Chapter 12: Chapter 12
The air at Bella’s birthday dinner hung thick with the cloying sweetness of caramelized onions from the pissaladière and the sharp tang of expensive champagne. Sunlight, fading into a bruised purple twilight, streamed through the tall windows of the Black family’s seldom-used formal dining room, glinting off heavy silver and crystal. Conversations swirled – Bella, resplendent in crimson silk, held court about her recent trip to Marrakech; Lucius offered dry commentary on Wizengamot politics to an attentive Narcissa; Sirius, leaning back with predatory ease, traded barbs with a flustered cousin about Quidditch fouls. Cassie, seated between Lucius and an empty chair (reserved for the perpetually late Rodolphus), picked at her salmon en croute, the bite mark Tom had gifted her weeks ago still a faint, tell-tale shadow beneath a careless sweep of her hair. She felt the thrum of anticipation beneath the veneer of civility. Tom sat diagonally across, his dark eyes occasionally flickering to her, a silent ember banked but not extinguished.
The scrape of the heavy oak door shattered the brittle harmony. Rabastan Lestrange stood silhouetted in the doorway, leather jacket slung over a worn band t-shirt, motorcycle boots tracking grime onto the priceless Persian rug. He hadn’t been invited. Bella’s painted smile froze mid-sentence.
"Rab!" Sirius boomed, the first to recover, a genuine grin spreading across his face. He kicked out the empty chair beside Cassie. "Perfect timing. Bella was just about to regale us with the horrors of haggling for carpets."
"Spare me," Rabastan drawled, his voice a low rasp that cut through the room. He ignored Bella’s icy glare, his gaze sweeping the table before landing, heavy-lidded and assessing, on Cassie. "Traffic was a cunt." He dropped into the chair beside her, the movement bringing a whiff of leather, petrol, and something vaguely metallic. His thigh pressed firmly against hers beneath the linen tablecloth.
Cassie didn’t flinch. She took a slow sip of champagne, the bubbles sharp on her tongue. "Charming as ever, Rabastan. Did you bring Bella a present? Or just road dust?"
He chuckled, a dark, humourless sound. Leaning back slightly, his hand slid off the table and onto her thigh, hidden by the drape. His fingers, strong and calloused, traced a slow, deliberate path upwards, skimming the silk of her dress towards the sensitive junction where thigh met hip. His touch was possessive, invasive, a blatant claim staked in full view yet concealed. "Consider my presence the gift," he murmured, low enough only for her to hear. His thumb pressed a slow circle high on her inner thigh. "Missed you, little bird."
Lucius, seated on Cassie’s other side, hadn’t missed the subtle shift. His posture remained ramrod straight, his champagne flute held with unnatural stillness. A muscle ticked high in his jaw. His pale eyes, usually glacial, burned with a cold, incandescent fury as they fixed on Rabastan’s profile. The air around him seemed to crackle with contained violence. Narcissa placed a gentle hand on his arm; he didn’t seem to feel it.
Cassie felt the dual pressure – Rabastan’s insistent fingers branding her skin through the silk, Lucius’s silent rage radiating heat beside her. A dangerous thrill sparked in her chest. The game was already in play. Without breaking her languid gaze across the table where Tom now watched with unnerving stillness, his knuckles white where they gripped his knife, Cassie let her own hand drift below the tablecloth.
Her fingers found Lucius’s knee, rigid beneath his impeccably tailored trousers. She felt him tense further, a statue of outrage. Then, slowly, deliberately, she slid her hand higher, palm flat against the taut muscle of his inner thigh. He inhaled sharply, a near-silent gasp. Her little finger brushed against the unmistakable ridge of his erection straining against the fine wool. She pressed her palm down firmly, possessively, mirroring Rabastan’s claim on her other side.
Lucius froze entirely. The fury in his eyes flickered, replaced for a split second by shock, then something hotter, darker. A flush crept up his neck, visible above his collar. He didn’t move, didn’t pull away. He simply held Cassie’s gaze, trapped between her hand and his own seething anger, a silent understanding passing between them. Play along. Play the game.
Sirius, catching the subtle interplay – Cassie’s slightly parted lips, the rigid line of Lucius’s shoulders, the predatory satisfaction on Rabastan’s face as his fingers continued their leisurely exploration – choked on his champagne. He coughed, thumping his chest, a wide, incredulous grin spreading beneath the guise of clearing his throat. His eyes danced with wicked amusement. "Something caught in your throat, cousin?" Bella asked archly.
"Just… unexpected flavours," Sirius managed, his gaze locked onto Cassie. He kicked her ankle lightly under the table, a silent, approving you minx. The sheer audacity, the brazen manipulation unfolding right under Bella’s oblivious nose and Tom’s simmering gaze… it was intoxicating. And seeing Lucius Malfoy, the epitome of icy control, utterly unstrung by Cassie’s touch? Sirius felt a familiar heat coil low in his own belly. Damn, she was playing with fire, juggling vipers.
Tom’s voice cut through the moment, smooth as poisoned honey, but colder than Lucius’s fury. "Rabastan. Your timing is… characteristic." He didn't look at Rabastan. His dark eyes were fixed solely on Cassie, the ember now a visible flame. He’d seen the shift in Lucius, the faint flush, the way Cassie’s attention momentarily focused entirely on the blonde wizard beside her. He’d seen Sirius’s reaction too. His gaze lingered on the spot where Rabastan’s hand was undoubtedly hidden beneath the cloth. The possessive fury radiating from him was almost palpable, a dark counterpoint to Lucius’s icy rage. His fork bent slightly in his grip. Jealousy, stark and dangerous, twisted his handsome features. Cassie met his gaze evenly, a faint, challenging smile playing on her lips. See? it seemed to say. I am not just yours to claim.
Rabastan, entirely misreading the room’s tension as admiration for his entrance, leaned closer to Cassie, his breath warm against her ear. His roaming fingers dipped higher, grazing the edge of her knickers. "Later," he murmured, the word a gravelly promise. "After the cake. My place. Remember how loud you screamed last time?" He squeezed her thigh, a brutal punctuation mark.
Cassie didn’t react outwardly to his crude suggestion. She simply kept one hand pressed firmly against Lucius’s hard thigh, anchoring him, claiming him, while her other arm rested casually on the table, seemingly oblivious to Rabastan’s touch beneath it. She took another sip of champagne, her eyes drifting from Tom’s jealous glare to Sirius’s amused, heated stare. The air crackled with unspoken threats, illicit promises, and the raw current of desire she was conducting like a maestro. Bella prattled on about souks.
Sirius watched Cassie, the queen holding court over chaos, and the thought slammed into him with the force of a Bludger: She’s going to make him fall for her. Tom. She’s going to do it. The sheer terrifying audacity of her plan, playing Rabastan’s lust and Lucius’s fury like instruments, stoking Tom’s jealousy… all while radiating a cool, dangerous control. It wasn't just seduction. It was a siege laid against an immortal fortress. And watching her navigate the minefield, Sirius felt a surge of dark, exhilarated pride, tangled fiercely with the heat still pooling low in his gut. She wasn't just playing with fire. She was the fire. And she was going to burn them all.
The birthday cake arrived, a monstrous confection of spun sugar and dark chocolate that Bella accepted with regal indifference. Chatter resumed, brittle and overloud, punctuated by the clink of forks on fine china. Cassie carefully extracted her hand from Lucius’s thigh, feeling the residual tremor in his muscles, and smoothly slid Rabastan’s persistent grip off her leg just as the server approached their side of the table with dessert. "None for me, thanks," she murmured, pushing her chair back. "Excuse me a moment."
She crossed the room, the silk of her dress whispering, acutely aware of four pairs of eyes tracking her path towards the hallway leading to the powder room. The heavy door snicked shut behind her, muffling Bella’s shrill laugh. Leaning against the cool marble vanity, she closed her eyes for a single breath, the ghost of Rabastan’s touch and the imprint of Lucius’s arousal still vibrating on her skin. She turned on the tap, splashing cool water on her wrists. The lock clicked.
She looked up. Tom filled the doorway, his expression carved from obsidian. He stepped inside, locking the door behind him with deliberate finality. The sound echoed in the small space.
"Enjoying the show?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft. He didn’t move from the door, blocking her only exit. His gaze raked over her, lingering where Rabastan’s hand had been, where Lucius had trembled.
"It’s Bella’s party," Cassie replied evenly, turning off the tap and reaching for a hand towel. "One tries to be sociable." She patted her skin dry, meeting his burning stare. He crossed the distance in two strides.
His hand shot out, fingers like steel bands closing around her upper arm. He spun her, pinning her back against the cold marble counter. His other hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back. He didn’t kiss her. He studied her face, the anger in his eyes warring with something raw, possessive. Jealousy radiated from him in palpable waves. "Sociable?" His breath was hot against her lips. "Is that what you call letting that gutter-punk grope you under the table while you stroke Malfoy into knots?" His grip tightened on her hair. "While I watched?"
Cassie didn’t struggle. "Did it bother you?" she breathed, the challenge clear despite her position. She saw the flare of pure fury in his dark eyes. "Is the great Tom Riddle jealous?"
He didn’t answer with words. His mouth crashed down on hers, hard, punishing. It wasn’t affection; it was possession, a brutal reclamation. His teeth scraped her lower lip. One hand shoved the thin silk of her dress up her thigh, his fingers finding the damp silk of her underwear and tearing it aside. There was no preamble, no tenderness. He fumbled with his belt buckle, the metallic clink loud, then thrust into her with one savage movement, pressing her hard against the unforgiving counter edge.
She gasped, not in pain, but in a sharp intake of breath that fuelled his intensity. His other hand remained fisted in her hair, holding her head still as he drove into her, the rhythm fast and demanding, his hips slamming against hers. The marble was cold on her back, his body burning hot against her front. He buried his face in her neck, biting down on the juncture, a growl rumbling in his chest. He didn’t speak, just took, his movements fueled by the sight of Rabastan’s touch, Lucius’s reaction, Sirius’s amusement. His release came swiftly, violently, a harsh groan ripped from him as he pressed impossibly deep, spilling inside her. He stayed there for a moment, breath ragged against her abused neck, his weight heavy. Then he pulled out abruptly, tucking himself away, his expression shuttered, cold fury still simmering beneath the surface. He unlocked the door and left without looking back, leaving her leaning against the counter, her dress askew, his release already cooling between her thighs. She took another deep, steadying breath, smoothed her dress, and reapplied her lipstick with a hand that barely trembled. Ignition, she thought, a small, cold smile touching her lips.
Back in the dining room, the party was fracturing. Bella was arguing with Rodolphus about a misplaced necklace. Narcissa was gathering her wrap, her expression pinched. Sirius leaned against the ornate mantelpiece, a fresh drink in hand, watching Lucius who stood rigidly by the window, his back to the room, staring out at the darkening garden. Sirius caught Cassie’s reappearance, his gaze sharp, missing nothing – the faint redness at her neck, the slight disarray, the unnaturally bright glitter in her eyes. He pushed off the mantel and sauntered over to Lucius.
"Bit abrupt, our host’s departure," Sirius murmured, standing close beside the rigid blonde, his voice pitched low. He deliberately brushed his arm against Lucius’s. "Looked like he had urgent business."
Lucius flinched minutely but didn’t turn. "His manners were always… deficient." His voice was tight, strained.
"Unlike ours, naturally," Sirius said, his tone light but his gaze fixed on Cassie, who was now accepting a glass of water from a house-elf, her composure impeccable. "Saw her little manoeuvre earlier. Under the table." He nudged Lucius again, letting his knuckles rest against the back of Lucius’s hand where it clenched the window frame. "Quite the balancing act. Left you a bit… wound up, didn’t it?" He let the implication hang, feeling the tension thrumming through the other man like a plucked wire. "Me too, if we’re being honest. Watching her work is practically a spectator sport." Lucius finally turned his head, his pale eyes blazing, not just with residual fury at Rabastan, but with something hotter, more desperate, amplified by the knowledge of where Cassie had just been, with whom, and for what purpose. The raw need in that look, the utter unraveling of Malfoy control, was the final spark.
Sirius didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the front of Lucius’s expensive charcoal grey shirt and yanked him forward, crashing their mouths together. It wasn’t gentle; it was a clash of teeth and tongue, a release of the frantic energy Cassie had ignited in both of them, channeled now into each other. Lucius froze for a split second, then groaned into Sirius’s mouth, a raw, hungry sound, his hands flying up to grip Sirius’s shoulders, pulling him closer, fingers digging in. They kissed with fierce desperation, hidden in the shadows by the heavy drapes, oblivious to Narcissa’s frozen stare of horror or Bella’s raised eyebrow. They kissed for Cassie, for the sheer, dangerous thrill she embodied, for the jealousy, the arousal, the chaos – all distilled into this frantic, hidden connection. Sirius’s hand slid into Lucius’s hair, holding him fast as Lucius pressed him back against the window frame, the kiss deepening, turning possessive.
Across the room, Rabastan materialized beside Cassie as she set down her water glass. He smelled of smoke and leather and the night air. "Party’s dead," he announced, his gaze heavy-lidded as he took in her appearance, the faint mark on her neck, the lingering flush on her cheeks. He leaned in close, his voice a low rasp in her ear. "Forgot how loud you scream. My bike’s out front." It wasn’t a request. He held her gaze, the promise from earlier blazing in his eyes, intensified by whatever fresh vulnerability or power he saw radiating from her now.
Cassie met his stare, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across her lips. "Lead the way." She didn’t look back at Sirius and Lucius locked in their fierce embrace by the window, nor at the spot Tom had vacated. She simply took Rabastan’s offered arm, feeling the hard muscle beneath his jacket sleeve. They slipped out of the dining room, unnoticed by everyone except the two wizards breaking apart by the window, both breathing heavily, eyes wide with shared astonishment and unspent desire. Lucius wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, staring after her, a complex storm of emotions warring on his face. Sirius just grinned, a wild, exhilarated thing, watching Cassie disappear with Rabastan. "Bloody hell, Lestrange," he breathed, shaking his head in disbelief.
Rabastan’s flat was exactly as she remembered it – spartan, utilitarian, smelling faintly of engine oil, stale smoke, and something sharper, metallic. A single dim bulb illuminated the cramped kitchen-living space. He didn’t speak, just kicked the door shut behind them and pushed her against it. His mouth found hers, demanding, tasting of cheap beer and the lingering ghost of Bella’s expensive champagne. His hands were already under her dress, shoving the ruined silk of her underwear aside again, his fingers finding her wet, swollen folds. He growled low in his throat. "Still wet for him?" he muttered against her lips, his fingers probing, pushing deep inside her, feeling Tom’s slick residue. "Doesn’t matter. Makes it better." He unzipped his jeans, his erection springing free. He hooked one of her legs over his hip, angled her, and thrust home in one brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt inside her, pushing against the evidence of Tom’s possession. Cassie cried out, a sharp sound swallowed by his mouth as he began to move, setting a relentless, punishing rhythm against the unyielding door.
The door rattled against Cassie’s spine with every brutal thrust. Rabastan’s breath was hot and ragged against her neck, a counterpoint to the slick, punishing rhythm driving into her. “Fuck, you take it,” he growled, his calloused fingers digging into the flesh of her raised thigh. “Always so fucking ready.” He slammed deeper, hitting a spot that made her vision spark white even as the door’s edge bit sharply into her back. His other hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back. “His mess still inside you? Makes you hotter, doesn’t it, you filthy little slag?”
She gasped, the coarse words scraping over her nerves like sandpaper, sparking an answering heat deep in her belly. “Shows… shows he couldn’t keep me,” she managed, the sentence fracturing on a moan as his pace intensified. He laughed, a harsh bark.
“Keep you? Who the fuck could?” His hand slid roughly between them, thumb finding her clit and rubbing with bruising pressure. “Coming on his spunk and my cock? Yeah, you love being used, don’t you? Common little whore.”
The crude name, the sheer possessiveness in his disgust, shattered the last of her control. Her orgasm ripped through her, violent and consuming, tearing a ragged cry from her throat as her body clenched tight around him. He cursed, hips stuttering, then drove into her convulsing heat with three final, brutal strokes, emptying himself with a guttural groan, his forehead pressed hard against her shoulder. He stayed buried for a moment, panting, the smell of sweat and sex thick in the cramped space. Then he pulled out abruptly, leaving her trembling against the door, his release joining Tom’s warmth already slicking her thighs. He dropped to his knees.
His hands hooked under her thighs, lifting her slightly, his breath hot on her oversensitive flesh. “Fucking soaked,” he muttered, his tongue laving a broad, rough stroke upwards, tasting both men on her. The sensation was almost painful, intensely intimate. He buried his face between her legs, tongue thrusting deep, lapping greedily. “Taste yourself, slut,” he ordered, voice muffled, his fingers digging into her hips. “Taste us.” He worked her relentlessly with his tongue and lips, bringing her back to a shuddering peak within minutes, her fingers tangling in his dark, sweaty hair as she cried out again, her knees buckling.
He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his erection already stiffening again. “Get on the floor,” he commanded, his voice thick. “Hands and knees.” She obeyed, the cheap carpet rough against her palms and shins. He positioned himself behind her, his palm landing sharply on her arse cheek. “Arch that back, show it to me proper.” He spat onto his hand, slicked himself, then drove back into her swollen, sensitive channel with a grunt. The stretch was almost too much, the friction amplified by his earlier attentions. He set a deep, pounding rhythm, one hand gripping her hip bone, the other tangled back in her hair, pulling her head back. “That’s it, take it, you greedy cunt,” he snarled, his thrusts becoming erratic, desperate. “Made for cock, aren’t you? Just a cock sleeve.” Her name wasn't spoken; only the filthy endearments, the ownership in his voice, pushing her towards another dizzying crest. He came again with a shout, collapsing over her back briefly before shoving her aside and staggering towards the kitchen sink, leaving her shaking on the floor.
The cold night air hit her like a slap as she stumbled out of Rabastan's building later. Her body felt wrung out, bruised, every step a reminder of his rough possession. Tom's and Rabastan's combined spend leaked warm and sticky down her inner thighs, the sensation grounding her in the raw immediacy of the game. She needed her own space, the sanctuary of her flat, to wash away the physical remnants and recalibrate. The streets were quiet, the hum of distant London traffic a low thrum beneath the silence. She let herself in, the familiar click of the lock a small comfort.
The scene that greeted her in the living room halted her mid-step. Low lamplight cast long shadows. Sirius lounged sideways in her favourite armchair, legs draped over one arm, head lolled back. Lucius stood rigidly before the large window, silhouetted against the city lights. The air crackled with unspent tension, thick with the scent of expensive firewhisky and something else… musk and salt. Both men were shirtless. Sirius’s hand was wrapped firmly around his own erection, stroking with slow, deliberate intensity, his eyes hooded and fixed on Lucius. Lucius had one hand braced against the window frame, the other working his own cock with a fierce, controlled rhythm, his pale skin flushed, his gaze locked on Sirius’s hand moving on himself. The raw intimacy of it, the silent, shared desperation born of her manipulations at Bella's party, hit Cassie like a physical blow. The image of them kissing by the window, the frustration simmering beneath Lucius's icy facade, Sirius's reckless amusement – it had festered, boiled over into this solitary, mutual release in her space. Seeing them, lost in their shared arousal, focused solely on each other while covered in the evidence of her encounters with Tom and Rabastan, ignited a fresh, ferocious heat low in her belly. It was possessive. It was dangerous. It was exactly the fuel she needed.
The door clicked shut behind her. Two heads snapped around. Shock, guilt, and a dawning, predatory hunger warred on their faces as they took in her dishevelled state, the marks on her neck, the unmistakable scent clinging to her. Sirius’s hand stilled on his cock, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face. Lucius froze, his expression unreadable for a fraction of a second before his eyes, dark with lust and a lingering trace of fury, raked over her.
"Looks like you had a more interesting night," Sirius drawled, his voice rough, not moving from the chair, his erection still glistening in his grip.
Cassie didn't hesitate. She walked towards them, shedding her ruined dress in one fluid motion, letting it pool at her feet. She stood before them, naked, marked, their combined essence slick between her thighs. "You started without me," she stated, her voice low and commanding, stopping directly between them. She reached out, taking Sirius’s hand still wrapped around himself and guiding it firmly away. Her other hand closed over Lucius’s wrist, pulling his hand from his own cock. She held their gazes, the power shifting palpably back to her. "Finish with me."
She didn't ask. She pulled Sirius forward by his grip on his wrist, bringing his mouth crashing down onto hers. It was all teeth and tongue, fierce and claiming. At the same time, she reached behind her, her hand finding Lucius’s hard length and guiding it unerringly to her slick entrance. She sank down onto him in one powerful motion, gasping against Sirius’s mouth as Lucius filled her, stretching her already sensitized flesh, pushing Tom's and Rabastan's release deeper. Sirius groaned into the kiss, his free hand grabbing her hip, fingers digging in. Lucius’s breath hitched, a strangled sound escaping him as her tight heat engulfed him. Cassie broke the kiss with Sirius, throwing her head back against Lucius’s shoulder. “Fuck me,” she demanded, the words raw. “Both of you. Now.”
Sirius dropped to his knees instantly, his mouth finding her clit, tongue swirling with practiced, relentless pressure. Lucius needed no further urging. He braced himself, hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, and began thrusting, deep and punishing, mirroring Rabastan’s earlier ferocity but layered with his own refined, desperate fury. Cassie cried out, the dual assault overwhelming – Lucius pounding into her, Sirius’s tongue a brand on her clit, the pressure building impossibly fast, amplified by the evening's accumulated intensity. She tangled one hand in Sirius’s dark hair, urging him on, the other reached back to claw at Lucius’s thigh, pulling him deeper still. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, ragged breathing, Sirius’s muffled groans against her flesh, Lucius’s sharp grunts with each powerful thrust.
Cassie felt herself hurtling towards the edge, a precipice built on jealousy, manipulation, and raw, untamed lust. “Harder!” she gasped, arching back against Lucius. “Don’t stop!” Sirius’s fingers joined his tongue, plunging into her alongside Lucius’s cock for a searing moment before returning to her clit. Lucius’s rhythm became frantic, losing its icy control, driven purely by primal need and the sight of Sirius devouring her. The peak detonated through Cassie first, a silent scream tearing through her as her body convulsed violently around Lucius’s relentless thrusts. Her climax triggered Sirius’s; he came with a muffled shout against her, his body shuddering.
Lucius lasted only seconds longer. Feeling her inner muscles clamp down in the throes of her orgasm, witnessing Sirius lose himself, the final shred of his control snapped. He drove into her once, twice more, impossibly deep, burying himself with a guttural roar as his own release tore through him. The force of it, the combined sensory overload and the sheer physical exertion of holding her upright while fucking her so brutally, overwhelmed him. His vision tunnelled, the world tilting violently. He felt himself falling backwards, his grip on Cassie loosening as darkness surged.
Sirius, slumped forward against Cassie’s thighs, felt Lucius stagger. He looked up, dazed, just in time to see Lucius’s eyes roll back, his body go utterly limp. Sirius tried to catch him, lurching upwards, but his own legs buckled, the blood rushing from his head. He crumpled sideways, hitting the carpet beside Cassie’s discarded dress, his vision swimming into blackness before he could even register the impact. Utter silence descended, broken only by Cassie’s ragged breathing as she stood, trembling, Lucius’s softening cock slipping from her, looking down at the two powerful wizards unconscious at her feet.