Disclaimer: I own nothing! These women belong to the awesome J.K Rowling and I giver her full credit for their creation.
Contains; Blackcest, lesbian content, swear words, incest. please dont read if under age or if this kind of stuff offends you. please read and review!
Toujours Pur
She thought she was safe here. She thought Bellatrix couldn't touch her here. She thought that casting protective charms on her door would keep her elder sister out of her room. Out of her domain, where she was safe from the world.
But Bellatrix was smarter than that. She knew how to break through Andromeda's skillfully placed charms; breaking into her domain, breaking into everything, her body, her soul, her mind.
Bellatrix, who's skilled hands broke her and fixed her. Bellatrix, who's dark eyes bore into hers in the height of passion and pain. Bellatrix, who's sadistic and malicious way of showing affection and emotion made her shudder with pleasure. Bellatrix, the woman she loved and hated most in this world.
Bellatrix, her sister.
Her best friend.
Her enemy.
Her lover.
Slowly tying her down in chains of torment.
Of pleasure.
Of pain.
Andromeda Black did not beg. She did not plead. She was not weak. Bellatrix knew this and knew it well. Andromeda was a worthy adversary, a gentle lover, an enigmatic challenge.
Bellatrix Black loved challenges.
Andromeda was her escape.
Her safe place.
Her sanctuary.
Andromeda couldn't take it anymore. Her family, her parents, her sisters. The social dogma that so many Pureblood women hold them selves to.
Toujours Pur.
Always pure.
The Black family motto.
Bellatrix's whisper in her ear, thick and husky.
The timbre, the low rasping sound of her voice drove Andromeda crazy.
The whisper, the voice was undoubtedly rooted in a sensual, erotic way. She offered all sorts of desires in it.
Desires that Andromeda was very good at giving her sister.
She was simply good at fulfilling unspoken demands, the ones that pooled in her sister's obsidian eyes.
Toujours Pur.
The blood streamed in long, crimson ribbons down her arm.
Pur Sang.
Pure Blood.
"N'oubliez pas que vous etes un pur sang." Bellatrix would whisper.
"Don't forget that you are a PureBlood."
Toujours Pur.
Each letter elegantly carved into her flesh with expert precision.
But everyone knew who Andromeda Cassiopeia Black was on the outside.
But it was Bellatrix who knew her inside and out. Not even their baby sister; Narcissa knew Andromeda.
Bellatrix knew she was far from Toujours Pur. She saw to that every night.
Andromeda beneath her, writhing in pleasure and pain. Gasping and groaning, clawing, biting and moaning. Her body betraying her brain.
Climaxing.
Crying.
Cursing.
She chanted the same mantra in her head every night as Bellatrix wanted her, devoured her, and dominated her.
Toujours Pur.
Toujours Pur.
Toujours Pur.
Toujours Pur.
Bellatrix!
Andromeda Black knew that she never was and never will be Toujours Pur.
She was far from it, because Bellatrix loved her.
Because she loved Bellatrix.
Because they loved each other.
Their love far from being Toujours Pur.
The motto that they lived against, and fought every night; they fought Toujours Pur.