Chapter One.
Things that are mine: The smut
Things that are not mine: The Harry Potter franchise
And of course, a thank you to my darling beta, The-Missing-Paige :3
Its midnight. Or close to.
The moon illuminates the infinite darkness that is night.
"Bella."
She says my name when she sleeps. Her voice, always strained. Is it pain or pleasure?
"Bella."
Maybe both.
In the Black House there was often no difference between the two. Or maybe the two just coexist. Pain and pleasure. Light and dark. She and I. Two out of the three infamous Black sisters.
Only, not for long. Rodolphus has asked for my hand. He disgusts me, but I must carry on the charade. The illusion of perfection, or purity, or whatever it is that's supposed to matter but really doesn't. She is the one thing I love. The only thing in this world that can smother this fire that was ignited in me the day I was born. The day I became Black.
"Bella."
She and I cannot coexist forever.
I'm becoming a Lestrange soon. A Lestrange. It makes me sick. But it's better than being a Malfoy. A bunch of bleeding cowards, the whole lot of them. And Narcissa has chosen to be one. She and him will move into Malfoy Manor, and make lovely little dewy-eyed brats. The thought of it makes me sick. Although he's probably already been inside her. She is just like her older sisters; insatiable. We took the meaning out of sex a long time ago. We stripped it bare, left nothing but the action. The physical never met the mental or emotional. Sex and love do not exist on the same planes.
The love I have for her is negated only by the hate I feel for myself every time I wrap her hair around my hand and pull her into my darkness. She is my moon. And my stars, but she's burning out. She's becoming more Black than I would've ever thought possible. The fragile blonde-haired girl with no opinion is merely a memory now. She is now a woman of 19 years, outspoken, with the body of a damned harlot, as mother would say. Even as she gets closer to Malfoy. The Black is catching; contagious. And she's infected. We both are.
And then there is Andromeda, the most unusual of us all.
She is pregnant with a Mudblood's child. The abomination inside of her won't be Black. It is a burden that only the purest endure. Or at least the seemingly pure...
No one knows she's pregnant but Narcissa and I. Narcissa feigned indifference, while I sincerely told her to get rid of it. But she made her choice. She's running away with the Mudblood soon...planning to elope, and raise the little freak. I envy her, really. She's braver than Narcissa, and saner than I. We are both weak in our own respects, slaves to our upbringing. But not Andromeda. We were all raised the same way. In the same detached, apathetic home. There is no feeling. Except for what we feel about ourselves and for each other. The Black sisters. Synonymous with self-loathing, furious lust, and the sickest type of love. A love we so willingly give, but hesitate to receive. Andromeda is leaving. And I do not hate her for the bastard child she carries, or the disgrace to wizarding kind that has fathered the thing. I hate her because she isn't really Black. She is only Black in name, and even then not for much longer. She was raised in the same conditions as we were but Andromeda is immune. She will never be Black. Because she never was Black.
"Bella."
Narcissa always falls asleep after we fuck. Like a man, really. The way we fight for dominance exhausts her. Plus, I didn't let her win tonight. There was no real fight in her anyway. Eventually she just lied back, and let me devour her. She was much better at losing control than Andromeda. Andromeda tried to fight it at first, before she gave into the want that later became a need. And even after. When she'd come to my room willingly in the dead of the night, well after Narcissa had fallen asleep against my headboard, she was aggressive. Fighting me into submission all while making sure not to wake the youngest Black. She was skilled, too. Narcissa took some teaching but Andromeda knew how to read my body and respond appropriately.
She was always a better fuck than Cissy. But Cissy is my everything. And she's Andromeda's too. All Narcissa has to do is tell her to stay and she will. But Cissy won't do that. Because Andromeda doesn't belong here, and we all know it. Cissy isn't as indifferent as she seems. She cares about Andromeda, but that's how we were raised. In unfeeling. Not as much Black as it was gray. Any display of affection will keep her here, half-blood disgrace and all. But she won't give her a reason to stay. We won't really be here for long either way. I'll become a Lestrange, and Cissy, a Malfoy. Different shades, that when put together still become Black.
"Bella."
I look at her resting form, she's beginning to bruise around the collar and along her jaw line. I mustn't be so rough, she's so pale.
"Bella, are you just going to stare at me?"
My moon, my light.
"Go back to sleep Cissy, you need your rest."
She's smiling up at me. Profoundly beautiful...almost pristine.
Almost.
"Lay with me, I'm cold."
No she's not, but I lay there anyway. She rests her head on my chest and I ration my breath so that I am only inhaling and exhaling just barely, and she, my flame, dances in the wind that is me.
"Bella."
"Goodnight, Cissy."