Title: Dark Guardian Angel
Author: Carol Anne Caiafa
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: The Death Eaters won the war, and Gabrielle, now leading the Dark Lord’s Veela allies, has been given Ginny Weasley as her “pet”. But Gabrielle regards their relationship as far more than mistress/slave…
Warnings: D/s, light bondage and whipping, rough but loving sex, oral and mild anal sex, slight angst, mentions of character deaths (not main), post war AU. Mentions of past Harry/Ginny, Bill/Fleur, and Gabrielle/various unnamed female characters.
Disclaimer: Don’t own these characters, not making any profit, etc.
A/N: Written for the Reversathon. Many thanks to my beta, who wishes to remain anonymous.
The moonlight shimmered on Gabrielle’s white hair, making her slender form seem more pale and delicate than ever as she moved through the night, her blue silk robes swirling around her. She had chosen to walk home instead of traveling by Apparition for the whole distance because she had many thoughts that needed her attention.
A smile played about her lips; the conference with the Dark Lord and his allies had been fascinating, and very profitable. Voldemort had kept his promise – the dark creatures, werewolves, giants and others, and especially Gabrielle’s Veela kin – would be restored to their former glory under his new rule. All at the gathering had looked upon Gabrielle with respect, now that the Veela had chosen her as their queen. Lineage, charisma and ability meant more to Veela than purity of blood. And with Gabrielle’s royal line of descent from her Veela grandmother, and the strength and determination she had shown during the war years, far superior to those of her older sister Fleur, she was the most logical choice to rule this race of alluring and powerful beings. And she intended to fulfill her duties with every skill she had at her disposal.
The Angel, the Death Eaters called her. Angel of Death. It suited her, for she was fierce and brutal as a fighter, whether in human shape or the birdlike, demonic form that terrified so many. They feared her and adored her, the followers of Voldemort and the other magical beings that stood at his side. Whether with sharp beak and claws, or the swiftness of her wand and Avada Kedavra, Gabrielle was deadly, capable of causing great pain and suffering to those who crossed her. As some of the male Death Eaters had discovered, to their peril, when trying to seduce her. She had only let them live because the Dark Lord needed their services. If he had not, she would have seen to it that their deaths would have been slow and full of torment.
So much had changed since the end of the war, that long and arduous conflict that had seen many of Gabrielle’s loved ones killed. Gabrielle was a grown woman now, beautiful and radiant, but with a soul wearied, darkened and embittered by years of strife and suffering, grief and loss. Although never taking the Dark Mark herself, she had made a pact with Lord Voldemort, joining the Veela who had chosen to be part of his army of dark beings. It was the only way she had to keep alive those dear to her who still remained, she had reasoned. And fate had shown her choice to be the right one – the Dark Lord and his followers had been victorious.
She arrived at the palatial dwelling that she had been granted as one of many rewards for her efforts on behalf of the dark side, and Apparated inside. To prying Muggle eyes, from the outside the building looked like an old ruin, but within, the place was luxurious beyond belief. The walls were of white marble, hung with magnificent brocade tapestries and valuable paintings. Crystal chandeliers with many flickering candles lit her way, and the floors were carpeted in blood red velvet.
Torches on the walls flamed into light at her command as she entered her bedchamber; her Veela handmaidens, who had been readying the room for their queen’s arrival, curtsied respectfully and made their exit. Gabrielle breathed deeply and looked upon the beautiful sight before her, the woman on her knees, naked except for a silver collar around her neck, flowing red hair falling in soft waves to her waist and eyes cast down.
Ginevra Weasley. Her precious Ginny, given to her as a “pet” by the Dark Lord. It had been thoughts of Ginny that had played upon Gabrielle’s mind as she walked home. Lustful thoughts, of course, but her feelings for her captive ran far deeper. Ever since Gabrielle had been a little girl, from the day when her sister Fleur had married Ginny’s brother Bill, she had adored Ginny, longed to be close to her. But Ginny’s affections had been given to Harry Potter back then. Now Harry was dead, and Voldemort ruled the wizarding world. The only way to save Ginny’s life had been to take her as a slave. But Gabrielle did not merely think of Ginny as property or a toy to sate her lust. Gabrielle was in love.
Men had never interested Gabrielle, only women. She had used her influence to gain the acquiescence of many lovely ladies to share her bed. But now there was only one woman who had possession of her tender feelings and her passion – the woman who wore the collar around her neck that marked her as belonging to Gabrielle, in body if not in heart and soul.
Her pale hand reached down to caress the kneeling woman’s soft hair. “My beauty, my beloved,” she murmured, her lovely, haunting voice bearing only a trace of her former French accent. From the woman on her knees, she heard what sounded like a faint sob.
“My lady,” Ginny whispered, and made as if to kiss her hand, but Gabrielle’s grip tightened on the tresses beneath her fingertips and roughly pulled Ginny’s head up. Ginny instinctively obeyed the unspoken command, and raised her mistress’s skirts. Gabrielle was nude beneath the robes, and Ginny’s fingers quickly parted the wet, silky folds between Gabrielle’s legs, her tongue seeking the hard little nub of Gabrielle’s clit. Gabrielle moaned and gasped as Ginny’s tongue-tip flickered on her sensitive flesh, making her ache with need. As she came, she cried Ginny’s name aloud, moving her hips involuntarily as the spasms overwhelmed her and she almost collapsed.
Still dizzy with desire, Gabrielle pulled Ginny to her feet and pushed her onto the satin coverlet of the bed, casting a spell that bound the red-haired woman’s hands to two of the four posters with silk scarves. She picked up a soft suede flogger, and slowly, tantalizingly, began to lightly lash Ginny’s thighs and breasts. Not to cause pain, but just to redden and flush Ginny’s skin, to stimulate her lustful need and make her writhe.
Ginny whimpered and stirred, parting her legs to reveal her moistened slit, all covered with pretty russet curls that made Gabrielle bite her lip and burn to take this bound beauty. Another spell made scented oil drip from the tips of Gabrielle’s slim fingers, and she cast aside the whip to thrust a finger into each of Ginny’s tight openings, one deep inside her cunt and the other hard into her arse.
“So beautiful you are, and all mine,” Gabrielle purred as she bent down over Ginny to kiss and bite at her neck, then move gradually downward with warm, nuzzling lips to suckle on Ginny’s breasts, her tongue curling around first one hard, pink nipple and then the other. Ginny sobbed and raised her hips, completely surrendering to the pleasure that made her tremble and forget her lowly station, made her cry Gabrielle’s name aloud. In response, Gabrielle bit down upon the soft flesh in her mouth, and fucked Ginny harder and faster with her fingers.
With a scream, Ginny climaxed, tears spilling from her eyes and wetness drenching Gabrielle’s thrusting hand. As Ginny shook and tried to get her breath back, Gabrielle withdrew her fingers and seized her wand, swiftly casting the spell that loosed Ginny from her bonds.
Gabrielle gathered the trembling Ginny into her arms, kissing her face and mouth, murmuring endearments. “My lady…” Ginny tried to whisper as she had before, but Gabrielle laid a finger on her lips.
“Not “my lady” now, dearest. I’m just Gabi, and I love you more than life itself…”
As Ginny drifted off to sleep, Gabrielle held her close and lay awake, again besieged by thoughts, and this time troubling ones.
What did Ginny think of in her quiet moments? Was it Gabrielle she truly loved, or did she mourn for Harry still? Did Ginny really enjoy their trysts beyond her obvious physical pleasure, or was she imagining another’s hands caressing her body, dreaming of some day escaping her captivity?
Gabrielle bent to kiss Ginny once again. If she had had faith in any deity, she would have prayed that Ginny would some day declare her love. Just a fraction of the adoration that Gabrielle felt for her beloved would be sufficient. But until then, and beyond, Gabrielle would tenderly possess her slave, watch over her like a dark guardian angel and make sure that she came to no harm.