InsaneJournal

HP Drabbles
Various HP drabbles. All fairly porny. :)


"You're in love with Moony."

There's a singsong quality to the voice and Tonks looks away from the mirror quickly. It's happening again. Even though she's taking the stress-free potions and she's trying to get plenty of sleep, or as much sleep as wartime allows.

It's happening again. He's back.

"You are! I can see you blushing! Well, I can see me blushing, but it's the same thing!"

She looks back at the glass and sees that he's right. There's a red flush in her (his) cheeks and it's at odds with the smirk that isn't hers. With a focusing of energy, she forces her body back to her own - hazel eyes turning grey, messy crop of black hair shooting through with purple, curves smoothing out her figure.

It lasts all of a minute before he comes back.

"Go away," she whispers at the reflection.

"That's not friendly. You invited me. You wanted me here."

It's true. She can protest it but they both know. She'd found the photo tucked into one of Remus's robes. Nineteen-year old James Potter, looking bright and brilliant, on the verge of a life of exciting exploits. She'd done it just to see if she could, pouring herself into his mould, sculpting James Potter out of her flesh.

She'd done it like she'd done it with so many other faces and figures. Just, this one wouldn't go away.

"Show him. Go on."

She shakes her head mutely and her reflection laughs at her.

"Quite right too, Nymphadora. Moony'd think you're daft for thinking you can be me. It'd be heresy in his eyes. Thou shalt have no God but me, Nymphadora."

A breeze goes through the room and the silence makes her think that maybe she can be her again. Maybe. She lifts her eyes and sees him watching her still. But the smirk's faded. There's something solemn about the set of his face.

"You want him, don't you? You want Moony."

There's a hint of a smirk at her nod. But it's not enough to break the intensity of his gaze. She can't look away when he's looking at her like that. His tongue makes a slow swipe over his lips and she thinks she feels it too, hot and wet.

Her hands lift without her telling them to and it's like a stranger undressing her with her own body. The brush over her fingers over her bare, flat chest seems unfamiliar.

"Keep watching, Nymphadora," James tells her. Her hand is slipping between her legs. "Let me show you how he likes it."



No one tries to tell him that things are going to be the same now she's come to live with them. They know he's not stupid enough to believe them. Rabastan's sullen at the wedding, outright sulky when house elves are scurrying up the stairs with Bellatrix's cases. And he's spitting mad when Rodolphus tells him not to complain when Bellatrix insists on keeping the curtains closed all day long.

"She's a very delicate creature," Rodolphus tells him. Rabastan thinks of the woman he saw stripping leaves off the potted palm while whispering to herself and wonders if 'delicate' is the word he'd use.

There is no chance of refusal when, on a whim, Bellatrix plans a picnic. Rabastan trails along behind them while Bellatrix runs after birds like a kitten and Rodolphus watches with an adoring smile on his face.

He's as rude as he dares while they eat. He's glad that Bellatrix is so very mad and doesn't notice when he gives one word answers to her questions.

He picks at some salad, staring off into the distance, when he hears the conversation stop and then Rodolphus moving. Sneaking a glance out from under his lashes, he sees Bellatrix on her back on the picnic blanket, skirts up about her middle and her legs spread. Rodolphus is crawling between her thighs.

They ignore him while they fuck. He's so completely forgotten that he feels safe to watch. Rodolphus rises and falls between Bella's milk-white thighs. His brother grunts out curses and endearments. Bella's hands become claws as Rodolphus thrusts harder and faster into her.

She's left gasping when Rodolphis finally comes and rolls off of her. Her hair is full of static, a frizzy black cloud about her flushed face. Her legs are still parted wide and Rabastan can see his brother's come glisten at her cunt.

There's a look that goes between her and Rodolphus and then they're both looking at Rabastan. Bella stretches a hand towards him.

Rodolphus laughs and claps Rabastan on the back.

"Sure you can't learn to like her?" he says.



It's like being fifteen again. That same guilty, ashamed heat, creeping up the back of his neck, settling low in his belly. It drives him up the wall that he can have gone from student to pupil but deep down, he's still the same, still wanting what he really shouldn't have.

Remus corners Snape in the staffroom, ostensibly to apologise for the boggart incident. He's friendly and amiable but he doesn't move when Snape tries to brush past him. He holds his ground, refusing to let his smile budge.

Snape gives in, as Remus knew he would. He doesn't do it gracefully, he does it with a sneer and an impatient sigh. Like he's disgusted. Remus doesn't know if he's disgusted with himself, for having his hand on Remus's cock, or disgusted with Remus, for coming apart so helplessly at his touch.

It happens over and over. Snape even comes to his rooms after the Full Moon and fucks him. There's no gentleness in the way he lays hands on Snape, only the kind of care he uses to pluck the leaves from herbs.

Sometimes, when Snape looks at him, Remus thinks he catches the old light in his eyes, that maybe this is more than just stealing something away from Sirius and James. Remus tells himself that maybe that's what's happening between them. He goes on believing it until the night in the Shack, when Snape is ready to hand anyone and everyone over to the Dementors so long as Sirius goes too.

And then, when Remus looks at Snape, he realises that Snape still feels like he's fifteen too.



Rabastan's not the same as he was before. He's more open in his contempt for Lucius and his smooth attempts at seduction. The great black stones of Azkaban are reflected in Rabastan's eyes. He's so thin he ought to be frail but there's an inhuman strength in the way he pushes Lucius down onto his plump, padded sofa. He slithers into Lucius's lap and wraps himself about him, so tightly Lucius thinks he might never breathe again.

Rabastan used to kiss Lucius, once he'd been petted and cajoled into submission that is. He used to be sweet and needy. Now he's just hungry. His teeth are sharp, breaking the skin in something that cannot even pretend to be a kiss. Lucius's blood is warm over his skin as Rabastan strips him and mouths over his collarbone, chest, belly.

Lucius nuzzles at his thick, dark hair briefly. But he has to stop because though it's as soft as ever, it smells of the grave, of time and decay. And when he does stop, Rabastan looks up at him. He can almost see his sweet, pretty boy looking up at him. Just for a second.

Then Rabastan parts his wet, red lips and takes Lucius's cock into his mouth, and the illusion shatters. Things have been taught in Azkaban, Rabastan's learnt his lessons well. And it's nothing to do with Lucius.

He moans as Rabastan's head bobs between his legs, as much in distress as pleasure. Rabastan's nails score lines down Lucius's thighs, catlike and cruel.

It's not his Rabastan. It's not. And the worst thing is: the hand he raises to push Rabastan away, wavers, then settles on Rabastan's hollowed cheek. Strokes him.



Lucius fucks Rabastan for the first time when Rabastan is fifteen. He's still little more than a child, naive and easily seduced. He cries very quietly when Lucius bends him over. But he's hushed by Lucius's gentle kisses afterwards. That's the first time, and Rodolphus nearly shatters Lucius's jaw with a punch for it.

The second time, Lucius has been married for three whole hours. Laughter and chatter float through the dark dusk air as Lucius searches the grounds of Malfoy Manor. He finds Rabastan curled up in the folly, looking sulky and red-eyed. Rabastan is seventeen. That's the second time, and Bellatrix's wrathful scream when she finds them together, damp with sweat and still mostly naked, is only a little less painful than the hexes she rains down upon Lucius.

The third time, they both know the Aurors are coming. Rabastan can't speak about it. He simply shakes his head every time Lucius asks what happened, stops Lucius's mouth with a kiss. His nails dig a little too deep when he clings to Lucius. His narrow hips don't move smoothly against Lucius's, they jerk and buck. He pushes back too hard and Lucius has to struggle not to hurt him. That's the third time and Rabastan has been gone for all over half an hour when the Aurors barge in and demand to know if Lucius has seen him.

It's the third time but not the last.



It's embarrassing at first, having his baby brother trail around after him. Rodolphus has cultivated the image of himself as someone hard and dangerous. Rabastan, with his fluttery lashes and uncertain pout, makes it hard to maintain his reputation.

He tries ignoring him, tries shouting at him, tries explaining it to him. Nothing works. Rabastan spends his entire first year at Hogwarts as close as possible to his brother.

Second year, Rodolphus resolves that it's going to be different. He's sixteen now and Bellatrix has just noticed him and Lucius has stopped treating him like a lower class of sentience. He's not going to let Rabastan ruin it for him.

So he's clever enough to make a joke of it. He indulges Rabastan's desperate need to spend every waking moment at Rodolphus's elbow. This wins him soft looks from Bellatrix, who tells him she's impressed to see that he's not the thug everyone says he is. And Lucius laughs at little Rabastan, small and dark and curled up with his head on Rodolphus's thigh on the sofa in the common room, and says they should make him his mascot.

The third year, and Rodolphus's last, it's not embarrassing to Rodolphus at all, but it does start to make Rabastan look bad. The boy won't even consider making friends in his own year. Instead, he's already won Lucius over and is making headway with Bellatrix. Rodolphus starts to feel annoyed.

So he takes Rabastan aside and tries to make him see that this has to stop. He's still talking when his little brother sighs at him, in a put-upon way, and gets down on his knees. When he looks down at Rabastan, Rodolphus realises that he somehow managed to miss the moment when little boy chubbiness became the softness of androgyny.

And after Rabastan has sucked him off in the hallway, Rodolphus makes sure his brother is always within reaching distance.