Chapter Two. I own nothin' but the smuttin'.
And of course, a thank you to my darling beta, The-Missing-Paige :3
It has been over a year since we've seen our sister. Or, the blood traitor, as she's often called now. Narcissa and I have married our respective suitors and our parents have since died. My father first, and then my mother. Natural causes. Some less familiar individuals have said that she died of a broken heart. But those close enough know the truth. Love was never a part of their union. No, status and purity above all else. She was to birth a son, a male heir to carry on the name of Black. She never fulfilled her duty, and was therefore useless. But the name of Black couldn't be sullied, so they remained together until their dying days with nothing except three unwanted and thus unloved daughters to show for it.
No, our mother did not die of a broken heart, but rather a wasted life plagued with regret. She was not born Black, but rather one of its many shades. Our mother chose the Black but became slave to it. And at the end of it all, she died at the hands of her master. Love had nothing to do with it.
Narcissa and I are spending some time here at our parent's estate. Cissy told Lucius that she needed time to grieve on the night of our mother's funeral. He nodded, thinking he understood. But he doesn't, the idiot. One grieves after a loss. We did not lose our mother because she was never here. She was never our mother. She was the lady who bore us to try to appease a man whom she did not love. She was also the lady who could not stand the sight of that man, and every time they lied together, it made her skin crawl. She was the lady who at least once a week made her way to my room to rid herself of the disgust she felt. She left traces of it all over my skin. Invisible bruises.
She was the woman who taught Narcissa, Andromeda and I this lust that travels between us in an indefinite cycle. We did not lose our mother because she will forever live on as a plague that we will be riddled with for the rest our lives.
"Feels weird, doesn't it?" Cissy asks in between drags of her cigarette.
"No, sort of seems right. The deaths and all. Seems like something that would occur in this house," I respond absent mindedly. I don't like that she's smoking; amongst other things, its distracting.
"That's an odd thing to say." Odd? Probably. But truthful.
"Put out the cigarette." I say it soft, but firm. I suddenly cannot stand the smell of it.
"Make me, yeah?" She is kidding, but possibly I really am going mad because in an instant I am in front of her. Close. Closer than we have been in over a year.
She lowers the cigarette, but does not put it out. She is quiet. Her breathing makes a soft, barely noticeable, yet wheezy sound. It's from the smoking, I'm sure. "Put it out."
She rolls her eyes. "Fine." She takes the cigarette and presses it against her left wrist. "It's out."
Pain. She always had a preference for it. Through the years I watched as her sides, hips and thighs became littered with scars. On the nights where Druella visited her instead of Andromeda or I, Narcissa was guaranteed to receive a lashing or two. She was forever clumsy, and never quite listened as well as her older sisters. Not so much on purpose as it was her nature to be a tad confused. Eventually I think she came into the pain. Learned to accept and master it. Now she administers it when she wants to. A mere product of her past.
Once, as we waited on the drafty platform and King's Cross station, I made her promise me she'd stop, but I suppose promises were just one of the many things that meant nothing to us. They were just words used to sate another.
Masks on the monsters that are our true intentions.
So that is to say that I am not surprised by Narcissa's actions, but rendered silent nonetheless. And for the first time since the days before our joint wedding, my lips are on hers. Hard. My arms are tugging at her clothes. "Diffindo," I whisper, waving my wand around us. And here we are, naked. I place my wand on the coffee table to the right of us and run my fingers along her scars, lightly. Just grazing the skin. She shivers under my touch.
"Bella."
And I am on her. She stumbles onto the chaise lounge. My burgundy lipstick leaves evidence of longing on her ever-pale skin. I look up at her. I see protest in her eyes. We are both married women. We are sisters. Our mother has just died. I hesitate for a split second and then, as if to make up for time wasted, I hungrily nip at her neck. Harder, and harder. I taste blood. My hand cups her breasts and my thumbs circle over her nipples. They harden under my touch.
"Mmm, we shouldn't Bella...Lu-Lucius." Lucius? His name comes out of her mouth in a whisper. Barely verbalized. He just barely exists to her, but even still, I will make her forget him. Even if only temporarily.
"Lucius who?" I ask softly, as I trail my index finger down her front, stopping only when I reach just below her navel. She does not answer me but bites her lip. Struggling with right and wrong. She is better than I, but more importantly better than Malfoy. I rub my fingers over her most sensitive area. She closes her eyes. And her hips arch up. A welcome response.
"Has he even given you a proper fuck, Cissy? Have you ever said his name during?" Rhetorical question. I know the answer.
"Bella..." It is half plea, half moan. I am teasing. Almost as punishment. For smoking, and saying his name, and not coming to visit.
Punishment for not being my Cissy and mine alone.
Two fingers thrust into her. Forcefully, and if it is any indication, her body certainly wants this. Even if her mind is unsure.
I lower myself, and give no warning as I allow my tongue to enter her. She makes a small gasping sound and as I continue my task I feel her knees shake as she locks her legs around my back.
I run my hand back up to her erect nipple and pinch it as hard as I can. Twisting it as I feel her body convulse and I taste her orgasm.
"Bella!" She moans my name as she has always done, loud and throaty.
I make my way back up her body so that our breasts are touching and we are eye to eye. I grasp her neck in my hand and apply slight pressure as I kiss her, releasing what's left of my emotion.
"I don't ever want to see you smoking again." She nods as I release her, taking deep breaths.
For a second she is my Cissy again. My moon, surrounded by the Black that will eventually consume us both.
I roll to the side of her and place my arms around her shoulders. She raises her wand and in a swift movement we are beneath covers. Her eyelids are heavy. She hasn't changed at all. And as she nods off into my arms the realization hits me that neither have I.