the girls who sang into their firsts - narcissa/bellatrix - r
Lucius doesn't come to their lunches after Hogwarts. He doesn't like her.
'Don't say that,' Narcissa reprimands, shaking her cigarette above the crystal ashtray. A thin glowing column descends. 'He's just preoccupied, you know. With everything that's going on.'
Bellatrix laughs. She likes Lucius; she thought about it for a minute, before Narcissa elected him as her prince, this tall, cold, prematurely white-haired man. 'You know I don't care, Narcissa. Don't waste your lies on me.'
Narcissa gives her a look of gentle reprimand. Her perfect nails tug at Bellatrix's dress. 'Where did you get that? It's foul. Have you really given up wearing anything other than black?'
Bellatrix tugs the fabric out of her sister's grasp, irritated. 'I have things to worry about more important than fashion, Cissa.' She hates the nickname, giving it and hearing it from a mouth other than her own. It burns her mouth like acid
( ... )
They fought a lot, back then: more than ever. When they were children Narcissa was Bellatrix's ally, her translator to the world, the sharp-eyed intelligent child who interpreted Bellatrix's gibberish, her accesses of anger, her day-long disappearances in the labyrinthine gardens; Narcissa who would appear in her hiding places just before sundown, her little white shoes tarred with mud and grass-green, to bring her home. But at Hogwarts they fought. It wasn't enough to find different factions, different friends, different lovers; they would catch each other by the arm, drag each other away in nooks and hiss, 'what are you doing,' 'you know I don't like him,' 'don't say this so loud
( ... )
It would be easy for Narcissa to make an excuse to stay the night, but she never does; never, before today. She lies there beautiful and silent in the dim light, watching Bellatrix trying to shake some obscure unease. She never could stand still; when they were children Narcissa was the one to follow her outside when Bellatrix slipped through the window, taking comfort in the brisk coldness of the night. Maybe
( ... )
Wow, that is so awesome! I love the setting you chose and how you display their relationship. I love the theme of Narcissa 'rescuing' Bellatrix from herself somehow, and how you described their childhood. The fic has a very special atmosphere to me and it's so cool to read about Narcissa smoking ^^ I like that she is the strong one in this, it's been a long time I read her character this way :) So yeah, I'm more than happy with this fill, it's amazing! Thank you so so much! <3
Reply
Lucius doesn't come to their lunches after Hogwarts. He doesn't like her.
'Don't say that,' Narcissa reprimands, shaking her cigarette above the crystal ashtray. A thin glowing column descends. 'He's just preoccupied, you know. With everything that's going on.'
Bellatrix laughs. She likes Lucius; she thought about it for a minute, before Narcissa elected him as her prince, this tall, cold, prematurely white-haired man. 'You know I don't care, Narcissa. Don't waste your lies on me.'
Narcissa gives her a look of gentle reprimand. Her perfect nails tug at Bellatrix's dress. 'Where did you get that? It's foul. Have you really given up wearing anything other than black?'
Bellatrix tugs the fabric out of her sister's grasp, irritated. 'I have things to worry about more important than fashion, Cissa.' She hates the nickname, giving it and hearing it from a mouth other than her own. It burns her mouth like acid ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
(secretly, Days like that make you feel like you've invented fire, that is now my favorite thing)
and also, WOW. this is magnificent.
Reply
The fic has a very special atmosphere to me and it's so cool to read about Narcissa smoking ^^
I like that she is the strong one in this, it's been a long time I read her character this way :)
So yeah, I'm more than happy with this fill, it's amazing!
Thank you so so much! <3
Reply
Leave a comment