The Shadow Of The Other (2)
Title: The Shadow Of The Other.
Fandom: Harry Potter.
Pairing: Bellatrix/Sirius, implied Bellatrix/Voldemort.
Warnings: Mild incestuous behaviour.
Summary: When Bellatrix was twenty-one and Sirius was sixteen, their parents agreed that they were to be wed...
Author's Notes: Took me ages to finish, so my apologies for the unevenness.
Disclaimer: Still JKR's, loves. Not mine, unfortunately.
He would have to leave using the front door. His bedroom window is small, and he is on the top floor. Nice view of mainstream London; nice view of his captivity. He lives in a fairytale, does Sirius Black, a fairytale that he is desperate to bring to a close; he will do this tonight. He will burst out of it the moment he closes his front door behind him. The thought makes him shudder with pleasure.
His bedroom door swings open silently. He probably would’ve done his victory dance prematurely, had the brass handle not knocked against the intimidating wooden cabinet that stood behind the door.
Sirius freezes.
Bellatrix closes the door, turning away from him to do so. Quite unnecessary.
She turns to face him, silent, lethal and beautiful. His head screams at him, a mixture of ‘siren’, ‘whore’, ‘run’ and ‘she’s my [i]cousin[/i]!’ The latter seemed to always nag at him when Bellatrix is in close proximity, but there again, many thoughts - traitorous and vicious - ran through his head when he passed his eyes over his eldest cousin’s form.
She was a woman. Not like all the others he’d been with; they were all girls. Uninteresting, undeveloped little girls. Bellatrix’s figure was full, all voluptuous curves, plump breasts and legs that were too long. She blinks at him for what seems like minutes, her fiery gaze unwavering, determined. Strong, just like her. He’s not stupid enough to believe she’s not dangerous. Automatically, his gaze lowers to her left arm, the soft-red light of sunset reflecting in his blue eyes. Pure blood disappearing within dirty water.
“What do you want?”
“Going somewhere?” She asks, ignoring his question and stepping into the room, moving her eyes from his only to glance at the stuffed rucksack lying unzipped on the grand four-poster.
“Why are you here?”
Bellatrix sighs, moving past Sirius slowly, brushing her arm against his as she goes. Her dark hair ripples behind her as she sits down, half-turned away from Sirius as she pokes around the topmost items of the rucksack. “Looks like you’re going away for a long while, little cousin.” Her statement is simple, innocent, yet he knows she knows. That flare in her eye tells him so.
“Stop ignoring me!” He snaps agitatedly, fed up of her indifferent attitude. She came here this evening, she came to him. The cracking noise of his voice causes her to lift her chin slowly, smirk rolling across her face. “What do you want?” He repeats, determined not to break her steely gaze.
Bellatrix sighs, and all of a sudden, she’s too close to him. He continues to look back at her, their eyes level. He will grow to be taller than her; she has stopped growing, and he has not. “I wanted to see you. Make sure we’re both disagreeing with our parents about our betrothal.” She quirks a brow at him challengingly.
Sirius snorts, stepping past her to gather more non-existent items and stuff them into his overflowing bag. Strange, that everything he will own, in an hour or so, will be in this old sack. “Don’t flatter yourself, Trixie,” he glances over his shoulder, equalling her arched brow, “I want to marry you even less than you want to marry me.”
“Unlikely!” She exclaims, her cool façade abandoned for a second, and the light of the sunset bounces against her raven locks, and he is reminded that she is beautiful. But too fucking deadly. “You’re a filthy little Gryffindor, as good as a blood-traitor,” she states, her air of calm returned, running one hand through her hair with a slight air of coquettishness to the action. She is challenging him. “And, by the looks of it, you’ll be that, too. Soon.”
He doesn’t deny it, merely blinks at her for a moment. The sky outside waves to him, and he cannot wait to taste the air. Little effort, however, drags his attention back to the vixen at his side. She is not about to back down, he realises, so draws himself up to his full height and stares her in the eye once more. “I have this funny feeling, Bellatrix, that I shan’t be missed. Being the ‘filthy little Gryffindor’ of the family that I am.” He smirks.
She kisses him. Not on the cheek, where it could be considered an innocent and proper kiss goodbye, and not for a split second, where it could have been brushed off as an impulse, spur-of-the-moment thing. It was on the lips, full and open-mouthed and unabashed, at least on Bellatrix’s part. Sirius stands still, unmoving in his shock. He’s ashamed of himself; he should have seen this coming. Two words: Bellatrix Black. “What the hell are you doing, you whore?!” He demands, pushing her away from him.
Bellatrix sees the well-masked reluctance as he takes a step back from her, scowling. “Well, I thought that it was quite obvious, dearest cousin,” and she cackles, and he is reminded that he hates her. He hates her, but she is so enticing. He stares at her for a moment, confusion hidden from the woman, but there. Damn her to fucking hell.
“It’s not funny! You came to see if I agreed to disagree with my parents, I do. Thanks, Bellatrix, and goodbye.” He finishes sarcastically, turning away from her and busies himself by straightening his bed-sheets and wiping a coat of dust from the table-top.
But she’s still there, still laughing, and still beautiful. He hates her. She has moved to the window, and mutters in French. Sirius only understands ‘au contraire’. Bellatrix is much brighter than she was given credit for, the male Black realises as he yanks the zip of his rucksack around. Perhaps it will break on his journey, but it won’t matter… as long as he’s out of here. Away from his family… away from her.
She is watching him. The room has darkened, and he thinks it is her presence. The sun is setting, but it is Bellatrix. “It’s a shame.”
“What is?”
“You.”
She smirks momentarily, then runs her left hand through her hair. It’s a habit of hers, but she does it on purpose. She also flicks her tongue over her lips deliberately, smoking eyes clenched onto him unblinkingly, purposefully. He rolls his eyes. “Going to run off and tell my mother I’m leaving, I suppose?” He asks, folding his arms across his chest in typical teen style.
“It’s a shame.” She repeats, right hand now stroking her left forearm. Sirius swallows and shakes his head. She’s a lost cause; fucking insane, but too beautiful.
“You’re the shame, Bella.” He hadn’t meant for it to come out, and it’s not until Bellatrix is laughing and stalking towards him that he realises it has.
“How so?” She is too close again, hand on his chest as she stares at him. She makes him feel small, but he’d never admit that. Sirius doesn’t push her away this time, but gives her a dark look that she inadvertently returns. “I’m making the family proud, Sirius.”
He shakes his head, “That’s not what I mean.” He breaks her gaze for a second, sheepish and annoyed with himself. When she quirks a brow, he finds himself replying detachedly; “You’re clever. You’re a manipulative little bitch, but subtle… you know, when you’re not stamping someone’s head into a pavement,” Bellatrix smirks, proud and appreciative. “And you’re…” But he stops himself, making to move away from her.
But she stops him.
Her hand closes around his dark travelling cloak and she has strength enough to hold him in his place. “Go on,” she whispers darkly, “you can say it.” She stares at him for a moment longer, then grins, “But you won’t. No matter, Sirius, I know.”
“We could have done with you.” He finishes, though they both know that isn’t what he wished to say.
“We?” She cackles once more, though her grip is unyielding, “So that’s it, then? You’re not an us anymore, you’re a them.” Statement. Accurate statement. He nods his confirmation all the same. He thinks she is going to spit at him; she breaks his gaze, and when her eyes are returned to his, they almost burn him, almost hurt him.
Almost.
Still, the silence smarts. He tells himself it is not her touch, not her eyes, that’s causing the fiery eruption at his navel - it is simply the silence. He wants to say something to break it, but no words can be summoned. The witch is clearly thinking about something; her eyes stare at him, yet they are elsewhere.
Sirius laughs, just to stir her back to reality; he knows she won’t ask. Bellatrix stares at her cousin as if this was the first time she had truly seen him. Her jaw slackened a little, she sighed out her breath, quiet and accepting, then broke the stare. “I can only presume that your delight is because this is likely to be the last time you see me, dear cousin.”
Yet they both knew that was not true. They would see each other again, through flashes of violent light, blurs of robes, lowered hoods and hollow, icy masks. They both knew Sirius would join the Order of the Phoenix, and that by doing this, he and Bellatrix would have to fight. Gone were the times of cruel but harmless hexes, hair-pulling, slaps across the face in the corridors… No. Soon, Sirius would join the battle. It would not be a game.
But Bellatrix was determined to win this last one.
She watches for a moment as his eyes travel around the room, before walking her fingers up his chest, sliding them past his neck and using them to turn his face towards her. “You will miss me, Siri’,” she grins, “You’ll never admit it, not to anyone. Not even to yourself.” She pauses, nails grazing his strong jaw as she stares at him, “The same can be said for a lot of things. You need to grow up, ickle cousin. You need to start… admitting things to yourself.”
“You are bonkers, Bellatrix. Absolutely fucking insane.” Her laugh only serves to prove his point. It is high and cold, piercing… She shrugs whilst reminding him that she is right, saying that he’s avoiding the truth. “Yeah, you keep thinking that, Trix’.”
“And you keep thinking that you’re not, Siri. The truth is, no-one’s fooled by it.” She lowers her eyes and smiles, dropping her fingers to his chest. “I bet your mummy and daddy are downstairs as we speak, discussing how your vehement refusal to marry me really means that there’s some,” the harridan’s eyes meet her cousin’s again as she drags her fingertips down his torso, “passion, for me, somewhere around here.” She laughs as she presses down on his abdomen, aware that a horrible writhing would be occurring below the skin that was beneath her artful touch.
Sirius kisses her just to shut her up. He knows she would’ve been expecting him to deny it furiously, as he had been everything this evening. This way, he would shock her, and though her lips burn against his own, he crushes them down harder. Hopefully, her lips would bruise and her darling mother would knock her about a bit for behaving in such a promiscuous, unladylike manner.
“No, I did not just prove your point, you little bitch,” Sirius snaps before Bellatrix can even catch her breath. “It appears that the only way to shut you the fucking hell up is to make you. Now excuse me, I must go and wash my mouth out with soap, and then, I’ll be off. I really hope you have a repulsive life. God knows you deserve it.”
As Sirius’s knocks his cousin on his way past, she jolts back to earth, furious and confused. When did he gain control of the situation?! She whips around, ample chest heaving in the strange fusion of the kiss’s aftermath and her fury. Bellatrix, acting - as always - on impulse, pursues her younger cousin with animalistic speed, pulls him around and presses her wand to his throat. He laughs, laughs in the face of an insulted, confused Death Eater. Sirius Black never did know when to stop.
“Come on then, Trixie. Let’s see what clever little jinxes old Vold’ has taught you.” In life, each person eventually reaches the point where they are so tired that they stop caring about what happens to them. Sirius has reached this point; his recklessness in the face of death himself emerged from his hopelessness. Of course, he wants to get a rise out of cousin Bellatrix for the last time, leave her life on a high. If she kills him now, he would die knowing that he’d had the upper hand over Bellatrix Black. And oh, that was worth dying for.
For a moment, Bellatrix stares at her cousin, the light in her eyes burning intensely, as if she wants to rip out her cousin’s tongue and pray to her Lord for peace on her abused and loyal ears. No servant should have to hear his name uttered by someone so unworthy, so filthy. Only for a moment did Bellatrix stare at her cousin. “Crucio!”
Amidst the agony, Sirius feels a strange sense of satisfied curiosity. This was what it felt like. He is aware that Bellatrix is clinging to his hair, holding him up, aware that her face bore a look of pure malignance, aware that his lips were whimpering.
“You, dear cousin, amuse nobody but yourself. Your stupidity will only take you to similar places,” she mutters something under her breath, a rapid, chanting tirade that Sirius’s ringing ears could not understand. “I see you’re happiness to disrespect my lord has worn, somewhat. Good.” She lets go of his hair and his legs gave up the fight. His body is helpless as he stares up at Bellatrix, but his mind will never give up the fight.
Her eyes scan him once more, taking in his odd angle, his messy hair, his deep, beautiful anger-filled eyes, and she hates him. “It really is a shame, Sirius.”
Fandom: Harry Potter.
Pairing: Bellatrix/Sirius, implied Bellatrix/Voldemort.
Warnings: Mild incestuous behaviour.
Summary: When Bellatrix was twenty-one and Sirius was sixteen, their parents agreed that they were to be wed...
Author's Notes: Took me ages to finish, so my apologies for the unevenness.
Disclaimer: Still JKR's, loves. Not mine, unfortunately.
He would have to leave using the front door. His bedroom window is small, and he is on the top floor. Nice view of mainstream London; nice view of his captivity. He lives in a fairytale, does Sirius Black, a fairytale that he is desperate to bring to a close; he will do this tonight. He will burst out of it the moment he closes his front door behind him. The thought makes him shudder with pleasure.
His bedroom door swings open silently. He probably would’ve done his victory dance prematurely, had the brass handle not knocked against the intimidating wooden cabinet that stood behind the door.
Sirius freezes.
Bellatrix closes the door, turning away from him to do so. Quite unnecessary.
She turns to face him, silent, lethal and beautiful. His head screams at him, a mixture of ‘siren’, ‘whore’, ‘run’ and ‘she’s my [i]cousin[/i]!’ The latter seemed to always nag at him when Bellatrix is in close proximity, but there again, many thoughts - traitorous and vicious - ran through his head when he passed his eyes over his eldest cousin’s form.
She was a woman. Not like all the others he’d been with; they were all girls. Uninteresting, undeveloped little girls. Bellatrix’s figure was full, all voluptuous curves, plump breasts and legs that were too long. She blinks at him for what seems like minutes, her fiery gaze unwavering, determined. Strong, just like her. He’s not stupid enough to believe she’s not dangerous. Automatically, his gaze lowers to her left arm, the soft-red light of sunset reflecting in his blue eyes. Pure blood disappearing within dirty water.
“What do you want?”
“Going somewhere?” She asks, ignoring his question and stepping into the room, moving her eyes from his only to glance at the stuffed rucksack lying unzipped on the grand four-poster.
“Why are you here?”
Bellatrix sighs, moving past Sirius slowly, brushing her arm against his as she goes. Her dark hair ripples behind her as she sits down, half-turned away from Sirius as she pokes around the topmost items of the rucksack. “Looks like you’re going away for a long while, little cousin.” Her statement is simple, innocent, yet he knows she knows. That flare in her eye tells him so.
“Stop ignoring me!” He snaps agitatedly, fed up of her indifferent attitude. She came here this evening, she came to him. The cracking noise of his voice causes her to lift her chin slowly, smirk rolling across her face. “What do you want?” He repeats, determined not to break her steely gaze.
Bellatrix sighs, and all of a sudden, she’s too close to him. He continues to look back at her, their eyes level. He will grow to be taller than her; she has stopped growing, and he has not. “I wanted to see you. Make sure we’re both disagreeing with our parents about our betrothal.” She quirks a brow at him challengingly.
Sirius snorts, stepping past her to gather more non-existent items and stuff them into his overflowing bag. Strange, that everything he will own, in an hour or so, will be in this old sack. “Don’t flatter yourself, Trixie,” he glances over his shoulder, equalling her arched brow, “I want to marry you even less than you want to marry me.”
“Unlikely!” She exclaims, her cool façade abandoned for a second, and the light of the sunset bounces against her raven locks, and he is reminded that she is beautiful. But too fucking deadly. “You’re a filthy little Gryffindor, as good as a blood-traitor,” she states, her air of calm returned, running one hand through her hair with a slight air of coquettishness to the action. She is challenging him. “And, by the looks of it, you’ll be that, too. Soon.”
He doesn’t deny it, merely blinks at her for a moment. The sky outside waves to him, and he cannot wait to taste the air. Little effort, however, drags his attention back to the vixen at his side. She is not about to back down, he realises, so draws himself up to his full height and stares her in the eye once more. “I have this funny feeling, Bellatrix, that I shan’t be missed. Being the ‘filthy little Gryffindor’ of the family that I am.” He smirks.
She kisses him. Not on the cheek, where it could be considered an innocent and proper kiss goodbye, and not for a split second, where it could have been brushed off as an impulse, spur-of-the-moment thing. It was on the lips, full and open-mouthed and unabashed, at least on Bellatrix’s part. Sirius stands still, unmoving in his shock. He’s ashamed of himself; he should have seen this coming. Two words: Bellatrix Black. “What the hell are you doing, you whore?!” He demands, pushing her away from him.
Bellatrix sees the well-masked reluctance as he takes a step back from her, scowling. “Well, I thought that it was quite obvious, dearest cousin,” and she cackles, and he is reminded that he hates her. He hates her, but she is so enticing. He stares at her for a moment, confusion hidden from the woman, but there. Damn her to fucking hell.
“It’s not funny! You came to see if I agreed to disagree with my parents, I do. Thanks, Bellatrix, and goodbye.” He finishes sarcastically, turning away from her and busies himself by straightening his bed-sheets and wiping a coat of dust from the table-top.
But she’s still there, still laughing, and still beautiful. He hates her. She has moved to the window, and mutters in French. Sirius only understands ‘au contraire’. Bellatrix is much brighter than she was given credit for, the male Black realises as he yanks the zip of his rucksack around. Perhaps it will break on his journey, but it won’t matter… as long as he’s out of here. Away from his family… away from her.
She is watching him. The room has darkened, and he thinks it is her presence. The sun is setting, but it is Bellatrix. “It’s a shame.”
“What is?”
“You.”
She smirks momentarily, then runs her left hand through her hair. It’s a habit of hers, but she does it on purpose. She also flicks her tongue over her lips deliberately, smoking eyes clenched onto him unblinkingly, purposefully. He rolls his eyes. “Going to run off and tell my mother I’m leaving, I suppose?” He asks, folding his arms across his chest in typical teen style.
“It’s a shame.” She repeats, right hand now stroking her left forearm. Sirius swallows and shakes his head. She’s a lost cause; fucking insane, but too beautiful.
“You’re the shame, Bella.” He hadn’t meant for it to come out, and it’s not until Bellatrix is laughing and stalking towards him that he realises it has.
“How so?” She is too close again, hand on his chest as she stares at him. She makes him feel small, but he’d never admit that. Sirius doesn’t push her away this time, but gives her a dark look that she inadvertently returns. “I’m making the family proud, Sirius.”
He shakes his head, “That’s not what I mean.” He breaks her gaze for a second, sheepish and annoyed with himself. When she quirks a brow, he finds himself replying detachedly; “You’re clever. You’re a manipulative little bitch, but subtle… you know, when you’re not stamping someone’s head into a pavement,” Bellatrix smirks, proud and appreciative. “And you’re…” But he stops himself, making to move away from her.
But she stops him.
Her hand closes around his dark travelling cloak and she has strength enough to hold him in his place. “Go on,” she whispers darkly, “you can say it.” She stares at him for a moment longer, then grins, “But you won’t. No matter, Sirius, I know.”
“We could have done with you.” He finishes, though they both know that isn’t what he wished to say.
“We?” She cackles once more, though her grip is unyielding, “So that’s it, then? You’re not an us anymore, you’re a them.” Statement. Accurate statement. He nods his confirmation all the same. He thinks she is going to spit at him; she breaks his gaze, and when her eyes are returned to his, they almost burn him, almost hurt him.
Almost.
Still, the silence smarts. He tells himself it is not her touch, not her eyes, that’s causing the fiery eruption at his navel - it is simply the silence. He wants to say something to break it, but no words can be summoned. The witch is clearly thinking about something; her eyes stare at him, yet they are elsewhere.
Sirius laughs, just to stir her back to reality; he knows she won’t ask. Bellatrix stares at her cousin as if this was the first time she had truly seen him. Her jaw slackened a little, she sighed out her breath, quiet and accepting, then broke the stare. “I can only presume that your delight is because this is likely to be the last time you see me, dear cousin.”
Yet they both knew that was not true. They would see each other again, through flashes of violent light, blurs of robes, lowered hoods and hollow, icy masks. They both knew Sirius would join the Order of the Phoenix, and that by doing this, he and Bellatrix would have to fight. Gone were the times of cruel but harmless hexes, hair-pulling, slaps across the face in the corridors… No. Soon, Sirius would join the battle. It would not be a game.
But Bellatrix was determined to win this last one.
She watches for a moment as his eyes travel around the room, before walking her fingers up his chest, sliding them past his neck and using them to turn his face towards her. “You will miss me, Siri’,” she grins, “You’ll never admit it, not to anyone. Not even to yourself.” She pauses, nails grazing his strong jaw as she stares at him, “The same can be said for a lot of things. You need to grow up, ickle cousin. You need to start… admitting things to yourself.”
“You are bonkers, Bellatrix. Absolutely fucking insane.” Her laugh only serves to prove his point. It is high and cold, piercing… She shrugs whilst reminding him that she is right, saying that he’s avoiding the truth. “Yeah, you keep thinking that, Trix’.”
“And you keep thinking that you’re not, Siri. The truth is, no-one’s fooled by it.” She lowers her eyes and smiles, dropping her fingers to his chest. “I bet your mummy and daddy are downstairs as we speak, discussing how your vehement refusal to marry me really means that there’s some,” the harridan’s eyes meet her cousin’s again as she drags her fingertips down his torso, “passion, for me, somewhere around here.” She laughs as she presses down on his abdomen, aware that a horrible writhing would be occurring below the skin that was beneath her artful touch.
Sirius kisses her just to shut her up. He knows she would’ve been expecting him to deny it furiously, as he had been everything this evening. This way, he would shock her, and though her lips burn against his own, he crushes them down harder. Hopefully, her lips would bruise and her darling mother would knock her about a bit for behaving in such a promiscuous, unladylike manner.
“No, I did not just prove your point, you little bitch,” Sirius snaps before Bellatrix can even catch her breath. “It appears that the only way to shut you the fucking hell up is to make you. Now excuse me, I must go and wash my mouth out with soap, and then, I’ll be off. I really hope you have a repulsive life. God knows you deserve it.”
As Sirius’s knocks his cousin on his way past, she jolts back to earth, furious and confused. When did he gain control of the situation?! She whips around, ample chest heaving in the strange fusion of the kiss’s aftermath and her fury. Bellatrix, acting - as always - on impulse, pursues her younger cousin with animalistic speed, pulls him around and presses her wand to his throat. He laughs, laughs in the face of an insulted, confused Death Eater. Sirius Black never did know when to stop.
“Come on then, Trixie. Let’s see what clever little jinxes old Vold’ has taught you.” In life, each person eventually reaches the point where they are so tired that they stop caring about what happens to them. Sirius has reached this point; his recklessness in the face of death himself emerged from his hopelessness. Of course, he wants to get a rise out of cousin Bellatrix for the last time, leave her life on a high. If she kills him now, he would die knowing that he’d had the upper hand over Bellatrix Black. And oh, that was worth dying for.
For a moment, Bellatrix stares at her cousin, the light in her eyes burning intensely, as if she wants to rip out her cousin’s tongue and pray to her Lord for peace on her abused and loyal ears. No servant should have to hear his name uttered by someone so unworthy, so filthy. Only for a moment did Bellatrix stare at her cousin. “Crucio!”
Amidst the agony, Sirius feels a strange sense of satisfied curiosity. This was what it felt like. He is aware that Bellatrix is clinging to his hair, holding him up, aware that her face bore a look of pure malignance, aware that his lips were whimpering.
“You, dear cousin, amuse nobody but yourself. Your stupidity will only take you to similar places,” she mutters something under her breath, a rapid, chanting tirade that Sirius’s ringing ears could not understand. “I see you’re happiness to disrespect my lord has worn, somewhat. Good.” She lets go of his hair and his legs gave up the fight. His body is helpless as he stares up at Bellatrix, but his mind will never give up the fight.
Her eyes scan him once more, taking in his odd angle, his messy hair, his deep, beautiful anger-filled eyes, and she hates him. “It really is a shame, Sirius.”