Swim
Title: Swim
Author: l3petitemort
Pairing/Characters: Bellatrix/Regulus
Prompt: the captain goes down with the ship
Rating: R
Word Count: 454
Warnings: Language, infidelity, chan-ish-ness (15), object penetration, canon character death. (Wow, this is actually way tamer than it sounds.)
Notes: My first quick-drabble over at hp_cestfest! Go over there and drabble for Haiti!
There was never anything about her that nurtured; never anything maternal or soft or delicate.
She wasn't Andromeda, destined to birth ten little pureblood babies and cook too-rich foods, and she wasn't Narcissa, elegant and composed, the lovely face of good breeding and virtue.
No.
Her penchant for savagery was evident early, made clear in the handfuls of white-blonde hair in her fists and sharp heel-marks in the walls. She was not a coo-er; she was not a coddler; she was not anybody's Mummy.
This is why the sight of the black-haired, solemn-eyed toddler in twelve year-old Bella's lap caused the longest silence in the Black family history. They watched, cautious and wide-eyed, as he twined his baby fingers through one of her curls and pulled.
He survived.
Bella smiled.
_______________
They barely blinked when Regulus was twelve years old and still in her lap. In fact, they very nearly sighed with relief - quietly, privately - because he was the only one who could speak to her sometimes and return, reliably, whole and intact.
He was all quiet strength and old soul, and she was madness-dripping-sex and the smell of things burning, and they shook their heads and looked away, because he could do what they could not.
_______________
When he was fifteen, she got married. He stood at her husband's side, hands folded, jaw set, still solemn-eyed but smoldering, like she'd stoked a fire in his throat.
While everybody drank and shouted and hexed each other blind, Bella took him into the bathroom and fucked him senseless in her white dress. He bled onto the lace; she stuffed her knickers in his pocket, and she whispered mine mine mine mine into his ears.
She was right.
He never touched another woman.
_______________
Two days before he died, Regulus Apparated straight into her sitting room. He was the only one who could bypass the wards. Rodolphus hated it, and that was part of the reason it was allowed.
She was naked on the sofa drinking something foul out of the bottle with her feet propped up and her hair pulled back. She bit his collarbone and shoved the bottle into his hands, told him fuck me with it.
He did.
She laughed and laughed and laughed, then sucked him off - too much teeth, not enough tongue, just the way he liked it - while he drank what was left.
_______________
Bella got his last owl while he was still just missing, not yet presumed dead.
The captain goes down with the ship, it said. Jump?
She kissed the parchment and tucked it into the holster at her thigh. Every time her blade slipped against it, she heard his voice.
She never jumped. She couldn't swim.
Author: l3petitemort
Pairing/Characters: Bellatrix/Regulus
Prompt: the captain goes down with the ship
Rating: R
Word Count: 454
Warnings: Language, infidelity, chan-ish-ness (15), object penetration, canon character death. (Wow, this is actually way tamer than it sounds.)
Notes: My first quick-drabble over at hp_cestfest! Go over there and drabble for Haiti!
There was never anything about her that nurtured; never anything maternal or soft or delicate.
She wasn't Andromeda, destined to birth ten little pureblood babies and cook too-rich foods, and she wasn't Narcissa, elegant and composed, the lovely face of good breeding and virtue.
No.
Her penchant for savagery was evident early, made clear in the handfuls of white-blonde hair in her fists and sharp heel-marks in the walls. She was not a coo-er; she was not a coddler; she was not anybody's Mummy.
This is why the sight of the black-haired, solemn-eyed toddler in twelve year-old Bella's lap caused the longest silence in the Black family history. They watched, cautious and wide-eyed, as he twined his baby fingers through one of her curls and pulled.
He survived.
Bella smiled.
_______________
They barely blinked when Regulus was twelve years old and still in her lap. In fact, they very nearly sighed with relief - quietly, privately - because he was the only one who could speak to her sometimes and return, reliably, whole and intact.
He was all quiet strength and old soul, and she was madness-dripping-sex and the smell of things burning, and they shook their heads and looked away, because he could do what they could not.
_______________
When he was fifteen, she got married. He stood at her husband's side, hands folded, jaw set, still solemn-eyed but smoldering, like she'd stoked a fire in his throat.
While everybody drank and shouted and hexed each other blind, Bella took him into the bathroom and fucked him senseless in her white dress. He bled onto the lace; she stuffed her knickers in his pocket, and she whispered mine mine mine mine into his ears.
She was right.
He never touched another woman.
_______________
Two days before he died, Regulus Apparated straight into her sitting room. He was the only one who could bypass the wards. Rodolphus hated it, and that was part of the reason it was allowed.
She was naked on the sofa drinking something foul out of the bottle with her feet propped up and her hair pulled back. She bit his collarbone and shoved the bottle into his hands, told him fuck me with it.
He did.
She laughed and laughed and laughed, then sucked him off - too much teeth, not enough tongue, just the way he liked it - while he drank what was left.
_______________
Bella got his last owl while he was still just missing, not yet presumed dead.
The captain goes down with the ship, it said. Jump?
She kissed the parchment and tucked it into the holster at her thigh. Every time her blade slipped against it, she heard his voice.
She never jumped. She couldn't swim.