Two HP Fics: Inheritance and Poison
Title: Inheritance
Rating: PG
Characters: Regulus and Narcissa
Word Count: 800
Summary: Regulus doesn't particularly want to be the heir to the House of Black. Narcissa's not fond of the idea, either.
Disclaimer: I just like to play with JKR's characters. They're not mine, I'm not profiting from this, and I mean no harm.
A/N: This is from anaid_rabbit's first drabble challenge (fandom nonspecific, anything accepted, including original fic). You can find the second drabble challenge here if you want to participate.
This fic is from Narcissa's point of view, as I was getting very tired of Narcissa-as-abused-doormat and Narcissa-as-brainless-trophy-wife.
Prompt #3. I am the son / And the heir / Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar / I am the son and heir / Of nothing in particular
"I-I don't want to be the son and heir of the House of Black," Regulus stammered, with more than a hint of desperation in his voice. "I don't."
Narcissa sighed as she glanced at her fifteen-year-old cousin. She was seven years Regulus's senior, and sometimes she felt seven times as mature as well.
"What you want is irrelevant," she explained patiently, wondering why she had to explain this to him in the first place. The children of the House of Black learned numerous lessons about both wizarding and Muggle property law, and they learned such lessons both early and well. "You know that the house and a goodly proportion of the estate are entailed. A male MUST inherit. It dates back from the time when our clan-name was Blaec."
"When we were Saxon wizard-chieftains," said Regulus with a small, wistful smile that shocked Narcissa. It smacked of naivete and sentimentality and all sorts of useless things. Weakening things. Narcissa clenched her fists and wished, fervently though futilely, that she had been born a man. It would have made things so much simpler.
Unfortunately, their ancestors had used blood ritual to bind the family wealth and the land on which Twelve Grimmauld Place stood to the designated male heir of the family. The reason was a quite practical one--if a member of a rival clan or a Muggle warrior stole a woman while she was sleeping, raped her publicly and then shared a fire with her, in the eyes of most, they would be married. Even if the witch managed to kill her rapist-husband afterwards, much of the Blacks' property, and a fair bit of their power, would then belong to the family of the rapist.
Men did not become wives and chattel once they had had sex, or been raped.
And men, unlike women, could legally use weapons in a fight, as well as magic.
As long as there was one male of Black descent alive, the family property and magic were safe.
Right now, they were down to Rigel and Regulus Black.
Alphard Black, the father of Narcissa and her sisters, had recently died. Their cousin Sirius had been officially disowned. Bellatrix was only sixteen, and somewhat wild. Narcissa had been married to Lucius Malfoy for two years, and so far they were childless. Andromeda was married--if you wanted to call it that--to a Mudblood. The only child she had was a three-year-old daughter, a child with as much proper shape as an amoeba. Narcissa shuddered at the thought.
That left Regulus's father, Rigel--whose mind and body were starting to show the ravages of the syphilis which she knew would kill him eventually--and shy, stammering Regulus.
It was grossly unjust that a sick old man and a shy boy could protect the wealth and power of their family while she--far more intelligent than either and capable of serpentine subtlety that neither Rigel nor Regulus had ever dreamt of--could not.
Regulus spoke, breaking into her thoughts.
"Couldn't I...not abdicate, but give up some of the property? Like the house?" Regulus attempted a wan smile. "There's nothing in particular in the house, only cursed snuffboxes and books that bite and heads of dead house-elves that watch everything."
Narcissa drew back in unfeigned horror. How could the boy comprehend so little of his sacred duty to his family?
"You must keep it all, Regulus," she said in an unsteady voice that nevertheless brooked no argument. "For the sake of the family, you must."
"But I don't want to!" Regulus glanced about him as if seeking escape from a trap. "I wasn't trained for this. I'm no good at leading people. They'll--they'll laugh. Sirius--"
"Sirius will not be coming back," Narcissa reminded him, speaking in the soft, unhurried voice one uses to calm fretful babies and panicked horses.
"I know." Regulus sounded petulant. "I'm not a complete idiot, Narcissa."
Narcissa considered half a dozen comebacks to that remark, and rejected them all as too easy. "I'm sure you'll be an excellent paterfamilias," she said instead, marvelling at her ability to keep a straight face as she said this. "And I'm certain that you'll serve the family well, in whatever capacity they require."
And if, after she bore a strong and healthy boy of Black descent, Regulus served the family best by dying...well. It would be a terrible tragedy if he got into a situation far beyond his control and lose his life, certainly.
A terrible tragedy for Regulus, at any rate. A definite blessing for the family, who would have the leader they deserved in her son.
"Don't worry, Regulus," she said gently, patting his pale, cold cheek. "I'm sure that everything is going to work out exactly as it should."
And Narcissa smiled.
***
Title: Poison
Rating: G
Characters: Regulus and Bellatrix--with maybe a hint of Regulus/Bellatrix
Word Count: 207
Summary: "Fascination" used to mean a binding and evil spell...
Disclaimer: I just like to play with JKR's characters. They're not mine, I'm not profiting from this, and I mean no harm.
A/N: This was done for queerditch_pub yesterday. I did three, but I'm not satisfied with the first, and the third is going to be expanded into a more fully developed fic.
Regulus/Bellatrix - "We did not change as we grew older; we just became more clearly ourselves."
Bellatrix, in the old sense of the word, fascinated Regulus. She drew him toward her whether he willed it or no, and he was always aware of a flicker of repulsion at the core of the attraction. You could look at a coral snake and love the brilliant colours and patterning of its scales, but you never forgot that it was poisonous.
Bellatrix never changed; she was always and forever herself. Perhaps that was what drew Regulus to her, for he had learned early on to become whatever others wished him to be.
She grew more and more beautiful over the years, and more and more terrible. Like the daughter of Rappaccini in the fable by the American wizard Hawthorne, Bellatrix seemed to have fed on poison. She was almost made of poison--eyes the colour of deadly nightshade, skin like white oleander. Hatred clung to her like a perfumed mist; her words were soft and sweet; her kisses and caresses--even to a boy of fourteen--were as seductive as they were cruel.
He was never sure what had poisoned him--her words, her touch, her kiss.
He only knew, with a mute horror, that there was no antidote, and that he would never be free.
Rating: PG
Characters: Regulus and Narcissa
Word Count: 800
Summary: Regulus doesn't particularly want to be the heir to the House of Black. Narcissa's not fond of the idea, either.
Disclaimer: I just like to play with JKR's characters. They're not mine, I'm not profiting from this, and I mean no harm.
A/N: This is from anaid_rabbit's first drabble challenge (fandom nonspecific, anything accepted, including original fic). You can find the second drabble challenge here if you want to participate.
This fic is from Narcissa's point of view, as I was getting very tired of Narcissa-as-abused-doormat and Narcissa-as-brainless-trophy-wife.
Prompt #3. I am the son / And the heir / Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar / I am the son and heir / Of nothing in particular
"I-I don't want to be the son and heir of the House of Black," Regulus stammered, with more than a hint of desperation in his voice. "I don't."
Narcissa sighed as she glanced at her fifteen-year-old cousin. She was seven years Regulus's senior, and sometimes she felt seven times as mature as well.
"What you want is irrelevant," she explained patiently, wondering why she had to explain this to him in the first place. The children of the House of Black learned numerous lessons about both wizarding and Muggle property law, and they learned such lessons both early and well. "You know that the house and a goodly proportion of the estate are entailed. A male MUST inherit. It dates back from the time when our clan-name was Blaec."
"When we were Saxon wizard-chieftains," said Regulus with a small, wistful smile that shocked Narcissa. It smacked of naivete and sentimentality and all sorts of useless things. Weakening things. Narcissa clenched her fists and wished, fervently though futilely, that she had been born a man. It would have made things so much simpler.
Unfortunately, their ancestors had used blood ritual to bind the family wealth and the land on which Twelve Grimmauld Place stood to the designated male heir of the family. The reason was a quite practical one--if a member of a rival clan or a Muggle warrior stole a woman while she was sleeping, raped her publicly and then shared a fire with her, in the eyes of most, they would be married. Even if the witch managed to kill her rapist-husband afterwards, much of the Blacks' property, and a fair bit of their power, would then belong to the family of the rapist.
Men did not become wives and chattel once they had had sex, or been raped.
And men, unlike women, could legally use weapons in a fight, as well as magic.
As long as there was one male of Black descent alive, the family property and magic were safe.
Right now, they were down to Rigel and Regulus Black.
Alphard Black, the father of Narcissa and her sisters, had recently died. Their cousin Sirius had been officially disowned. Bellatrix was only sixteen, and somewhat wild. Narcissa had been married to Lucius Malfoy for two years, and so far they were childless. Andromeda was married--if you wanted to call it that--to a Mudblood. The only child she had was a three-year-old daughter, a child with as much proper shape as an amoeba. Narcissa shuddered at the thought.
That left Regulus's father, Rigel--whose mind and body were starting to show the ravages of the syphilis which she knew would kill him eventually--and shy, stammering Regulus.
It was grossly unjust that a sick old man and a shy boy could protect the wealth and power of their family while she--far more intelligent than either and capable of serpentine subtlety that neither Rigel nor Regulus had ever dreamt of--could not.
Regulus spoke, breaking into her thoughts.
"Couldn't I...not abdicate, but give up some of the property? Like the house?" Regulus attempted a wan smile. "There's nothing in particular in the house, only cursed snuffboxes and books that bite and heads of dead house-elves that watch everything."
Narcissa drew back in unfeigned horror. How could the boy comprehend so little of his sacred duty to his family?
"You must keep it all, Regulus," she said in an unsteady voice that nevertheless brooked no argument. "For the sake of the family, you must."
"But I don't want to!" Regulus glanced about him as if seeking escape from a trap. "I wasn't trained for this. I'm no good at leading people. They'll--they'll laugh. Sirius--"
"Sirius will not be coming back," Narcissa reminded him, speaking in the soft, unhurried voice one uses to calm fretful babies and panicked horses.
"I know." Regulus sounded petulant. "I'm not a complete idiot, Narcissa."
Narcissa considered half a dozen comebacks to that remark, and rejected them all as too easy. "I'm sure you'll be an excellent paterfamilias," she said instead, marvelling at her ability to keep a straight face as she said this. "And I'm certain that you'll serve the family well, in whatever capacity they require."
And if, after she bore a strong and healthy boy of Black descent, Regulus served the family best by dying...well. It would be a terrible tragedy if he got into a situation far beyond his control and lose his life, certainly.
A terrible tragedy for Regulus, at any rate. A definite blessing for the family, who would have the leader they deserved in her son.
"Don't worry, Regulus," she said gently, patting his pale, cold cheek. "I'm sure that everything is going to work out exactly as it should."
And Narcissa smiled.
***
Title: Poison
Rating: G
Characters: Regulus and Bellatrix--with maybe a hint of Regulus/Bellatrix
Word Count: 207
Summary: "Fascination" used to mean a binding and evil spell...
Disclaimer: I just like to play with JKR's characters. They're not mine, I'm not profiting from this, and I mean no harm.
A/N: This was done for queerditch_pub yesterday. I did three, but I'm not satisfied with the first, and the third is going to be expanded into a more fully developed fic.
Regulus/Bellatrix - "We did not change as we grew older; we just became more clearly ourselves."
Bellatrix, in the old sense of the word, fascinated Regulus. She drew him toward her whether he willed it or no, and he was always aware of a flicker of repulsion at the core of the attraction. You could look at a coral snake and love the brilliant colours and patterning of its scales, but you never forgot that it was poisonous.
Bellatrix never changed; she was always and forever herself. Perhaps that was what drew Regulus to her, for he had learned early on to become whatever others wished him to be.
She grew more and more beautiful over the years, and more and more terrible. Like the daughter of Rappaccini in the fable by the American wizard Hawthorne, Bellatrix seemed to have fed on poison. She was almost made of poison--eyes the colour of deadly nightshade, skin like white oleander. Hatred clung to her like a perfumed mist; her words were soft and sweet; her kisses and caresses--even to a boy of fourteen--were as seductive as they were cruel.
He was never sure what had poisoned him--her words, her touch, her kiss.
He only knew, with a mute horror, that there was no antidote, and that he would never be free.