Fic challenge #195: Stories of Yourself and Others
Title: Stories of Yourself and Others
Summary: Tom Riddle teaches Bellatrix about self image. Written in response to “another story”.
Characters/Pairings: Tom Riddle, Bellatrix Black
Genre: General
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 746
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: Sure
If yes, your Tumblr username: N/A
“Today we practice one of the more subtle arts.”
Bellatrix’s eyes shone with eagerness, though she waited patiently for me to continue.
“Tell me who you are, Bella.”
Her confusion was palpable. “My Lord?”
I arched an eyebrow. “You heard me.”
“I’m...I’m Bella, sir.”
“Bella?” I let contempt and disappointment fill my voice. “You have only that meager name to call your own? Such a pity.”
She drew back as if I’d slapped her. “No! I mean, no, sir, my name is Bellatrix Druella Black.”
“Better.” I tilted my head to the side, holding her gaze. “But that’s only what you’re called. I asked you who you were.”
“My Lord?” She was starting to wither under my disapproving attention, but still kept her voice even.
Ah, skillful girl, so much to teach you.
I sighed audibly, playing the long-suffering mentor who despaired of his pupil ever reaching enlightenment. Then I grabbed her drooping chin and lifted it sharply. “Tell me the story of who you are, Bellatrix Druella Black.”
Her eyes widened. “St-story?”
I smiled benevolently, my grip on her chin as unyielding as stone. “Here, I’ll help you begin. Once upon a time, there was a girl who felt alone - unseen, unvalued, unloved. But what no one realized was that the most powerful wizard in the world had seen her. He saw her and he valued her, and he knew what she could become.”
“Did he...did he love her?”
Oh, such crystalline hope in those words. Simply precious. “It’s your story, Bella. Did he?”
Wetness glittered at the corner of her eyes. “What does it matter what I say? What matters is truth, sir.”
I widened my smile into something wicked. “Is that so? What if I told you the stories we tell ourselves make the truth?”
She shook her head, fighting against my grip on her chin. “But...but that’s not how reality works, sir!”
“Sweet Bella, when it comes to self-image, that’s exactly how it works.” I released her chin and traced the line of her jaw with my thumb. “Let me begin another story for you. Once upon a time, there was a fierce and powerful witch sleeping beneath the shell of a well-trained, well-behaved girl from an oh-so-proper family.” I let my mouth drift next to her ear. “All she needed was someone who saw that to wake her up.” I inhaled the scent of her hair, and felt her shiver beneath me. “Do you like this story better?”
There was silence for a space of heartbeats. “It depends on how he wakes her up, sir.” Mischief floated through her voice.
Good girl. “You try the next one.” I wove my fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, and let them dance across the sensitive skin there. “Once,” I kissed the curve of her ear, “upon a time...”
Her inhalation was a sharp, exciting thing. “Once upon a time, there was a brilliant witch who found herself a very brilliant teacher.”
“Mmm, I like the active role your brilliant witch is taking.” My mouth hovered just above her neck, my breath hot on her skin. “Do continue.”
She swallowed, her pulse quickening. “Her teacher encouraged her potential, challenging her, stretching her to her limits until she realized those weren’t her limits anymore. His ways were varied, from cruel to kind and back again-” She broke off as I tugged on the hair at the base of her neck.
“Tell me more about the witch, hmm?”
She nodded to herself. “The witch strove to learn...everything. To make her teacher proud of her. She knew he taught her the way he did because he believed she was worth teaching. Because he believed she was special, worthy. Because he believed in her.” She bit her lip. “Because...because he...because...”
I stroked one finger slowly down her neck. “Because what?”
“Because he loved her.” The words whispered out of her on a breath of sweet naïveté.
I let them curl between us, a susurration of secrets. “And did she love him back?”
Her breath hitched. “Always.”
“And that’s how she survived his cruel ways, is it? Knowing that,” I kissed her temple softly, “feeling that?”
She nodded, tears threatening the corners of her eyes again.
“Oh, Bellatrix mine,” I breathed into her hair, “my special, worthy, brilliant witch.” I slid my mouth to her eye to catch the salty wetness there. “That is a very fine story indeed.”
30 points
Summary: Tom Riddle teaches Bellatrix about self image. Written in response to “another story”.
Characters/Pairings: Tom Riddle, Bellatrix Black
Genre: General
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 746
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: Sure
If yes, your Tumblr username: N/A
“Today we practice one of the more subtle arts.”
Bellatrix’s eyes shone with eagerness, though she waited patiently for me to continue.
“Tell me who you are, Bella.”
Her confusion was palpable. “My Lord?”
I arched an eyebrow. “You heard me.”
“I’m...I’m Bella, sir.”
“Bella?” I let contempt and disappointment fill my voice. “You have only that meager name to call your own? Such a pity.”
She drew back as if I’d slapped her. “No! I mean, no, sir, my name is Bellatrix Druella Black.”
“Better.” I tilted my head to the side, holding her gaze. “But that’s only what you’re called. I asked you who you were.”
“My Lord?” She was starting to wither under my disapproving attention, but still kept her voice even.
Ah, skillful girl, so much to teach you.
I sighed audibly, playing the long-suffering mentor who despaired of his pupil ever reaching enlightenment. Then I grabbed her drooping chin and lifted it sharply. “Tell me the story of who you are, Bellatrix Druella Black.”
Her eyes widened. “St-story?”
I smiled benevolently, my grip on her chin as unyielding as stone. “Here, I’ll help you begin. Once upon a time, there was a girl who felt alone - unseen, unvalued, unloved. But what no one realized was that the most powerful wizard in the world had seen her. He saw her and he valued her, and he knew what she could become.”
“Did he...did he love her?”
Oh, such crystalline hope in those words. Simply precious. “It’s your story, Bella. Did he?”
Wetness glittered at the corner of her eyes. “What does it matter what I say? What matters is truth, sir.”
I widened my smile into something wicked. “Is that so? What if I told you the stories we tell ourselves make the truth?”
She shook her head, fighting against my grip on her chin. “But...but that’s not how reality works, sir!”
“Sweet Bella, when it comes to self-image, that’s exactly how it works.” I released her chin and traced the line of her jaw with my thumb. “Let me begin another story for you. Once upon a time, there was a fierce and powerful witch sleeping beneath the shell of a well-trained, well-behaved girl from an oh-so-proper family.” I let my mouth drift next to her ear. “All she needed was someone who saw that to wake her up.” I inhaled the scent of her hair, and felt her shiver beneath me. “Do you like this story better?”
There was silence for a space of heartbeats. “It depends on how he wakes her up, sir.” Mischief floated through her voice.
Good girl. “You try the next one.” I wove my fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, and let them dance across the sensitive skin there. “Once,” I kissed the curve of her ear, “upon a time...”
Her inhalation was a sharp, exciting thing. “Once upon a time, there was a brilliant witch who found herself a very brilliant teacher.”
“Mmm, I like the active role your brilliant witch is taking.” My mouth hovered just above her neck, my breath hot on her skin. “Do continue.”
She swallowed, her pulse quickening. “Her teacher encouraged her potential, challenging her, stretching her to her limits until she realized those weren’t her limits anymore. His ways were varied, from cruel to kind and back again-” She broke off as I tugged on the hair at the base of her neck.
“Tell me more about the witch, hmm?”
She nodded to herself. “The witch strove to learn...everything. To make her teacher proud of her. She knew he taught her the way he did because he believed she was worth teaching. Because he believed she was special, worthy. Because he believed in her.” She bit her lip. “Because...because he...because...”
I stroked one finger slowly down her neck. “Because what?”
“Because he loved her.” The words whispered out of her on a breath of sweet naïveté.
I let them curl between us, a susurration of secrets. “And did she love him back?”
Her breath hitched. “Always.”
“And that’s how she survived his cruel ways, is it? Knowing that,” I kissed her temple softly, “feeling that?”
She nodded, tears threatening the corners of her eyes again.
“Oh, Bellatrix mine,” I breathed into her hair, “my special, worthy, brilliant witch.” I slid my mouth to her eye to catch the salty wetness there. “That is a very fine story indeed.”
30 points