Low Red Moon
So what, you think this is usual
Strange moon, strange land Strange man
Her wand was humming. In a quiet mansion, a humming wand. Clattered on a marble table beside a bed bathed in moonlight. The witch sprung from it like an eager child, silencing the instrument of magic. Her bare feet padded on Persian rug, pattered on cold stone. Down steps a stone spiral. She skittered through high open doors. Halted in a courtyard ivy-hidden and looked up. It had begun. A deep pink cusp waxing across the full white face. "Beautiful," she whispered.
A cough, and she whirled. Linen caressed ankle. "Bella," she breathed.
The darker witch still dinner dressed swayed. "Always were a slut for the Moon, sister." Smirk a knife.
And Narcissa cut eyes shyly. "I love it."
"I know." Sauntered to the stone table past the dragon fountain. "I see you are prepared." She stretched a claw hand to her sibling. "May I join you?" The hands were cold clenched.
"Of course."
Hold your hands with tiny horses
Hold'em, hold'em kindly
Witchy work awaited. A dark mirror reflected naught, but the silver athame caught two pairs of bright and eager eyes. Little brass bowls sang salt, rose water and sage. Black candles flickered to life at wand touches. They snickered, giggled and snorted through ceremony, each time glancing up at the progress of the lunar eclipse.
Low red moon
How can you
Sleep like a baby
Sleep like a baby
"What do you work for tonight, sister?" Bella asked, dabbing her frail neck with fragrant rose water.
"To protect Draco in the weeks to come," Narcissa answered quickly. She was securing her loose locks with a bone clasp.
"Shedding blood for the boy's well being." Bella began lazily unlacing her corset. "How noble."
"Save your wit, wombless wretch," Cissa groused. Gradually, the courtyard grew orange. "It's nearly time." Practical, efficient, the Malfoy woman wrestled her gown over her head, bared sacred skin to the Blood Moon as Bellatrix stepped from her own tattered skirt. They glowed like goddesses violent.
And you shine so different on another
You shine different on another
I look up and I see the raising of an old hope
Brave and tattered
A shining night with shining eyes
That shines around me brightly
So now I say "This is beautiful"
Finally, suddenly, the moon was red. Narcissa took up her athame, round belly brushing stone altar edge. She held her hand aloft over scrying mirror and spoke soft so the Goddess would strain to listen: "Protect him. Please. Help me to protect him. Watch over us in this darkness descending. Give me your moonglow. Your patience and your wisdom. Your peace. Goddess, please…" Her eyes closed. Her prayer was a solemn one despite its informality. It was how she spoke to the deities - as if they were her equals. (Her Narcissism knew no bounds.) The blade pierced so sweet a tender palm and soon there was a delicate patter of blood on glass and a delicate almost orgasmic gasp. As if eagerness would kill her, she bent her head to look into the mirror.
A dark chuckle bubbled close behind her. "Blood brings out the Black in you, Cissy." Hisses in the ear. Gooseflesh. Then ten thin fingers furling in loosely tamed locks. "But don't look. You may not like what you see." The hands tilted Narcissa's head up, to the side. "Gods, you're gorgeous in red."
"Oh, Bella…" The moon's drink was drunkening. Her senses reeled. Bella's sharp tongue settled on fluttering pulse. "I have to know…"
"Then we shall know together." The roundness of Bella's breasts pressed beneath her shoulders - the only soft part of her warrior sister. For a second their fingers danced clumsily until the athame sliced Lestrange and then more blood poured. Hand still on head turned face for a biting kiss. The sisters shared spit and sanguine. Moaned. Athame clattered to table. Shattered spell and they broke apart hot and panting like harpies.
"Look then, mother," Bella growled.
I think you are
Strange
The scrying mirror showed truth past, present and to come. Narcissa tried to concentrate past evil fingers teasing her tits, past the tightening horror between her legs, the invitation she didn't want to offer. "Bella," she sobbed. "Stop."
The mirror was dim. Bella's breath was fire down her spine. Cissa's arms trembled where she braced herself over the scry and saw… "No!" She smashed a hand onto her mouth, nearly fell across the damning image. Pale bodies shimmering. Two twined together. No easy image, but obvious. A man and a woman too familiar. Loving hands in cornsilk worshiped and his back - sinewy as a snake - worshiping between thighs also too familiar. "No…" She whispered again. "Draco."
And herself.
"Hate to say I told you so," Bella murmured. Her sinful fingers slid betwixt her sister's arse cheeks to sample her more secret offering. Cissa whimpered weakly. "And you love it." A nip at earlobe. "In fact...I have a feeling…"
Suddenly, she stepped away. Without the support of too close sister, Narcissa crumpled over the altar. Sat weak and boneless on the freezing flagstone, holding table edge as if it connected her to reality. Her naked sister swept determinedly around fountain. Still reeling, Narcissa leaned to see. The courtyard's French doors were flung wide. Sheer tulle curtains fluttered in end of summer breeze, cast orange by rare moon. Bellatrix - cackling her cackle - tore one drapery aside. "I knew it!" She squealed.
"Gerroff me, you batty bint! Ow!"
"Draco!" Narcissa suddenly scrambled, knees scraping stone as she sought her gown.
"Curious little wizard." Bella hauled Draco before his mother by his ear. "I always know when I'm being watched, you silly boy."
"Draco." Narcissa hooked a finger in an edge of linen, pulled her gown toward her. But Bella's foot stopped it short. "Bella!"
"Cissy!"
"Mum!"
"A little spy," Bella hissed in Draco's abused ear. He struggled against her, but her other arm held him fast about the waist, and Narcissa knew Bella's deceptive strength. Bella chuckled as the hand on his hip explored. "And he's hard as the Sorceror's Stone, Cissy!" More manic cackle.
"Gah!" Draco, molested, elbowed his mad aunt and whirled away, but stumbled over his shock-frozen mother. "Woah!"
"Ah!" His legs danced over her bent form, but he couldn't right himself and smacked loudly to the courtyard's unforgiving surface. "Darling!" Narcissa crawled to him, ignoring her obnoxious sister who now sat on the fountain's edge to support her heaving laughter. "Are you alright?" She forgot for the moment she was naked. Forgot she was streaked with two bloods. She touched his red ear worriedly and checked him for scrapes or bruises. The moon made him bright red, but she suspected there was flush involved as well.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
She finally checked his face. He was looking at her breasts. She swallowed. "It's alright, son." A sort of reminder. Because yes, he was hard against her thigh. A promise and a curse. "Here," she stood, offering her arms and he took them. She was light headed with want, the scry's prediction still fresh in her mind's eye. She leaned against the altar and he stayed close. Too close. Hands touching. In fact, their hands danced for a moment - from reluctance to encouragement.
He was tracing lines of dried blood on her torso. "Yours?"
"Some," she murmured. He cupped a breast boldly, chased her fleeing lips. "Draco…" Her hips swiveled (the damned things) seeking to connect with his. Silence had descended, nearly tricking them into believing they were alone. But a low sigh reminded them soon enough.
Bella approached casually. "Like what you saw earlier, little dragon?" She cooed. "Mummy liked what she saw. In the scrying mirror. Didn't you, Cissy?"
"Bella." A warning.
"What did you see, mother?" So earnest.
Narcissa took hold of his jaw. "Nothing, darling."
"Everything, darling." Bella leaned into their space. Took in their red lit forms. "This will never do." She tugged at Draco's sleep pants, swatted at his defensive fingers. "Show the goddess what you have to offer her, Draco!" She chuckled. "I bet she'll be impressed."
He gave up fighting her, lax with lust and wonder. The pants pooled at his ankles and he stepped over them, even closer to his mother. Pressed against her. Pressed his offering to her stomach. "Narcissa," he whispered. Hands over her hips. Up her back and she was falling backward onto stone.
"Very good." Bella chuckled again, turning away from the couple climbing clumsy onto altar. "Fuck her, Draco. The goddess and I...want to watch." She sat on the fountain again, lounged there. Tips of errant curls dipping into drink. "And do it properly."
Moon you made me cry when I was young
And I was young
"Oh good goddess, Draco…" Watched or not, she couldn't have resisted. His arms were strong and hot clutching her close and she was lost. Her head fell near the scrying mirror and she saw reflected in its depths her present. She enfolded her precious son in her own tender embrace. Arms and legs. Thighs tensing when he pressed for entry. She used them to control his pace. "Slow, baby," she whispered.
"Fuck, mother." And with sudden dragon-ness he lunged. Took her. She cried out for the goddess to hear and he roared like a god.
Now I've got strong arms
Strong arms from the Spinning God
And I say "He belongs to me, he belongs to me"
Bellatrix lay back on the fountain's stone, more than content to watch her secretly wicked little sister's display. She knew the witch couldn't protect her boy forever. No amount of blood and prayer could do that. But perhaps… Bella's fingers slipped over her abdomen into her own wet and aching cleft… She moaned in tandem with her hotly pleasured sister. Perhaps they'd found a way to put the boy back for a time. Back in the womb. Back in the folds of the low red moon.
AN: Just a baby ficlet in honour of the lunar eclipse. The song quoted herein is Low Red Moon from Belly - a song from my doomed youth. But beautiful. If you're on the east coast, catch the blood moon tonight starting around 2 am. All other areas, check for approximate times. It's a beautiful thing that occurs too rarely. And if you're witchy, break out your scrying mirror and get nuts.