. She does not carry the Dark Mark, and, as far as I can tell, she never did.”

The table erupted.

Harry decided that they didn’t need to know that Bella had not actually introduced herself out loud, but rather he had peered briefly into her soul and divined her True Name from it. In his view that was a much stronger argument in her favor than anything the woman might have said or done, but he doubted anyone but Dumbledore would understand it.

There were calls for someone to locate Sirius as quickly as possible and bring him to confirm with the Lord’s ring if this woman was truly part of his house. Runners went to the Floo immediately to search for the Lord Black.

Lily looked ready to kill Bellatrix, whatever her last name. She wasn’t alone in that, but her reasons for hating her probably had more to do with the young boy who was playfully teasing her nipples with his hand than the various crimes the woman had committed. Bella giggled at Harry’s treatment. Lily twitched toward her wand.

Other than the occasional sound of breast play coming from Bella and Harry, the room was utterly silent while they waited. No one was quite sure what to think. This woman was Bellatrix Lestrange, she must be. And yet, she carried no Dark Mark and Lestrange had been confirmed to have one several times. Moreover, many in the room had seen the mad right hand of the Death Eaters; some had even fought her. There was no way to reconcile the criminally violent and certifiably insane servant of the Dark Lord with the docile pillow girl playing mummy with the Chosen One. It was impossible for Bellatrix Black to be anyone else than Bellatrix Lestrange. And yet, this woman being Bellatrix Lestrange was even more impossible than that.

The clock ticked out the seconds loudly.

Finally, the Floo flared green and Sirius Black rushed into the room, looking as if he had run a great distance. His hair was practically on end and his clothes were rumpled and wildly askew. He stumbled briskly into the room, patting the soot off his coat. He froze abruptly once his eyes landed on the woman sitting at the middle of the table. His gaze flickered down from her face to the child on her lap and he did a double take as he recognized his godson.

Blowing a deep breath out through his mustache, he decided just to do what he had to and ask questions later. There had been a lot of running around in the hours since he had gotten the alert that Harry was missing. This wasn’t the worst scenario he could have imagined resulting from it, but it was certainly not one he had anticipated.

Stepping around the silent table, he stopped next to Bellatrix’s chair.

“Hello, cousin,” he said.

She nodded placidly at him, “My Lord Black.”

He grimaced, “We’ll see about that.”

He laid his right hand on her head, the heavy ring of House Black resting on his third finger. There was a faint pulse of something that seemed to come from that ancient sigil, and then something pulsed in Bellatrix, almost in resonance. To anyone but Harry and Dumbledore, the interaction was silent and faint.

After a long silence, Sirius pulled back his hand looking slightly constipated.

“She’s a Black.”

The room positively exploded with noise.

There was a great clattering as three dozen witches and wizards leapt from their chairs, all shouting and pointing and yelling at each other. All the tension of the night boiled over them and released in a torrent of arguing that drowned itself out until all that could be heard was a wash of white noise. Everyone seemed to just be tired of sitting around silently and were finally getting to say what they had been holding in.

Harry let everyone go on for a minute or two. It seemed very cathartic for them.

“Now that that’s quite finished, there’s one more thing we must attend to before we adjourn for the night.”

Everyone froze where they were. He never raised his voice a notch, but Harry’s words cut through the noise like a knife and silenced the rush in an instant.

“If you will sit down, mother, there’s something we need to discuss.”

Suddenly looking nervous at being singled out, she chewed her lip as she righted her chair (which required her to bend over, letting her girls hand free in a way that just made you want to grab them) and sat.

Harry nodded, “Bella, Lily, would the two of you please face each other?”

Despite the polite request it was framed as, everyone in the room heard it for the order it was.

Grudgingly, the two women twisted their upper bodies to face the other. Bella’s serene mask cracked for the time that night as she was forced to confront the person she considered her greatest nemesis. As far as she was concerned, Lily had lost her chance to be Harry’s mummy and the job was hers by right. Lily’s snarl informed her that the title of Harry’s mummy was not going to go uncontested. The rest of the room leaned away from the sparks coming out of their eyes.

Harry was the only one that seemed not to notice that his two mommies seemed ready to go for each other’s throats.

“None of that, thank you. The two of you are going to be spending much time together from now on and I expect you to get along.”

Both started to protest at once.

“But!-”

“She’s the one who-”

He silenced them both with a wave of his hand.

“The two of you will get along.”

The look he gave them brooked no compromises. Both women were still on edge, but they flinched away from his penetrating stare. Those eyes seemed to weigh them on a scale and neither wanted to come up light in his estimation. Beneath his gaze, they looked like squabbling schoolgirls. They squirmed anxiously in their seats.

“Now, kiss and make up.”

They glared at each other, two jungle cats with their hackles raised. Their eyes met with a primal, animal ferocity that would have been more appropriate on cave women than cultured witches. It is doubtful anyone in the room would have been surprised if one of them pulled out a bone club and brained the other with it.

But, in the end, Harry had ordered it. There was only one thing to do.

Lily snarled like a cornered lioness and lunged at Bellatrix. She slammed their mouths together in the most violent, nastiest lesbian lip lock any at the table had ever seen. Lily grabbed tight fistfuls of Bellatrix’s black curls and the other woman responded in kind, threading her hands roughly into her red mane to crush their faces even tighter together.

Throaty growls that sounded something like a pair of nundus challenging each other’s mating grounds issued from their throats along with deep moans of reluctant pleasure. They smashed their lips together hard enough to bruise, the noise of their tongues rolling and roiling between their mouths sloppily audible around the whole room. Each seemed to be trying to outdo their other in how messy they could make their make out, as if to impress Harry with their raunchy slovenliness.

If that was the case, then they largely failed because in their haste to attack each other they seemed to have forgotten that Harry was sitting on Bella’s lap, and was thus lost in their pressing bodies, his face buried between two sets of generous boob meat.

It was unlikely he was complaining from in there though. There probably wasn’t a man at the table who wouldn’t have paid an arm to be sandwiched between Lily Potter and Bellatrix Black. Anyone who had gone to school with them had probably had the fantasy many times.

Harry’s two mommies groaned as they ate each other, faces pressing forward and back, heedless of the fact they were crushing their noses flat in their desperation to get their tongues down the other’s throat. From the deep, glottal chest noises they were making, it seemed likely they had succeeded. Their cheeks bulged this way and that, their tongues fighting, crashing between their mouths like wrestling dogs.

It seemed impossible for there to be a single square inch of either mouth to have escaped being licked over and slobbered on. Especially slobbered on. The tops of both their tits were shining with a thick coat of spit as it dribbled in rivers from their munching lips. A small pool of saliva formed in the divot between their breasts, drool collecting in the furrows of their boobs like rain in a gutter.

After no less than four unbroken minutes of the wettest, sloppiest, dirtiest french kissing the British Isles had likely ever seen, Lily and Bella finally pulled apart (ripped apart more like), holding each other at arm's length by the hair, gasping and panting loudly, their faces smeared with drool and as disheveled as if they had been wrestling for an hour.

They stared at each other for a long while, their breaths coming in heaves, spit still dribbling from their swollen red lips, eyes locked. An understanding seemed to pass between them then.

They each took one final, shuddering breath, and let go of each other’s hair. Lily wiped her mouth with the back of her and sat back in her chair, allowing herself to lean against the backrest for the first time all night. Bella continued to sit primly straight, Harry’s slightly squished face slotted firmly between her boobs, his hair slightly damp. She sucked her lips in, trying to slurp some of the spit back into her mouth to keep more from dribbling onto the top of his head.

Silence reigned.

Lily let out a winded breath, “Well, now that everything’s settled.”

Bella nodded, “Quite.”

Harry just looked pleased with himself.