Fic: "Bells and Footfalls and Soldiers and Dolls" (Bellatrix/Narcissa, Hard R)
Title: Bells and Footfalls and Soldiers and Dolls
Author: kethlenda
Pairing: Bellatrix/Narcissa
Rating: R
Length: 1620
Warnings: Incest. Teen!sex (I estimate that Bella is 19 or 20, Narcissa several years younger and still in school.)
Disclaimer: not mine
Summary: The two remaining Black sisters come to a new understanding after Andromeda’s elopement.
Author's Notes: Written for captain_jen at hp_springsmut. Thanks to sionnain for betaing.
Narcissa always thought she would be the one to fall. It was written in the golden, incongruous hue of her hair. Sirius always taunted her about it. Oi, Bellatrix-you remember, don’t you? Didn’t your mum have a blond gardener back when we were little? Your dad knows, Cis. Why d’you think he didn’t give you one of the family names?
But if there were ever a serious rumor of illegitimacy attached to Narcissa, Father never seemed to have heard it. She was his special pet, his little girl, his doll. It was a love without respect-the sort of love one feels for a favorite lapdog-but it was love nonetheless, and she tried not to begrudge the way he looked upon Bella as an equal.
Narcissa would be the good girl, as she had always been: perfect marks, tidy room, impeccable manners, never a stain or splotch on her robes. She knew she had to be perfect; she was an anomaly, not quite a Black, and it would take greater effort on her part not to stray. Every ounce of her will, to ensure that neither her parents nor her eventual husband would ever breathe a word against her pedigree.
Andromeda-no one had taken much notice of her: the quiet one, the strange one, curled up among the rosebushes with her books and her dreams, brambles tangled in her hair. The Muggles tell better stories she always said. They have a sense of wonder that we’ve lost. Narcissa wonders: if only the family had paid more attention to the books, if they’d understood Tristan and Isolde, Romeo and Juliet, Abelard and Heloise, could they have stopped Andromeda before she went too far?
Before the morning they found her gone, most of her sumptuous robes left hanging in the closet, a cryptic note pinned to her pillow. Before their questions had been answered by the society page of the next day’s Prophet: “Miss Andromeda Alcyone Black and Mr. Theodore Michael Tonks announce…”
Narcissa’s first emotion was relief. All those years of walking the razor’s edge, afraid at any moment she would slip, prove herself an impostor unworthy of her name-all those years, and it was not Narcissa who had tumbled. She was safe.
She pinned the Prophet clipping to the edge of her bedroom mirror, carefully hidden among the photographs of her school chums. It had a picture of Andromeda, smiling, her arm around her handsome downfall. Father chortled indulgently--she looks into her mirror even more than before; we named her well, didn’t we?--but it was the clipping that drew her eyes, an object lesson, another reminder to stay on her toes.
She was looking into Andromeda’s unanswering newsprint eyes again that night, hoping this time she would see something she had missed before, when she heard the knock at her bedroom door.
***
Bellatrix always had to restrain a laugh at the décor of Narcissa’s room. Everything was baby-pink and powder-blue, ruffles upon ruffles, china dolls with sausage curls and dim-witted stares.
She envied, sometimes, the soft life Narcissa had known, but in her heart she would never consent to change places. She would never give up who she was, who she had been.
Bellatrix was the son her father had never had. It was Bellatrix who went hunting with Father, learned to duel, sipped whisky as she pored over the family ledgers. Mother was concerned lately that a tomboy like Bellatrix would have trouble finding a husband, but Father overruled her, throwing a brotherly arm around his daughter and saying she would find a worthy man in time, and for now, why be hasty and marry her to someone unworthy? She had beauty enough, and spotless breeding, and there was no rush, no rush at all.
Father gave me my warrior’s name. He gave her a name for looking in mirrors. I am happy with my role; is she?
Narcissa looked up from her vanity. “Bella,” she said. Narcissa was the only one who shortened Bellatrix’s name, softened it to beauty.
The only one since Andromeda.
***
Narcissa hurried to rearrange the photographs and obscure Andromeda’s face. Father had forbidden any likeness of her to be displayed within the house, and Narcissa knew Bella was Father’s right hand. If anything, Bella was more conservative, more fanatical about the purity of blood. If there was anyone who was happy to see the back of Andromeda, surely it was Bellatrix.
“Looking at the wedding announcement?” asked Bellatrix, a smile twisting her mouth.
Narcissa’s face burned. “You’re sharper than Mum and Dad.”
“Miss her?”
“Of course not!” she said, too quickly. “She’s a…a filthy blood traitor.” Narcissa crossed her arms over her chest, daring Bella to claim she hadn’t spoken the right words.
“She was my lover,” said Bella, and her eyes seemed to flash defiance.
Narcissa gasped. Incest-it was a taunt the Muggle-born students at school used to rile their pureblood peers, you marry your own cousins, don’t you?
“Oh, don’t give me that,” sneered Bella. “It’s an old family tradition. We marry outside the family when we must, to make alliances with the other old families, but we know no one can ever really understand us-except each other.” Bella closed her heavy-lidded eyes and smiled languidly, and Narcissa wondered what sensual memories danced through her sister’s mind.
“So, if you were her lover,” said Narcissa, “what’d she want with this Tonks bloke?”
Bella’s lips pursed. “She didn’t want to be a Black, didn’t want to be with me. She was ashamed--they’d filled her full of bloody Muggle morals at school. Every time I went to her, she’d shrink back into the covers and act like she didn’t want it. I thought it was an act. Right up until she left.”
Narcissa looked forward into the mirror, and saw Bellatrix reflected, standing behind her, and wondered how Andromeda could have such beauty in her bed night after night and run from it. Her face flushed red with heat, and she watched her own lips part slightly, as though waiting to be kissed.
***
She’s too young.
No, not so young anymore; the figure beneath her ice-blue robes was perfectly Grecian; the face that watched her in the mirror was a woman’s face. Always before, Narcissa had seemed an unstamped coin to Bellatrix, but this past year at school had refined her, burned away youth and left beauty. No child, Narcissa.
This one…this one is mine…
Andromeda’s reluctant acquiescence cast suddenly into dim light by Narcissa’s visible desire; Bellatrix smiled as she took hold of the tawny rope of Cissy’s hair and twined it around her hand, slowly at first, then a sudden tug, yanking Cissy’s head back so that her face was cast up to the heavens, to Bellatrix’s own hungry lips. Bellatrix kissed her, claiming her lips, knowing by Cissy’s muffled gasp that this was the very first time.
Yes, mine, this one won’t run like Andromeda, this one knows what it is to be one of us, this one will love me as Andromeda never did. Mine.
***
Narcissa had never been kissed; kissing was another of those dangerous things that got a girl in trouble. But this-being utterly devoured by her sister’s lips-this could not be wrong. This felt like the most right thing she had ever done.
Now Bellatrix was kissing her neck, running those long pale hands down over Narcissa’s breasts. Narcissa moaned as Bellatrix’s fingers teased her nipples into aching hardness. She felt wetness blooming between her thighs; she wanted to close her eyes and drown in the sensation, but watching Bella’s hands on her own flesh in the mirror was like watching one of her most secret dreams come to life.
She watched as Bellatrix grasped handfuls of the loose robes, pulled them roughly up over Narcissa’s head, leaving her naked in the chair.
Narcissa had seen her own body before, of course, but always she’d looked upon it as something to be tamed: an ounce of excess fat here, a mole that needed charming away, denied yearnings that left her awake nights in a cold sweat. Never had she looked at her flesh in love, but as she saw herself writhing under Bella’s touch, her first thought was, I am beautiful. She watched her own porcelain skin turn rose-tinted as Bella’s fingers pinched at her breasts, as Bella’s lips nibbled at her collarbones.
But I want to see you…
Bella’s fingers slipped between Narcissa’s legs, tracing the sensitive lips, teasing, and by the time she finally touched Narcissa’s clit, Narcissa was close to begging. Bella seized the plait of hair again, holding Narcissa’s head fast, forcing her to watch as Bella rubbed and stroked. Bellatrix laid her head on Narcissa’s shoulder, smiling a feline smile as Narcissa bucked and moaned and came, body trembling with the strength of her pleasure.
***
Bellatrix licked her lips as she watched Cissy’s composure dissolve before her eyes. Pretty little Cissy-everyone thought she was vain and selfish, but Bella knew how hard Cissy tried to please everyone, how hard she tried to sublimate herself.
How delicious it was, just for once, to see her let herself go, think of nothing but the moment and her body and her pleasure. Cissy’s whole body had gone pink, and it was not the politely painted blush on the face of a china doll.
Let the world take her for a doll, if they will. For me, she comes alive. For me alone.
Author: kethlenda
Pairing: Bellatrix/Narcissa
Rating: R
Length: 1620
Warnings: Incest. Teen!sex (I estimate that Bella is 19 or 20, Narcissa several years younger and still in school.)
Disclaimer: not mine
Summary: The two remaining Black sisters come to a new understanding after Andromeda’s elopement.
Author's Notes: Written for captain_jen at hp_springsmut. Thanks to sionnain for betaing.
Narcissa always thought she would be the one to fall. It was written in the golden, incongruous hue of her hair. Sirius always taunted her about it. Oi, Bellatrix-you remember, don’t you? Didn’t your mum have a blond gardener back when we were little? Your dad knows, Cis. Why d’you think he didn’t give you one of the family names?
But if there were ever a serious rumor of illegitimacy attached to Narcissa, Father never seemed to have heard it. She was his special pet, his little girl, his doll. It was a love without respect-the sort of love one feels for a favorite lapdog-but it was love nonetheless, and she tried not to begrudge the way he looked upon Bella as an equal.
Narcissa would be the good girl, as she had always been: perfect marks, tidy room, impeccable manners, never a stain or splotch on her robes. She knew she had to be perfect; she was an anomaly, not quite a Black, and it would take greater effort on her part not to stray. Every ounce of her will, to ensure that neither her parents nor her eventual husband would ever breathe a word against her pedigree.
Andromeda-no one had taken much notice of her: the quiet one, the strange one, curled up among the rosebushes with her books and her dreams, brambles tangled in her hair. The Muggles tell better stories she always said. They have a sense of wonder that we’ve lost. Narcissa wonders: if only the family had paid more attention to the books, if they’d understood Tristan and Isolde, Romeo and Juliet, Abelard and Heloise, could they have stopped Andromeda before she went too far?
Before the morning they found her gone, most of her sumptuous robes left hanging in the closet, a cryptic note pinned to her pillow. Before their questions had been answered by the society page of the next day’s Prophet: “Miss Andromeda Alcyone Black and Mr. Theodore Michael Tonks announce…”
Narcissa’s first emotion was relief. All those years of walking the razor’s edge, afraid at any moment she would slip, prove herself an impostor unworthy of her name-all those years, and it was not Narcissa who had tumbled. She was safe.
She pinned the Prophet clipping to the edge of her bedroom mirror, carefully hidden among the photographs of her school chums. It had a picture of Andromeda, smiling, her arm around her handsome downfall. Father chortled indulgently--she looks into her mirror even more than before; we named her well, didn’t we?--but it was the clipping that drew her eyes, an object lesson, another reminder to stay on her toes.
She was looking into Andromeda’s unanswering newsprint eyes again that night, hoping this time she would see something she had missed before, when she heard the knock at her bedroom door.
***
Bellatrix always had to restrain a laugh at the décor of Narcissa’s room. Everything was baby-pink and powder-blue, ruffles upon ruffles, china dolls with sausage curls and dim-witted stares.
She envied, sometimes, the soft life Narcissa had known, but in her heart she would never consent to change places. She would never give up who she was, who she had been.
Bellatrix was the son her father had never had. It was Bellatrix who went hunting with Father, learned to duel, sipped whisky as she pored over the family ledgers. Mother was concerned lately that a tomboy like Bellatrix would have trouble finding a husband, but Father overruled her, throwing a brotherly arm around his daughter and saying she would find a worthy man in time, and for now, why be hasty and marry her to someone unworthy? She had beauty enough, and spotless breeding, and there was no rush, no rush at all.
Father gave me my warrior’s name. He gave her a name for looking in mirrors. I am happy with my role; is she?
Narcissa looked up from her vanity. “Bella,” she said. Narcissa was the only one who shortened Bellatrix’s name, softened it to beauty.
The only one since Andromeda.
***
Narcissa hurried to rearrange the photographs and obscure Andromeda’s face. Father had forbidden any likeness of her to be displayed within the house, and Narcissa knew Bella was Father’s right hand. If anything, Bella was more conservative, more fanatical about the purity of blood. If there was anyone who was happy to see the back of Andromeda, surely it was Bellatrix.
“Looking at the wedding announcement?” asked Bellatrix, a smile twisting her mouth.
Narcissa’s face burned. “You’re sharper than Mum and Dad.”
“Miss her?”
“Of course not!” she said, too quickly. “She’s a…a filthy blood traitor.” Narcissa crossed her arms over her chest, daring Bella to claim she hadn’t spoken the right words.
“She was my lover,” said Bella, and her eyes seemed to flash defiance.
Narcissa gasped. Incest-it was a taunt the Muggle-born students at school used to rile their pureblood peers, you marry your own cousins, don’t you?
“Oh, don’t give me that,” sneered Bella. “It’s an old family tradition. We marry outside the family when we must, to make alliances with the other old families, but we know no one can ever really understand us-except each other.” Bella closed her heavy-lidded eyes and smiled languidly, and Narcissa wondered what sensual memories danced through her sister’s mind.
“So, if you were her lover,” said Narcissa, “what’d she want with this Tonks bloke?”
Bella’s lips pursed. “She didn’t want to be a Black, didn’t want to be with me. She was ashamed--they’d filled her full of bloody Muggle morals at school. Every time I went to her, she’d shrink back into the covers and act like she didn’t want it. I thought it was an act. Right up until she left.”
Narcissa looked forward into the mirror, and saw Bellatrix reflected, standing behind her, and wondered how Andromeda could have such beauty in her bed night after night and run from it. Her face flushed red with heat, and she watched her own lips part slightly, as though waiting to be kissed.
***
She’s too young.
No, not so young anymore; the figure beneath her ice-blue robes was perfectly Grecian; the face that watched her in the mirror was a woman’s face. Always before, Narcissa had seemed an unstamped coin to Bellatrix, but this past year at school had refined her, burned away youth and left beauty. No child, Narcissa.
This one…this one is mine…
Andromeda’s reluctant acquiescence cast suddenly into dim light by Narcissa’s visible desire; Bellatrix smiled as she took hold of the tawny rope of Cissy’s hair and twined it around her hand, slowly at first, then a sudden tug, yanking Cissy’s head back so that her face was cast up to the heavens, to Bellatrix’s own hungry lips. Bellatrix kissed her, claiming her lips, knowing by Cissy’s muffled gasp that this was the very first time.
Yes, mine, this one won’t run like Andromeda, this one knows what it is to be one of us, this one will love me as Andromeda never did. Mine.
***
Narcissa had never been kissed; kissing was another of those dangerous things that got a girl in trouble. But this-being utterly devoured by her sister’s lips-this could not be wrong. This felt like the most right thing she had ever done.
Now Bellatrix was kissing her neck, running those long pale hands down over Narcissa’s breasts. Narcissa moaned as Bellatrix’s fingers teased her nipples into aching hardness. She felt wetness blooming between her thighs; she wanted to close her eyes and drown in the sensation, but watching Bella’s hands on her own flesh in the mirror was like watching one of her most secret dreams come to life.
She watched as Bellatrix grasped handfuls of the loose robes, pulled them roughly up over Narcissa’s head, leaving her naked in the chair.
Narcissa had seen her own body before, of course, but always she’d looked upon it as something to be tamed: an ounce of excess fat here, a mole that needed charming away, denied yearnings that left her awake nights in a cold sweat. Never had she looked at her flesh in love, but as she saw herself writhing under Bella’s touch, her first thought was, I am beautiful. She watched her own porcelain skin turn rose-tinted as Bella’s fingers pinched at her breasts, as Bella’s lips nibbled at her collarbones.
But I want to see you…
Bella’s fingers slipped between Narcissa’s legs, tracing the sensitive lips, teasing, and by the time she finally touched Narcissa’s clit, Narcissa was close to begging. Bella seized the plait of hair again, holding Narcissa’s head fast, forcing her to watch as Bella rubbed and stroked. Bellatrix laid her head on Narcissa’s shoulder, smiling a feline smile as Narcissa bucked and moaned and came, body trembling with the strength of her pleasure.
***
Bellatrix licked her lips as she watched Cissy’s composure dissolve before her eyes. Pretty little Cissy-everyone thought she was vain and selfish, but Bella knew how hard Cissy tried to please everyone, how hard she tried to sublimate herself.
How delicious it was, just for once, to see her let herself go, think of nothing but the moment and her body and her pleasure. Cissy’s whole body had gone pink, and it was not the politely painted blush on the face of a china doll.
Let the world take her for a doll, if they will. For me, she comes alive. For me alone.