Title: Ever Be Yours
Author:
iulia_linnea
Pairing: Bellatrix/Narcissa
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1476
Summary: Bellatrix pricks herself out for her sister's pleasure.
Disclaimer: This piece is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers, including, but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
When they were children, Andromeda would help them dress up
before they performed one of their
"little shows," as their mother always called them.
Of course, their eldest sister never acted with them.
She was too busy directing other things.
At night, it was never their mother's voice in the
hall outside of their bedroom wishing their father a
sweet "goodnight" with an edge of acidic promise
cutting across the drafty air of the corridor. Her voice
always stopped his, but Bellatrix knew her father's
steps-and for as long as she could remember, they
had receded as her big sister's had approached.
Andromeda was their protector-until the Muggle took
her away-until she let him touch her.
After the little show their mother insisted they give at the
first formal affair that the Black family held in
the wake of its disinherited daughter's marriage, Bellatrix
and Narcissa knew that they would need to
protect themselves. Their father had been so attentive in helping them
change.
They took to sharing a bed.
They were young, but together made an intimidating pair.
Narcissa was fourteen and colt-like, but far
more graceful and languid than any common mare. Bellatrix, sixteen and
supple, worried about what
matter of "whip" her father might employ to turn
them into members of his stable-she knew what he did
to the younger maids.
The Blacks kept more creatures than house elves.
Not long after Andromeda left, their father arrived to
"tuck them in." Narcissa was so frightened that
her skin tightened almost to translucency, and Bellatrix thought the
girl might glow as the light of the
room passed through her sister's voluminous nightgown of
delicate muslin.
Captivated by this angelic sight, Bellatrix fell in love.
She allowed their father to enter the room. She allowed him to
pet her head and smooth her hair. She
allowed him to take one step too close to her. She allowed him to raise
her chin after asking, "May I
give you a kiss goodnight?"
Her response surprised the wizard and herself.
Narcissa cried while her father writhed on the floor under
Cruciatus and her older sister's bitter
promises of with what next she would curse him should he ever again
darken their door, but she cast
the silencing spell over the room, first. Bellatrix admired her for her
pragmatism.
They took to sharing their bodies.
Bellatrix was tentative in her attentions because she had no
wish to use Narcissa to ease the burning
slide of the desire that had been plaguing her for weeks, ever since
Andromeda . . . . She was the
protector, now, and she could not allow herself the luxury of filling
her sister's sex with her greedy
fingers-or something more substantial. Narcissa turned
fifteen and rather more dominant, and showed
Bellatrix how she desired to be taken.
As her orgasm approached, she crooned her older
sister's name as though it were the holiest of
incantations through the swollen lips of her whore's mouth.
It was almost enough to convince Bellatrix that the gods were
real. Sucking the cries from Narcissa's
mouth-her communion with the divine-she knew it was
better than anything Rodolphus could provide
her in the way of mind-altering potions.
The insistent, unwelcome wizard had promised her that he knew
of someone who could make her
touch the sky-not to see the gods, but to be as one of them.
This was a lie told by a man looking for a
wife, Bellatrix knew that, but what his parvenu of a friend wanted in
her family's home she did not want
to understand.
"Only meet another . . . friend of mine, and I shall
rid you of Lucius' presence," Rodolphus promised.
Narcissa overheard. She managed somehow, always, to hide her
loveliness in the darkest of corners
and hear everything. "It's dangerous,
Bella-don't go," she pleaded in a voice
almost too-cultured for a
seventeen-year-old. Bellatrix felt, for the first time, as if
Narcissa's smoothness only emphasized her own rough edges.
Rodolphus had bulges that made her feel feminine and safe.
Bellatrix decided to trust him. Father hated the man, which
was reason enough, but her beau's family
was beyond reproach-his genealogical chart was deeper than
his Gringott's vault, just. Her mother
approved of Rodolphus, as well. Perhaps it was prudent to think of her
future, she decided-for to
secure it meant to secure Narcissa.
Rodolphus understood that. He'd said as
much-and he had been able to dodge Bellatrix's
attempt to
rend his eyes out for his temerity when he did so.
The wizard had earned her respect. She would give him her
trust. In exchange for her sister, this
seemed only fair-but when she met Lord Voldemort, she
realized that she never needed to concern
herself with something as trifling as fairness again. She expressed her
gratitude toward the man she had
consented to marry adequately and frequently-but never in
front of her baby sister.
"I am not a baby!" Narcissa shrieked on
the day of her wedding as Bellatrix attempted to brush out her
hair before dressing it with the veil.
Their mother was convinced that her youngest
daughter's "bridal nerves" were the cause
of the
uncharacteristic outburst, and told the bride-to-be how very proud she
was that "one of you will reach
the alter a virgin."
"As all proper sacrifices must," Narcissa
replied, before bursting into a shrieking fit of laughter.
"Don't take on so, dearest," her
lover told her after their mother had fled. "People will
think that you're
mad."
The silencing charm was forgotten as Narcissa reached smartly
for the upper hem of her sister's bustier
and wrenched it none-too-gently from her body.
"That hurt," Bella said, smiling slowly
and dangerously.
She loved it so when the baby threw a tantrum.
Rodolphus had taught her something that she needed to share
with Narcissa, and quickly, while the
guests were mingling in unconcerned and disinterested groups in the
perfumed lower rooms of the
Malfoy estate.
"I don't want him to touch me,"
Narcissa wailed, suddenly quiescent under the caress of sharp nails
trailing almost too lightly across her face to be felt.
"He will touch you, my love, but not before I have
taught you how to enjoy him."
With that, Bellatrix led her baby sister through the hallway
hidden in the wall that led to her bedroom,
and dressed her in the show-clothes that so suited the girl when she
was pouting-a striped, green and
silver bustier over green knickers, sheer hose, shag-me heels, and a
black ribbon for her slender, swan-like neck.
They were to be each other's audience.
Bellatrix didn't waste time with dressing. She
didn't want to feel her own skin unless it was pressed
against her sister's. The spell was simpler, and, instantly,
she was wearing a man's ensemble, more
stripes, less exposed flesh. But there was a reason for that.
Narcissa should never be frightened in
bed-not without her consent. "Touch my
right leg. Draw
your hand up it from my knee to . . . oh!" Bellatrix gasped.
Her baby sister purred a soft laugh. "What kind of
show is this to be?" she asked before exclaiming and
jumping back in . . . alarm.
Finding a cock where a pussy should be, well, that was enough
to surprise anyone, even the placid
Narcissa Black. While her sister still was Narcissa Black, Bellatrix
moved over her sister's body with
her own, licking from the dip of the younger witch's navel to
the hollow of her throat before thrusting
her conjured erection against the dampening satin of her
sister's knickers.
"No arrogant coxcomb is going to thrust his prick
inside of you before I've been there! Tell me you
want me to fuck you, Cissa. Tell me you want me. Tell me,
now!"
Narcissa's response surprised her sister and herself.
Bellatrix knew that the blood of the Black Family would never
flow from her loins as she walked down
the aisle behind her sister toward the circle in which stood the
wedding party. She would never be able
to give Rodolphus an heir. She rather suspected that her husband had
known this when he taught her
the spell that had so enthralled her sister.
"Only if you keep it!" Narcissa had
hissed.
Of course, Bellatrix had kept it, the cock she could command
most easily, the prick with which she had
bled her baby sister. It had been a simple decision to make; for when
she had eaten her death, she
would have no need of children.
Rodolphus had given Bellatrix more than his name.
As she watched her sister bound to another, however, her need
for Narcissa burned as a deeper mark
upon her soul than the Dark one she carried, and she could not repress
a shudder when Lucius touched
her lover for the first time. She inhaled a sharp breath, and felt her
husband's light hand on her rigid
arm.
"Patience, beloved. She will ever be
yours."