500 Watchers Ficlet: Taint (Sirius/Bellatrix, R)
I am so honoured to be a part of this community- thanks again to underlucious for the invite. This is my first post here, and my first time writing "proper" drabbles, also. Let me start off by saying that yes, my title does suck and I'm open to suggestions. ;)
Title: Taint
Rating: R
Pairing: Sirius/Bellatrix
Warnings: incest
Wordcount: 500
i.
First meeting is shy and proud and stubborn- dark deeds in dusty corners. Our innocence was long gone due to the blood and demon sort. Ancient tomes of riddles, vile traditions, silver spoons. Why cry when it’s all you’ve ever known? Once was enough, our first time our last, or so we thought then. We were shy, and he didn’t know how to move his hands so he wrapped them in my hair and pulled, black strands tangled in his fingers, hips grinding against me in frantic jerks, our breath hot and panting. My fingernails left marks on his skin.
ii.
When he whispers like he’s done so often in dark cool rooms, he calls me queen calls me angel calls my bluff, he wonders why I came, why I came in the dark with a stutterstumblefall, with the cool crazed calm of desperation on our breath, night on our breath, and he whispers in my hair like he’s done so often and he held me so I couldn’t escape, and the dark dark night was a mirrorblanketshadow for our fumbling and he wonders why he whispers, why he calls me queen and I laugh in the dark call him gone.
iii.
He doesn’t know of the son in my womb. He lives with scum, the blood contrast inexcusable. Trading birthright for dirt, the pure becomes sullied, name has no meaning except shame. Tempt me not in ways of the flesh, for the lion and snake shall not wed. My sex lies with another and my self is the dark lord’s, infallible. I have new meaning, his seed upon my tongue. Toast with absinthe to the slaughter, cries of pain transcend our tomb. Anything less reminds me of his treachery, and I want to beg forgiveness for the sins I will commit.
iv.
He’s not dead, my master, and I know he will find me, he will set me free, and all my dreams of riches and retributions- yes, they will come true. I see others in cells, wasting away from the arctic tendrils of fear that the soul-suckers make. They do not have the promise of the dark lord. I do, and it is more than my cousin has, who tries in vain to fend off their chill. Yes, he’s in here too, and he brings back memories of us, of our son and his fate. The dementors let me keep them.
v.
I can’t help but laugh at the way he falls, back and back and back, no time to say too bad for your only son, too bad for your cause and your son and your lost years. I am no fool, and I am not afraid, and I will live in a white palace without your tainted sex. The veil is a mirror to the fifteen years that passed between us, so flash remembrance of his jissom and his laughter and his son-not-son, and I can’t help but echo his laugh as he falls back, back, back through the veil.