How Sharper Than a Serpent's Tooth
Author: Bitterfig
Title: How Sharper Than a Serpent’s Tooth
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Walburga Black/Regulus Black
Summary: When she came to his room by night, pressed green cherries to his lips, he pretended they were candy rather than poison aphrodisiacs.
Word Count: 314
Challenge: Green
Beta Reader: Nzomniac
Rating: R
Warnings: Mother/son incest, non-con, Regulus is underage.
Author’s Note: Started out as a drabble for
blackcest100 using the prompt “green”. Ended up about three times too long.
How Sharper Than a Serpent’s Tooth
In the black of night, the Black mother brewed a forbidden potion. She poured it out over a bowl of cherries and left them. By the next evening, the cherries had soaked up the potion, their tender flesh so saturated with sugar and dark magic that they were green as emeralds.
Her once handsome face illuminated by their phosphorescent glow, Walburga Black went to her remaining son.
Her older son, Sirius, was gone. He had always been difficult, uncooperative. Walburga had given birth to her boys late in life, and it had cost her dearly. She was a fragile woman. She needed to be treated delicately, but as soon as Sirius grew strong enough to bodily push her away, he had, night after night. He’d made threats, said he would tell all the special things between them. Finally, he had run away.
Walburga sighed, remembering a line from King Lear.
How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.
Sirius should have been her greatest delight, but he was an ingrate, a cur. Regulus, at least, was a good son. When she came to his room by night, pressed green cherries to his lips, he pretended they were candy rather than poison aphrodisiacs, and though it took some minutes for them to take effect, he did not cry out or struggle as his mother began to fondle him. The next day, it was as though it had never happened. Regulus never said a word.
Regulus was a good son.
When his brother left, he’d stopped hoping that he would be saved. He let the Black mother satisfy herself on his flesh. He made no sound but an occasional mewing gasp from pain or arousal (they felt the same to him). The glistening green cherries dissolved in his mouth, carried his mind elsewhere while his body remained in the witch’s hands.
Title: How Sharper Than a Serpent’s Tooth
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Walburga Black/Regulus Black
Summary: When she came to his room by night, pressed green cherries to his lips, he pretended they were candy rather than poison aphrodisiacs.
Word Count: 314
Challenge: Green
Beta Reader: Nzomniac
Rating: R
Warnings: Mother/son incest, non-con, Regulus is underage.
Author’s Note: Started out as a drabble for
blackcest100 using the prompt “green”. Ended up about three times too long.
How Sharper Than a Serpent’s Tooth
In the black of night, the Black mother brewed a forbidden potion. She poured it out over a bowl of cherries and left them. By the next evening, the cherries had soaked up the potion, their tender flesh so saturated with sugar and dark magic that they were green as emeralds.
Her once handsome face illuminated by their phosphorescent glow, Walburga Black went to her remaining son.
Her older son, Sirius, was gone. He had always been difficult, uncooperative. Walburga had given birth to her boys late in life, and it had cost her dearly. She was a fragile woman. She needed to be treated delicately, but as soon as Sirius grew strong enough to bodily push her away, he had, night after night. He’d made threats, said he would tell all the special things between them. Finally, he had run away.
Walburga sighed, remembering a line from King Lear.
How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.
Sirius should have been her greatest delight, but he was an ingrate, a cur. Regulus, at least, was a good son. When she came to his room by night, pressed green cherries to his lips, he pretended they were candy rather than poison aphrodisiacs, and though it took some minutes for them to take effect, he did not cry out or struggle as his mother began to fondle him. The next day, it was as though it had never happened. Regulus never said a word.
Regulus was a good son.
When his brother left, he’d stopped hoping that he would be saved. He let the Black mother satisfy herself on his flesh. He made no sound but an occasional mewing gasp from pain or arousal (they felt the same to him). The glistening green cherries dissolved in his mouth, carried his mind elsewhere while his body remained in the witch’s hands.