Harry Potter - Narcissa/Bellatrix - All they shared
Title: All they shared
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Narcissa/Bellatrix
Words: 673
Rating: PG-13
Warning: hint of incest
Challenge: 100_women - sister
It was a hard time for Narcissa when she heard of Bellatrix’ imprisonment to Azkaban. She had thought that her sister - as well as herself and Lucius - would be able to sneak out of a sentence by using her name and the insistence on the Imperius curse, but it seemed she was wrong.
She cursed Bellatrix’ stubborness, thinking of how fanatic she was with her pureblood-attitude. If she had only been more contained, humbler, she may have gotten away just like Narcissa had. But that went against her sister’s nature, the blonde knew.
That evening the blonde had withdrawn from her family and seated herself in a rocking chair, sipping tea, giving in to her thoughts and memories, coming to terms with the results of her sister’s confinement. She knew exactly that Bellatrix wouldn’t ever be the same. Azkaban changed people, and not for the better.
Narcissa’s older sister had always been crazier than everyone else. She didn’t care about other people and their opinion, she didn’t care about any rules their mother tried so hard to enforce on her daughters. And that was something Narcissa had always adored. Bellatrix was strong, independent, fearless and brave. She did what she wanted to do, had her own mind and wasn’t afraid to show it.
Narcissa was quite the opposite. She had always been the “good girl”, the poster child of the Black family: well-educated, obedient, proper.
She remembered liking the attention as a child, being extra good when Bellatrix troubled their parents. “Why can’t you be more like your sister?” was music to her ears. It wasn’t until later when they grew older she began to think differently of their behaviour. It was too late for Narcissa to revolt openly, for she craved the praise and the approval of her parents more than anything else.
But they could not deny her the admiration of her older sister, her daring appearance and snobbish attitude. Oh, nobody else could look as arrogant as Bellatrix.
And with the memory of her conceited glare, the dangerous smile on her lips came also the remembrance of the nights when Narcissa tried to take a little of her sister in, act like her, be like her, and if not succeeding in doing so, being in the least approved and loved by her.
The blonde witch had to swallow hard, sipping the soothing tea to fight down the excitement she felt because of the pictures that flooded her head. Pictures so forbidden she hadn’t thought of them for years, so wrong she wanted to die from shame and guilt. It was sick, twisted, tainted, yet Narcissa had kept coming back for more. More of the pleasant touches, of the irresistable taste, of simply Bellatrix.
She knew exactly her sister had taken advantage of her, that the dark witch never had feelings as strong as Narcissa did. But it had come to her like a drug, and she was addicted to breaking the habit of being the good girl, just letting go and silencing the thoughts in her head.
For as long as she had lived with Bellatrix in one house, Narcissa was never able to quit sleeping in her sister’s bed from time to time. She wasn’t sure if their mother had known about the sinful actions going on under her roof; if she did she never mentioned it. Maybe it was easier to lie and pretend than confronting her daughters (especially Bellatrix) with it.
When Bellatrix moved out the end to their … whatever it was, came automatically. She was married to Rodolphus Lestrange, Narcissa betrothed to Lucius Malfoy. Their paths went separate ways, and it hurt Narcissa that they never again were as close as they had been in these few months.
Narcissa sighed and put her empty teacup down, freed herself from the warm blanket she had wrapped around her legs. “All we shared was a mattress … and a lie and an address,” she whispered into the darkness before turning around and going back to her family.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Narcissa/Bellatrix
Words: 673
Rating: PG-13
Warning: hint of incest
Challenge: 100_women - sister
It was a hard time for Narcissa when she heard of Bellatrix’ imprisonment to Azkaban. She had thought that her sister - as well as herself and Lucius - would be able to sneak out of a sentence by using her name and the insistence on the Imperius curse, but it seemed she was wrong.
She cursed Bellatrix’ stubborness, thinking of how fanatic she was with her pureblood-attitude. If she had only been more contained, humbler, she may have gotten away just like Narcissa had. But that went against her sister’s nature, the blonde knew.
That evening the blonde had withdrawn from her family and seated herself in a rocking chair, sipping tea, giving in to her thoughts and memories, coming to terms with the results of her sister’s confinement. She knew exactly that Bellatrix wouldn’t ever be the same. Azkaban changed people, and not for the better.
Narcissa’s older sister had always been crazier than everyone else. She didn’t care about other people and their opinion, she didn’t care about any rules their mother tried so hard to enforce on her daughters. And that was something Narcissa had always adored. Bellatrix was strong, independent, fearless and brave. She did what she wanted to do, had her own mind and wasn’t afraid to show it.
Narcissa was quite the opposite. She had always been the “good girl”, the poster child of the Black family: well-educated, obedient, proper.
She remembered liking the attention as a child, being extra good when Bellatrix troubled their parents. “Why can’t you be more like your sister?” was music to her ears. It wasn’t until later when they grew older she began to think differently of their behaviour. It was too late for Narcissa to revolt openly, for she craved the praise and the approval of her parents more than anything else.
But they could not deny her the admiration of her older sister, her daring appearance and snobbish attitude. Oh, nobody else could look as arrogant as Bellatrix.
And with the memory of her conceited glare, the dangerous smile on her lips came also the remembrance of the nights when Narcissa tried to take a little of her sister in, act like her, be like her, and if not succeeding in doing so, being in the least approved and loved by her.
The blonde witch had to swallow hard, sipping the soothing tea to fight down the excitement she felt because of the pictures that flooded her head. Pictures so forbidden she hadn’t thought of them for years, so wrong she wanted to die from shame and guilt. It was sick, twisted, tainted, yet Narcissa had kept coming back for more. More of the pleasant touches, of the irresistable taste, of simply Bellatrix.
She knew exactly her sister had taken advantage of her, that the dark witch never had feelings as strong as Narcissa did. But it had come to her like a drug, and she was addicted to breaking the habit of being the good girl, just letting go and silencing the thoughts in her head.
For as long as she had lived with Bellatrix in one house, Narcissa was never able to quit sleeping in her sister’s bed from time to time. She wasn’t sure if their mother had known about the sinful actions going on under her roof; if she did she never mentioned it. Maybe it was easier to lie and pretend than confronting her daughters (especially Bellatrix) with it.
When Bellatrix moved out the end to their … whatever it was, came automatically. She was married to Rodolphus Lestrange, Narcissa betrothed to Lucius Malfoy. Their paths went separate ways, and it hurt Narcissa that they never again were as close as they had been in these few months.
Narcissa sighed and put her empty teacup down, freed herself from the warm blanket she had wrapped around her legs. “All we shared was a mattress … and a lie and an address,” she whispered into the darkness before turning around and going back to her family.