Disclaimer - Don't own any of the Harry Potter characters you see here, JK Rowling does. I also do not own the poem The Female of the Species. That belongs to Rudyard Kipling.
A/N - I am thoroughly appalled at the amount of time it has taken me to post a new story. Absolutely and completely disgusted and very sorry. I have not been able to sit down at the computer for more than ten minutes lately. Anyway, this story illustrates the reflections and thoughts of the Black sisters, some time right before Harry starts school at Hogwarts. I used the poem Female of the Species, not only because it is awesome, but because I thought it showed the attitudes of the three women. The italics at the beginning of each sister's story and at the end are the stanzas.
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The Female of the Species
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When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can.
But his mate makes no such notion where she camps beside the trail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
It had been years since Bellatrix had glimpsed the rising sun; in Azkaban, all the world was ash and gray. It had been far too long since the last time she had heard the gentle chirping of a bird; a constant soundtrack of long, rattling breaths, half-crazed ramblings and torture-filled screams raged on in her head. Bellatrix could not remember the smell of the earth after a morning rainfall, all she could recall was the scent of rotting flesh.
Her tiny cell in Azkaban, so small it allowed for only five paces from one wall to the opposite, was depressing to be sure. She shared it with her husband, Rodolphus, but he was not much company these days. Presently, he was having a rather heated argument with his pillow; apparently, it had borrowed 300 galleons and never paid him back.
Bellatrix knew she was not entirely sane herself, but at least she did not converse with laundry on a regular basis. Bella was a fighter, she always had been. At Hogwarts, she fought to achieve the best grades, to win the respect of her Slytherin housemates, to triumph over any obstacle that came her way. After graduation, she fought her way through the ranks of the Death Eater hierarchy to take her rightful place at the Dark Lord's side. She strived to put fear in the hearts of all those unworthy mudbloods, and to rid the world of their kind. But most of all, Bellatrix fought to survive.
She would escape this infernal place; there was no doubt in her mind. People were worried about Lucius, Snape, Avery, Nott; the loyal men of Voldemort's Inner Circle. Oh, she would prove them wrong. After all, the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
She is wedded to convictions – in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him who denies!
He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot wild,
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.
Narcissa studied her reflection in the ornate mirror that occupied a large portion of the equally lavish wall that made up one-fourth of her luxurious bedroom. She brushed her flaxen, silky locks one more time, just to ensure that they were perfectly in place. She touched up her blush, dabbed a bit more perfume behind her ears, and made sure her cleavage was sufficiently displayed. The Malfoy matriarch never went anywhere, including downstairs to the breakfast table, looking less than her sensuous best.
She arrived in the dining room, and felt a pang of disappointment to find it empty, save for one member of their legion of house elves. So, Lucius had not come home last night. No doubt he had been out with his new young secretary, the leggy brunette one, "getting to know her better", as he usually put it. Narcissa was not blind, she had long since given up any illusion she had of Lucius actually being in love with her. No, he had loved her body and her looks, and that's what he had married. And although age had certainly been more than kind to Mrs. Malfoy, Lucius had a short attention span. In fact, she figured it was something akin to that of a five year old child's. She also privately thought that their chief house elf, Heta, had a larger mental capacity than her husband. He had a mind for nothing but killing. Still, Narcissa knew appearances were everything, and to all outsiders, she remained the perfect pureblooded housewife.
"Can Heta get Missus anything? Would Missus be wanting some breakfast?"
"Why else would I be in the dining room at nine o'clock in the morning, elf?" Narcissa spat.
The house elf quickly scurried into the kitchen and returned only a moment later with a veritable arsenal of food. If good for nothing else, house elves were excellent cooks.
"Here is Missus' breakfast, Miss." Heta squeaked, as she hurriedly retreated out of fear of punishment.
Narcissa seated herself in the chair directly to the left of the head of the table, the place that Lucius normally occupied. Just then, her young son Draco sauntered in, and seated himself across from her, taking the seat to the right of Lucius' spot. Narcissa laughed to herself. Such were the laws of pureblooded hierarchy that even her son had a higher rank in the family than she did, despite being only ten years old. It seemed that Narcissa was constantly being reminded of her place, even at the breakfast table.
"Good morning Mother" said her son.
"Good morning Draco, darling."
To her eyes, Draco was flawless. Handsome, powerful, a real leader. It was everything Narcissa could have wanted for her precious child. However, Lucius' dream was to someday have Draco take his rightful place in Voldemort's Inner Circle, should the Dark Lord ever return. Narcissa would be damned if she saw her only son, her pride and joy, follow his idiot father down the same path of danger and blind devotion to a merciless tyrant. She knew Draco would turn his back on her should that ever happen, just as Lucius had. He would wind up in prison, or worse, dead. She would not lose the one thing she had left to live for to the service of a Dark Lord.
So, as she sat and ate her meal in silence, like any proper wife should do, Narcissa thought about how exactly she could thwart her husband's plan. She knew she would do anything necessary, Narcissa was not above murder if it came down to it. She had heard enough Death Eater stories to know how to make it look like an accident. Too many men underestimated a mother's love. They did not realize that the female of the species was more deadly than the male.
She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity – must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions – not in these her honour dwells.
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.
"Nymphadora, stop that infernal racket this instant!" Andromeda commanded half-heartedly from her spot at the kitchen stove. She sighed. There was no controlling her teenaged daughter. And to think, she used to dread sending her off the Hogwarts in the fall. Now, she welcomed the quiet.
"You know it's useless, Andy" her husband Ted reminded her.
"Oh, I know." She smiled at him. "Trust me, I know."
Ted was a fantastic husband and father, and Andromeda loved him with all her heart. True, they did not live in the grandeur that the Black's did, in fact, by Black standards they lived in absolute squalor. Andromeda was an outcast, a black sheep of her family, but she would not have it any other way. She hated the pureblood supremacist ideals of her former family, and had never fit in there anyway.
Ted Tonks was a kind, caring, and accepting man. He was mild-mannered and would never unjustly hate someone because their parents were muggles. Years ago, when Andromeda had met Ted at school, he was like a breath of fresh air. And while she would always miss her sisters and the close bond they had once shared, she had married Ted, started a family, and never looked back.
Andromeda was worried, though. Recently, rumors had been spreading through the Auror division where she worked at the Ministry of Magic. Whispers of a nameless fear somewhere in the east, near Albania. She highly suspected that it was Voldemort, who was out there, suspended in some phantasmal state, biding his time.
If that snake ever came back, Andromeda would go to any lengths to protect her husband and daughter from him and her former family. She would show no mercy to anyone that dared threaten her happiness. She had lived too long in shadow.
Suddenly, her daughter bounded in, making far more noise than should be humanly possible and knocking over no less than two kitchen chairs.
"So mom, what's for dinner?"
Andromeda beamed at her daughter, the apple of her eye, and her laughing husband. Nothing would take them away from her. Few people realized that the female of the species was more deadly than the male.
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And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern – shall enthrall but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail,
That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the male.
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Review! If you don't, I will hunt you down and make you, and you should have learned by now how deadly females are.