fic: no challenge: when all that's lost remains; sirius/bellatrix, pg-13
Title: When All That's Lost Remains
Summary: He shouldn't have come.
Characters/Pairings: Sirius/Bellatrix
Genre: angst, drama
Beta: Beta'd by my sister.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 (incest between first cousins, some foul language)
Medium: fic
Word Count: 1004
There are things that are not said-that are simply not talked about-within the Black family.
Firstly, there is Sirius, who has run away to live with the Potters. He is a traitorous stain on the family tree; an ugly, black mark on the canvas. His mother has not spoken of him in three years. It is as if Sirius Black never existed at all.
Then there is Andy, another blot on their history, one that is made more disgraceful by way of her marriage. The rumours of her pregnancy are not voiced, although Bellatrix caught Narcissa writing a letter to her nearly six months ago. The incident was not repeated. Maybe, though, Narcissa has merely gotten better at lying.
Lastly-and, maybe, most importantly-there is the matter of Regulus' death.
Bellatrix Black stands very silently next to her younger sister as her aunt presents the eulogy, her dry, crackling voice doing little to soothe Bella's frayed nerves. She does not wonder where Regulus' body is, though she is sure that every other present person's thoughts are consumed completely by it. Bodies do not disappear from the universe.
The empty casket is lowered into the ground by means of magic, the simple spell-work bringing it into the earth in a shower of blue sparks. She rubs her left forearm almost absent-mindedly, wincing at the soreness there.
The Dark Lord always mourns the loss of one of his own.
As the final spells are cast and people begin to leave, Bella notices the blur of a Disillusionment Charm near the Mausoleum that houses Cassiopeia and Eridanus Black. The last words are spoken and Walburga Black throws a handful of dirt in after the casket, looking for all the world as if she is burying a stranger. It is a short funeral, even shorter than her uncle, Orion's, and nobody wants to linger. Rather than Apparate immediately, Bella chooses to walk some of the way, making sure to keep the Mausoleum in her sights.
“I shall see you at Grimmauld,” she tells Narcissa, waving her away when she begins to follow. For a moment, Cissy looks hurt, but it fades from her face almost instantly. She Disapparates without argument.
Bella is nearly out of the graveyard when the twig cracks. It is quiet, almost unnoticeable in it's silence, but she stops the pretence.
“Sirius,” she greets, still walking.
“Bella,” he answers, voice rasping with some barely-kept emotion that she has no use for.
“Come to see your brother buried?” she asks, and it is a callous, cruel thing to say.
Some people would say that Bella is a callous, cruel girl, though. There are worse things, she thinks.
“Yes,” he says, the usual sarcastic tone not present today. They are beyond that, she thinks, especially now, today.
“His body's still missing,” Bella says, trying to remain detached and neutral. The tightening around his eyes is more than satisfying, and she almost smiles. Sirius has always been easy to upset.
“I know,” he says, finally catching up to her. They make their way down the walkway that will eventually lead them to London silently, both lost in their own thoughts.
“It should have been you,” she says, and she is not trying to be cruel at this moment, though she knows he will still think that is what she is doing. “He was too young to take the mantle up. It should have been you, the older brother, the first-born.”
He grabs her then, yanking her wrist until she is smacking into him, her forehead banging painfully against his chin-when did he get so tall?-and his fingers tug at her jaw so that she is looking up at him, eyes meeting his. Bella closes hers first, and then they are kissing.
It is not sweet or pleasant-not really enjoyable, either. Their teeth clash brutally and she thinks the inside of her mouth may be bleeding. His hands skim up her side, one settling at her waist, while the other reaches to tangle in the long, tangled darkness that is her hair.
Her own hands work their way under his shirt, sharp nails running along the planes of his stomach and chest. She digs them in enough to hope that she is drawing blood.
Bella pulls him closer, hands splayed out on his chest, which she notices has lost all of the weakness of childhood. He has broadened out, hardened, and she was not there to see it happen.
She finds that this bothers her much more than it should.
“Bella,” he whispers, breaking the kiss to get at the ties of her robes. They are behind the graveyard now, hidden from prying eyes, but the thought of somebody-anybody-seeing them has her breaking away.
There had been a time when they could have fit together, the two pieces of themselves lining up just right, but that time is long passed. The time for pretty words and whispered lies is gone. This is all that's left for them.
“Get off of me,” she hisses, shoving him away with as much force as she can muster. It sends him back a foot or so, and he laughs, a horrible, throaty sort of sound. The sound is grating, and she nearly smacks him across the face.
“I know,” he says, stepping back and rocking on his heels, obviously taken by some nervous energy. She has never seen Sirius look so exhausted. There is stubble on his cheeks, his hair has grown beyond his shoulders, and his eyes are hooded and dark. He looks as if he hasn't slept in days, and Bella knows him well enough to think that maybe he hasn't.
“You know?” Bella questions, the bite still in her tone.
“That it should have been me to die, not my brother,” he says. “You didn't need to inform me of the fact, cousin.”
Barely a moment passes before he Disapparates away.
Sighing, Bellatrix does the same.
Meghan/Gryffindor/33 points
Summary: He shouldn't have come.
Characters/Pairings: Sirius/Bellatrix
Genre: angst, drama
Beta: Beta'd by my sister.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 (incest between first cousins, some foul language)
Medium: fic
Word Count: 1004
There are things that are not said-that are simply not talked about-within the Black family.
Firstly, there is Sirius, who has run away to live with the Potters. He is a traitorous stain on the family tree; an ugly, black mark on the canvas. His mother has not spoken of him in three years. It is as if Sirius Black never existed at all.
Then there is Andy, another blot on their history, one that is made more disgraceful by way of her marriage. The rumours of her pregnancy are not voiced, although Bellatrix caught Narcissa writing a letter to her nearly six months ago. The incident was not repeated. Maybe, though, Narcissa has merely gotten better at lying.
Lastly-and, maybe, most importantly-there is the matter of Regulus' death.
Bellatrix Black stands very silently next to her younger sister as her aunt presents the eulogy, her dry, crackling voice doing little to soothe Bella's frayed nerves. She does not wonder where Regulus' body is, though she is sure that every other present person's thoughts are consumed completely by it. Bodies do not disappear from the universe.
The empty casket is lowered into the ground by means of magic, the simple spell-work bringing it into the earth in a shower of blue sparks. She rubs her left forearm almost absent-mindedly, wincing at the soreness there.
The Dark Lord always mourns the loss of one of his own.
As the final spells are cast and people begin to leave, Bella notices the blur of a Disillusionment Charm near the Mausoleum that houses Cassiopeia and Eridanus Black. The last words are spoken and Walburga Black throws a handful of dirt in after the casket, looking for all the world as if she is burying a stranger. It is a short funeral, even shorter than her uncle, Orion's, and nobody wants to linger. Rather than Apparate immediately, Bella chooses to walk some of the way, making sure to keep the Mausoleum in her sights.
“I shall see you at Grimmauld,” she tells Narcissa, waving her away when she begins to follow. For a moment, Cissy looks hurt, but it fades from her face almost instantly. She Disapparates without argument.
Bella is nearly out of the graveyard when the twig cracks. It is quiet, almost unnoticeable in it's silence, but she stops the pretence.
“Sirius,” she greets, still walking.
“Bella,” he answers, voice rasping with some barely-kept emotion that she has no use for.
“Come to see your brother buried?” she asks, and it is a callous, cruel thing to say.
Some people would say that Bella is a callous, cruel girl, though. There are worse things, she thinks.
“Yes,” he says, the usual sarcastic tone not present today. They are beyond that, she thinks, especially now, today.
“His body's still missing,” Bella says, trying to remain detached and neutral. The tightening around his eyes is more than satisfying, and she almost smiles. Sirius has always been easy to upset.
“I know,” he says, finally catching up to her. They make their way down the walkway that will eventually lead them to London silently, both lost in their own thoughts.
“It should have been you,” she says, and she is not trying to be cruel at this moment, though she knows he will still think that is what she is doing. “He was too young to take the mantle up. It should have been you, the older brother, the first-born.”
He grabs her then, yanking her wrist until she is smacking into him, her forehead banging painfully against his chin-when did he get so tall?-and his fingers tug at her jaw so that she is looking up at him, eyes meeting his. Bella closes hers first, and then they are kissing.
It is not sweet or pleasant-not really enjoyable, either. Their teeth clash brutally and she thinks the inside of her mouth may be bleeding. His hands skim up her side, one settling at her waist, while the other reaches to tangle in the long, tangled darkness that is her hair.
Her own hands work their way under his shirt, sharp nails running along the planes of his stomach and chest. She digs them in enough to hope that she is drawing blood.
Bella pulls him closer, hands splayed out on his chest, which she notices has lost all of the weakness of childhood. He has broadened out, hardened, and she was not there to see it happen.
She finds that this bothers her much more than it should.
“Bella,” he whispers, breaking the kiss to get at the ties of her robes. They are behind the graveyard now, hidden from prying eyes, but the thought of somebody-anybody-seeing them has her breaking away.
There had been a time when they could have fit together, the two pieces of themselves lining up just right, but that time is long passed. The time for pretty words and whispered lies is gone. This is all that's left for them.
“Get off of me,” she hisses, shoving him away with as much force as she can muster. It sends him back a foot or so, and he laughs, a horrible, throaty sort of sound. The sound is grating, and she nearly smacks him across the face.
“I know,” he says, stepping back and rocking on his heels, obviously taken by some nervous energy. She has never seen Sirius look so exhausted. There is stubble on his cheeks, his hair has grown beyond his shoulders, and his eyes are hooded and dark. He looks as if he hasn't slept in days, and Bella knows him well enough to think that maybe he hasn't.
“You know?” Bella questions, the bite still in her tone.
“That it should have been me to die, not my brother,” he says. “You didn't need to inform me of the fact, cousin.”
Barely a moment passes before he Disapparates away.
Sighing, Bellatrix does the same.
Meghan/Gryffindor/33 points