springsmutfairy (springsmutfairy) wrote in hp_springsmut, @ 2009-03-14 12:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | andromeda/narcissa, femmeslash, fic |
Happy Springsmut, tristesses!
Author: la_dissonance
Recipient: tristesses
Title: Purity
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Andromeda/Narcissa, background permutations of Andromeda/Narcissa/Bellatrix/Regulus
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: It would be lying to say her sisters didn't frighten her a bit when they got like this, all private, secret, as though they were the only two such beings in the universe. As if Andromeda wasn't cut from the same cloth, as if she wasn't a Black just like them. For she was, exactly.
Warnings: Some non-con (not in main pairing); D/s; incest (see pairing); mentions of het; femslash; AU leanings (though it could go either way)
Word Count: ~10,000
Author's Notes: Hope you enjoy this, tristesses! I had so much fun playing with your prompts. Many thanks to A for the beta!
~
The walls in the old house were thin: in the winter, one could feel the winds off the lake buffeting the north face, chill tendrils seeping through invisible cracks; in the summer, with all the windows thrown open, there was nothing to stop voices echoing from one end of the building to another. But even without the windows open, voices carried plain enough between adjoining rooms.
Andromeda supposed she might be the only one who knew this. One had to be silent in order to hear, after all, and her sisters were anything but silent, and rarely still. She could hear them now, in the hall outside her room, arguing in tight, small voices they must be sure no one could hear. Andromeda put aside her book.
"They want me to tame him, get him used to taking orders, so he won't question the senior members' authority. And they also say they want me to toughen him up for the work – tell me, Bella, how am I supposed to do the two at once?"
There was a low chuckle. "Are you asking for my help, Cissy?"
"No, no, I must do it myself. Besides, I would never dream of asking."
"Don't be silly, Cissy. Of course I would help."
A floorboard creaked, the voice dropped. "Yes, but at what price?"
The words were spoken low enough that Andromeda had to strain to hear them. Seductively low, she imagined with a shiver.
Another dark chuckle. "Surely not one you would be unwilling to pay. But you're looking forward to doing this yourself, aren't you?"
"Yes, of course. I'm sure the difficulties of his training shall not prove... insurmountable. I quite look forward to taming the boy; Merlin knows he needs it. The rest will come later."
There were twin laughs now, soft, dark. Andromeda pulled her dressing gown closer around herself. It would be lying to say her sisters didn't frighten her a bit when they got like this, all private, secret, as though they were the only two such beings in the universe. As if Andromeda wasn't cut from the same cloth, as if she wasn't a Black just like them. For she was, exactly.
It would be lying to say it wasn't a good kind of fright.
Their voices faded down the hall, leaving Andromeda to herself again. She hardly needed to pick up her book, only had to skim a few lines to immerse herself again in the scenario playing out on its pages. It was an ancient volume, dreadful, really, but far better than the tawdry paperbacks Andromeda's dorm mates at Hogwarts had taken for erotica. The authors (brothers, it seemed, and probably long-dead relatives of hers) had made an art out of Muggle baiting. Especially the pretty Muggle girls. They had taken pains to instruct readers in their exact methods, peppering their account with anecdotes that left nothing to the imagination.
Andromeda liked to think she had a good imagination nevertheless. Though she'd never done anything like what was described on those cracking pages, never done anything at all really, she knew she'd be good at it, would take to sex like a fish to water...
Her hand slid beneath the scalloped elastic of her panties, past the wiry curls to finally glide down her slick cleft. She stroked herself slowly, mind flitting from one torrid scenario to the next, sometimes putting herself in the place of the Muggle baiter – oh, those pretty girls, so helpless – sometimes putting herself in the girl's place. So helpless.
She held her breath as she came, not wanting to let out any telltale sound. Narcissa might still be awake.
~
The walls of the old house were thin, so it wasn't long before Andromeda found out what her sisters had been talking about in the hall that night. Narcissa had a man in her room. Andromeda saw the light coming from under her sister's door when she passed to go to the bathroom, but she didn't hear them until she was back in her own room, pulling her quilt up around her chin. It was their voices she heard first; murmurs that could have belonged to a woman or a man, indistinct and wordless. She pressed her ear to the wall above her headboard, and jumped back when the unmistakable crack of a whip hitting flesh came next. Breathing a bit faster, she pressed her ear to the wall again.
There was never a week he didn't come at least one night, and it wasn't long before Andromeda's guess as to the identity of the student was confirmed. Even without having attended any of her sisters' secret meetings, she'd met most of their cohorts; there were only a few that hadn't already been family friends. And she only knew of a few boys so young they'd only just be joining now.
"Good evening, Narcissa. Regulus," she said, inclining her head to the pair coming down the narrow corridor. She was glad she hadn't changed into her nightgown yet.
"Good evening, Andromeda," Narcissa said.
Regulus just looked at her from under his hair.
Andromeda studied him, feigning for a moment her fair sister's cool shell. The boy was thin and hunched his shoulders against her gaze; his over-grown hair shone dully in the candlelight and obscured his fine features. He didn't look much like the arrogant little child Andromeda remembered from Hogwarts; this guarded young man hardly looked like one who needed taming. Perhaps it was just a bit of Death Eater sport.
Narcissa followed Andromeda's gaze. "Care to leave your filthy books for a night and join us?"
Oh, how she would have loved to say yes. A night at Narcissa's mercies was surely better than anything her imagination or the filthy books could conjure up. "And should I take that seriously? You've never been good at sharing your things."
"Too true." Narcissa laughed. She jerked Regulus's head up by his hair, and ran her crimson-tipped fingers along the white expanse of exposed throat. "Our cousin Regulus is a pretty little thing, isn't he? And I have him all to myself."
Andromeda turned her eyes from the lewd display. "I'll leave you to him, then. Good night."
Out of the corner of her eye she caught Regulus flinch; she supposed Narcissa might have scraped him. It would be pointless to wait for a good night in return.
Narcissa laid her wand to the wood of her door and intoned some secret incantation, and Andromeda squeezed past them and made her way to the bathroom at the end of the narrow hall. The last door on the right was closed; Andromeda wondered whether Bellatrix was in there, whether she listened too. Surely they had all come home from their secret meeting together.
The bathroom was antique, like the rest of the house. The bathtub rested on clawed feet; the showerhead needed to be unclogged by elf magic nearly every time one wanted to use it; the mirror above the ancient sink carried such a patina of streaks and ghosts of reflections, one had to squint to see oneself in it.
Jealousy coursed under Andromeda's skin, both in general and in particular, and she could fairly see it burning through her eyes in her stained reflection. Narcissa could be with Bellatrix; fine, Andromeda was used to that by now – whatever there was going on between them, it had probably been going on since the time before any of them knew about sex, and there had been only power, pure, white power. Children know all about power, especially children such as they had been. But Regulus? Another Black? Narcissa would take him into her bedroom, knowing full well Andromeda was just a wall away, just waiting? That was far harder to stand for.
The older jealousy was there too, rekindled by the newer. Narcissa was doing it, living out Merlin knew how many of Andromeda's fantasies – and now it was right next to her, with their own cousin. And who knew how many others she did it with far from here. Call Slytherins immune to the idea of justice if you will, but something deep within Andromeda cried out at the unfairness of it all. There was no understanding (though of course Andromeda had tried time and time again) how it could have happened that her younger sister was able to have her fill of bed partners while Andromeda was stuck with lifeless partners who had pages in place of skin, who could never reach out and touch her.
Where had she gone wrong? Where had hers and Narcissa's paths deviated? They were the same, liked the same things, only for Narcissa they were real. Andromeda's chance had never came, though she had waited for it through Hogwarts, and then through three years of life in this damned house in the country. And it never came. Surely she couldn't have missed it; she had waited so vigilantly. She would have jumped on the slightest opportunity. She was far beyond ready by now.
The sounds of her sister's activities greeted Andromeda when she returned to her room, nightly toilette complete. Maybe she should have taken Narcissa up on her taunting offer, if only to see what she'd have done. One couldn't wait forever for opportunities to come along; sometimes one had to make one's own.
~
Sometimes one has to make one's own opportunities.
Andromeda surveyed the plain building the Apparition coordinates had brought her to; it didn't look like much. But it had taken a great deal of careful, discrete research to find it, and now she had, and it was hard to believe that she could just walk through the doors and all the waiting would be over. Out of all the times she'd looked into the future and pointed at a moment and said, Now, here, this will be the one. This is when it will happen, she was finally able to say it and know – almost know – that the future wasn't going to prove her wrong. Best to take it out of the future's hands, then.
Nerves singing, she spoke the password and walked into the place. The atmosphere was dark and the rooms were full of corners and shadows, the shadows full of debauchery. It wasn't far from how she had pictured it. Andromeda shook her head reflexively at the first person who approached her, a bulky middle aged man wearing an outfit composed of nothing but black leather straps. She just needed a second to get her bearings –
Everyone wore masks here, she realized, looking around. It was the work of a simple charm to craft one for herself, and she instantly felt more at ease. It was easier to look around knowing no one could see the direction of her gaze. These are my kind of people, she thought, trying to catalog their faces, their bodies, what they were doing and how they were doing it, for later, should she decide to come here a second time. That girl over there – spiky black hair, arse wrapped in shiny red hot pants, feet in spiky boots planted on either side of her partner, gyrating in his lap (her partner, bound to the chair, pierced nipples connected by a gossamer chain that led back to her hand, eyes tight shut in bliss) - she was one Andromeda would have to remember for later.
"Why aren't you the pretty one." A short woman touched Andromeda's arm familiarly, distracting her. "First time here?"
"Yes," Andromeda admitted. "And not just here – anywhere." She'd heard stories of what they did to virgins at places like this; she hoped they weren't just stories. She hoped it happened here.
The masked woman eyed her up and down. "Even better. I think my friend would fancy you."
Andromeda looked around the woman, but no one was with her. "I – I don't think I'd like him, though." Blast. How did one communicate one was only looking for female partners? For all that she knew exactly what she'd do if she got a chance, she had no idea what she'd do in the space leading up to it. There wasn't supposed to be that awkward lead-in here; people were doing the most intimate things to each other all around.
"Oh, but I think my friend would like you. Come."
Andromeda followed, practicing phrases of polite decline in her head as she went. The woman's friend turned out to be another woman, however, tall this time, with dark hair tightly bound at the nape of her neck. She was wearing a formidable construct of leather and studs, and a pair of the tallest boots Andromeda had ever seen. It all went straight to Andromeda's groin, and the tingle of fear down her spine sharpened into anticipation. It got worse when the tall woman talked. Her mask covered her entire face, and the voice that issued from it was cold, almost grating. "What have we here?"
Andromeda kept silent, not sure whether she was permitted to speak or not, nor whether that was even a question at this point. Her silence seemed to please the tall woman.
"Get up there." The woman pointed to a raised platform.
Andromeda got on it. There was no negotiation, no introductions, and Andromeda was surprised. She didn't let it show. Her arousal was quickly taking over her anxiety, but she didn't let that show, either. Just to be ordered around like that, like it was nothing, like the woman knew beyond doubt that she would do it...
"So it's your first time here, is it?"
Andromeda nodded, and hands pushed her roughly. She knelt like she assumed the woman wanted. The shorter woman, the one who had brought her here, pressed at her shoulders and made tsk, tsk noises until Andromeda understood she was supposed to go on her hands and knees. She flushed, feeling foolish.
"And you've never done this before?" The cold, grating voice was behind her now.
"No."
"No, madam!"
Andromeda corrected herself, feeling foolish again. She'd known to say that without being told; it was in all the books. Why had she let herself become distracted?
"Good." There was a low chuckle. "You'll like this then, I reckon."
Andromeda wanted badly to look behind her and see what it was she was supposed to like, but didn't dare. Her robes were abruptly pushed up around her waist, her underwear pulled down around her knees, and she blushed furiously. Anyone walking by could see her exposed; what had she been thinking? At least they couldn't see her face. Nothing at all happened for a worrisome minute. She knew she was already soaking wet just from walking through the place, and she hoped that her – mistresses? partners? would be pleased by it. They gave no sign.
Without warning, something slick nudged against Andromeda's folds, making her gasp. It must be a dildo, she thought, and wondered how big it was, and how much it would hurt, and how well she'd be able to hold up. She wondered if she was in the right state of mind for this at all. She had no idea.
"Oh, look how eager she is for it," one of the women crooned, and the other – it must have been the one with the boots up to her hips – laughed coldly. "Let's see how she likes this."
Andromeda was unprepared for how dirty it would feel when the tip of the dildo slid upward to press against her other hole; even in her own explorations she'd hardly touched herself there. Soon there was no more room for such thoughts, for it kept pressing forward, and for all that it was slick with lube, surely it would never fit inside. It was the oddest sensation she'd ever experienced, and it burned a bit, but not badly. Maybe if she just breathed deeply and tried to relax –
The tip was suddenly past the tightest ring of muscle, whether by her own efforts or from sheer force. She whimpered. Oh ow, that was weird.
That small chuckle again. "Knew she'd like it."
Andromeda rolled her eyes behind her mask. Shows how much you know. Feels like I'm stuck in the middle of going to the bathroom, and who in their right mind would like that?
The woman pushed the dildo in all the way, and, oh, that didn't feel good. It burned worse now, and Andromeda could feel her muscles fighting against the intrusion. Her eyes watered involuntarily and she blinked the tears back; she wasn't going to let herself be made a fool of in front of all these people. She shifted, trying in vain to find some comfortable position.
"She's positively hungry for it, Maud!" The boots woman cackled shrilly and her friend – Maud, apparently – joined in. "Guess we should give her what she wants."
The dildo pulled out partway, offering a second of relief, and then it rammed forward inside of her. Tears sprang to her eyes and she bit back another cry. After that the fucking was relentless; it made the first entry look slow and positively gentle. Andromeda did cry out then, unable to stop it. Okay, this really fucking hurt now, there was no way in hell anyone could stand this, forget about finding pleasure in pain and all that crap.
"Stop!" she choked out. And when that had no effect, louder, beyond caring that everyone in the place would hear her and know she had failed. And then louder still, because who did they fucking think they were to do this to her, and why weren't they stopping already? She tried to get away, but couldn't; strong hands grabbed her ankles and pulled her back. The fucking bitch. How dare she humiliate Andromeda in public like this, and hurt her, and make her look so pathetic.
It didn't stop for a while yet, but the anger helped numb the pain a little, and Andromeda focused on reciting a string of obscenities in her head against the sadistic, evil, dildo-wielding woman, who was positively laughing as she did it...
At last the object withdrew and didn't come back. Andromeda rocked back on her heels despite the stab of pain the motion caused, letting her robes fall down about her folded legs. She was far beyond caring what she was 'permitted' to do or not do at this point. Her abuser didn't seem to care either.
Something was shoved into her face, practically under her nose, and Andromeda recoiled as it came into focus.
"Now that doesn't look so bad, does it?" The woman laughed.
It was the dildo she had been using. Andromeda had to look away. It was only half as wide as it had felt, didn't look like something that could possibly be so unbearable.
"And to think, this is all it took to get you screaming and begging so prettily for me," the masked woman hissed, grabbing Andromeda's chin and forcing her to look again. "Imagine what I could do with more... We certainly hope we'll be seeing you here again, don't we, Maud?"
The shorter woman laughed along with the boots woman, and Andromeda felt sick. The sound of them reminded her too much of her sisters, sharing secrets outside her door late at night. She scrambled off the platform and set her clothing to rights, kicking her panties aside as a permanent loss.
"You cunt," she spat at the taller woman. Her companion appeared amused, so Andromeda turned her glare on her too, spat at their feet, and then walked out of the place without looking back. She could practically feel the eyes on her as she threaded her way through the club's occupants, but she kept her head up and refused to meet any of their stares.
The night air was bitterly cold, and it burned her swollen, tear stained face. She walked briskly for a few blocks, not yet ready to Apparate, wanting to put some physical distance between herself and that place. The streets were nearly empty at this hour; a grease stained paper bag rolled by, driven by the wind, and a stray dog sleeping in the gutter lifted its head as it passed. A man in a long coat smoked under the lone street light on the other side of the road.
Andromeda walked until she finally started to calm down, almost relishing the persistent ache in her arse now she was in control of it. Sure, she could stop walking any time she wanted, but she wanted to enjoy the tranquility a little longer. She could bear the ache for the next step, and the next.
When the wind stopped biting Andromeda's face, and sank in to numb it instead, she turned on her heel and thought of home.
~
Narcissa was sitting on the edge of Andromeda's bed when she opened the door, thumbing through the book Andromeda had left in her nightstand drawer. Andromeda must have neglected to lock her door in her haste to get to the club.
"Why hello, Narcissa. Having fun?"
"Oh, Andromeda," Narcissa said. "I was wondering when you'd get back."
Andromeda felt like just falling into bed and forgetting it all. She didn't have the energy to deal with Narcissa. "I'm taking a shower," she said instead, grabbing her dressing gown off the back of her desk chair.
When she got back, damp around the edges and feeling marginally cleaner and more relaxed, Narcissa was still there.
"Thinking of joining the Death Eaters? You should have said." Narcissa was still reading the book, though she put her hand in its gutter now, and looked up.
"No."
"Mind if I bring this to the next meeting ,then? It's a dreadfully good manual; I'm sure some of these things haven't been tried in decades. The Lestrange brothers would like this one." She indicated an engraving of two wizards entering a Muggle girl at the same time and leered. "I always thought they seemed queerly... close."
Oh, the irony. "You know I don't get along with your friends," was all Andromeda said. She waved toward the book, toward the idea of Pureblood supremacy in general. "That stuff's all make-believe; you're not supposed to take it seriously."
Narcissa arched one artificially-darkened eyebrow. She never could stand for the idiosyncrasies of her oddly pale complexion; she said it was as though by being born last, all the Black essence had been used up already, and she was left to make up for it how she might. They both knew better, though. It was the middle sister who was left with no essence, the day and the night leeching it from her on both sides.
"Keep telling yourself that if you want, dear."
"Why don't you take that back to your own room, if you're so keen on reading it?" Andromeda could worry about what Narcissa's friends did or didn't actually do later; right now she just wanted her bed back.
Narcissa must have heard her weariness in her voice. "You look sickly, Andy – not at all well." Her tone was sympathetic, even if her words were not. "Something happened while you were out, didn't it? Tell me about it" Narcissa sometimes liked this; to sit calmly and play the confessor, the good sister.
Andromeda found herself telling her everything. She sank down gingerly on the end of her bed and just let the story spill out, glossing over the details, like where she found the club or her own weakness while she was in it. But Narcissa seemed to have gotten the picture anyway; the bed dipped as she shifted closer to Andromeda.
Surprisingly enough, Narcissa responded with equal parts sympathy (oh, Andy, does it still hurt? You poor dear) and indignation (That woman! How could a predator like her be allowed so close to the unsuspecting public? If she's in the habit of disguising rapes as innocent play, someone should really be notified). Maybe it was only surprising because Andromeda had expected to be laughed at.
"You really should have known better than to go to a place like that, Andy. The last thing you want is a bad dom, and how could you ever tell there?"
"No, I shouldn't have, but I trusted that the wards wouldn't let anything actually bad happen," Andromeda said, prickling. Maybe if you hadn't left me to figure things out all alone... "I did the best I could."
Narcissa sighed. "Perhaps. Though of course, the anti-harm wards are easily confused by such a complex definition of harm, and a woman like that wouldn't have trouble manipulating them anyway. I hope this hasn't ruined it for you permanently. You ought to at least wait until you find someone who really knows what they're doing before you make any decisions."
"Someone like you, perhaps?"
A small smile warmed Narcissa's lips. "For example."
It was only after the moment stretched and Narcissa kept smiling that smile that Andromeda realized yes, she was going to make her do all the work here. Of course. "You could show me."
"Could I?"
"Yes, you could," hissed Andromeda, already tired of this game, wishing she didn't have to win it in order to move on to better games. "If you wanted to."
"But certainly, Andy, you can't be asking... I am your own sister, after all. If anyone knew."
"No one will know." Truly, it was the least of their concerns: one more dark rumor to sink into the fabric of dark rumors the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black was made of – if it ever even became that much. Then, supposing it might be what Narcissa had wanted to hear in the first place, Andromeda offered, "I'd rather it be you than some stranger I don't know at all."
A windowpane rattled, letting in a wisp of cold air that dissipated in the warmth of the room before it could reach the figures on the bed. Narcissa's gaze was steady, but it had grown masked, and Andromeda could read little from it.
"You must still be sore," she said finally, and wordlessly summoned a small rust-colored pot from her own room. She held it out to Andromeda.
After a second Andromeda took it. "Thanks." This wasn't quite sympathetic sister mode anymore; there was something about Narcissa just now that Andromeda hadn't seen before.
"You'll want to put it on right away," Narcissa said. She didn't move.
"In front of you, you mean," Andromeda guessed.
Narcissa inclined her head; yes. "If you really want me to show you, then you must agree to do what I tell you."
The always hung in the air unsaid, and Andromeda's breath hitched. Not just in the bedroom, not just when they were alone...
"All right," Andromeda said. Better someone who knew her than a stranger; better someone who could show her all of it than just a part.
"Good girl." That small smile again. "You won't need your robe on."
Andromeda shrugged out of her bath robe, shivering when a draft kissed her shoulders. The air in the room was cool against her bare skin, and she wished she could lift the quilts over herself as she lay back on the pillows. She left them where they were. The lid of the rust-colored pot stuck a bit, but she finally got it open and scooped out a generous portion of the silky ointment within, aware of Narcissa's eyes on her the whole time.
She had to pretend they weren't there when she lowered her fingers and applied the salve; if anyone had been watching they'd have been able to see the marks the boots woman had left there; or laugh at the tentative way she touched herself. It did soothe the ache, though – the ointment didn't settle and bury the feeling under a layer of numbness, like Mother's itch potion did; instead it seemed to sink into her skin and the ache seeped away from it bit by bit.
Narcissa was silent. Andromeda hazarded a glance, trying not to let her sudden flare of nerves show. Narcissa met her eyes, and that was, somehow, reassuring.
Andromeda continued with the salve – Narcissa would have told her if she was doing something wrong, so she must have gotten it right the first time – she continued until even the memory of the intrusion had seeped away from her muscles and they felt new. Her eyes flicked up to Narcissa again and a slight tilt of the head allowed her to close the container and hand it back.
Still Narcissa did not make to get up from the bed. "Show me," she said, Banishing the pot of salve, "how you pleasure yourself at night after you've been reading out of your book."
"Now?"
Narcissa arched an eyebrow. "I don't remember saying you were permitted to question what I say before doing it."
Andromeda blushed; her knees, which had unconsciously dropped to rest on the mattress, began to drift together again. With effort, Andromeda made them fall. She began to stroke herself; the salve had felt good going on, and she was a little wet from that. She wondered if it would be possible to get herself off with her sister there, watching, judging her. She was ashamed of her technique, far more than her organs – those, Narcissa had herself, but no one had seen Andromeda do this before, and she had seen no one do it. It looked, in all likelihood, crude and inelegant, for all it was the thing she had the most practice doing. She could feel herself drying under her hand even now.
"Andy, Andy, stop. You're thinking too much." There was a glint as of steel, or diamonds, in the back of Narcissa's eye. "Did I tell you to put on a show?"
"No," Andromeda said, blushing harder.
That small smile.
Narcissa leaned a bit closer and gestured at Andromeda's hand between her legs. "This is not how you do it when you're alone. Don't think – just feel."
"Yes, Narcissa." A wave of heat surged through Andromeda's loins when she leaned closer; what if she would touch –
She didn't, but Andromeda did; sliding her fingers against her slick skin she imagined it was Narcissa doing it. She kept half-closed eyes trained on her sister as she began to work more purposefully, endless circles that tightened around her clit and brought her soaring nearer to the edge. She kept her eyes trained on Narcissa and imagined that perfectly formed mouth saying she was doing well, fastening around her clit and licking her to completion. She imagined those delicate hands, so like her own, stroking her thighs, sliding inexorably inside, and the pleasure built higher.
She kept her eyes trained on Narcissa, and wondered, as she came, if Narcissa knew how Andromeda had been thinking of her as she touched herself. There was no way she couldn't – Andromeda felt a thrill of almost-fear. Narcissa had already shown she could read Andromeda like an open book. She had known, and she had let her...
The bed creaked as Narcissa stood up. "Good night, Andromeda." Her voice was uninflected, her face a cool mask as always, but Andromeda fancied she could hear a faint warmth of approval in those two words. She fell asleep that night happy.
~
Anticipated happiness may be more powerful than real happiness.
It was more than three days before Narcissa made any sign; three days of Andromeda wondering what she had done to be so summarily rejected. A promise had been made, but she couldn't keep it if Narcissa never gave her another command.
On the third night Narcissa took Regulus to her bed, and for the first time Andromeda cast a silencing spell on the wall, and fell into a fitful sleep. She was plagued by dreams of excommunication, of being disowned, of running before the hoard of Bella and Cissy's Death Eater friends, trying to call out stop, stop, I'm one of you, don't you see? But she had no voice.
On the fourth day, Andromeda despaired of Narcissa ever looking her way again. The house was empty, the wind making the walls creak and the pale sun mocking Andromeda through dusty drapes as she wandered from room to room. She knew she was being ridiculous and maudlin; she could have mocked herself and saved the sun its trouble.
In the upstairs bathroom she found Narcissa's hairbrush lying abandoned by the sink; she took it up and brushed her hair until it hung in shining, crackling curtains around her face. She let her eyes slide half shut and the streaked mirror showed her a true Black. The kind Narcissa really loved. When she finally turned away she put her hair back the way it had been, but she took the brush with her. If Narcissa didn't even comment on that, it would be proof.
That night the dreams returned; this time Andromeda had her voice but she couldn't run, and the pursuers surrounded her in an unbroken circle of black robes as she told them again and again she was one of them, to stop, to look who it was they were hunting. They wouldn't listen.
On the fifth morning, Narcissa swept by her on the stairs, their robes rustling and clinging together.
"I can't seem to find my hairbrush, Andy," she murmured into her ear. "Wait for me in your room after breakfast."
Andromeda waited. She contemplated taking off her clothes, but Narcissa hadn't said anything about that, and waiting naked could be presumptuous. Or maybe it went without saying? But Andromeda didn't think so, and so she waited, clothed, in the middle of her bed. It was almost noon before Narcissa deigned to arrive, and Andromeda was nearly bored out of her mind. She had resorted to trying to time the slide of the shadows against the wall, her eyes burning in their sockets when she stared too long.
Her idleness seemed to surprise Narcissa. "Well, haven't you been the patient little waiter? You've been doing nothing this whole time but wait for me... If only it wasn't for the small detail of my hairbrush being inexplicably on your vanity –" here she picked it up "– I might be inclined to look kindly on you." She came over to the side of the bed and began picking out the strands of hair from between the bristles and let them fall to the floor, dull brown mixing with shining golden. "What, not even an 'I'm sorry'? You have nothing to say for yourself?"
"I'm sorry," Andromeda said. "It was just sitting there. I don't know why I did it..."
Narcissa smirked. "I think I might, you dirty little whore. You thought I'd forgotten about us, didn't you?"
Andromeda wasn't sure whether she should apologize again or not, and not sure if she wanted to.
"Kneel," Narcissa said. Andromeda knelt and her sister prodded her nearer the tall brass headboard. She wound Andromeda's long hair once around the top bar and handed the end back to her. "Hold onto that, and don't let go no matter what."
Andromeda did as she was told; the position was awkward and forced her face close to the cold bars of the headboard. There was a whisper of an incantation and suddenly she found herself naked. She couldn't see Narcissa from this position, and couldn't tell if she'd done the same to herself.
Without warning, something hard and smooth slammed against Andromeda's backside; she was driven toward the headboard and her grip slackened in surprise.
"Don't let go," Narcissa reminded. "I'll have to give you one more for that; this one didn't count."
The back of the hairbrush – that's what it must be – smacked Andromeda once again, and she barely had time to brace herself. She bit back a yelp; that stung. The next blow came a bit lower, but it overlapped with the already twice-abused patch of skin, and Andromeda did yelp this time.
"Only four more," Narcissa said, and somehow that helped. Andromeda managed not to make a sound again, although by the fifth blow her eyes were watering so hard they threatened to spill over. Each smack of the brush caused her to tip on her knees, and Andromeda had to hold her entire body rigid to avoid letting herself swing forward. It happened once – for an instant, it seemed all her weight was suspended from her hair; the sharp tug on her scalp made her gasp and almost let go. She only tightened her grip and held herself stiffer. Finally it was over, Andromeda's entire bum raw and tingling, and Narcissa gave her permission to let go.
"You'll never doubt me again?" Narcissa asked, her tone almost gentle.
Andromeda shook her head no.
"I didn't think so," Narcissa said. "Now lie down; I'll put something on this for you."
It felt like the same ointment Narcissa had given Andromeda to apply to herself the last time, but this time Narcissa smoothed it over Andromeda's heated flesh with her own hands, and Andromeda fairly melted under her touch.
She told Narcissa, as the touches slowed and the fingers lingered, as though unwilling to let go, that no one had touched her that way before, and in the haze of dissipating tension and new pleasure, she hardly even felt foolish doing it. Her sister hummed low in her throat, and said she hadn't thought so. The touches turned into bare caresses; the ointment was gone and it was only those tiny patches of Narcissa's skin against Andromeda's – a palm, a fingertip.
"You should get dressed now," Narcissa mused. "They'll start to wonder where we are."
It took a minute for Andromeda's mind to register the command, but when she did she got up reluctantly, not wanting to leave the patch of warmth their bodies had created on the quilt, or the soft slide of fingers, or this Narcissa who spoke in a gentle voice.
Her clothes were hanging over the chair in front of her vanity, and Andromeda put them on slowly while Narcissa watched. She felt beautiful.
~
Andromeda didn't doubt after that, or maybe Narcissa simply didn't allow enough time between their liaisons for doubt to creep up. She set Andromeda a stream of small, readily accomplished tasks, and was as generous in dealing out rewards as she had been with the punishment. Andromeda got her first real kiss after kneeling by Narcissa's chair in the library for two hours, resolutely not meeting the questioning eyes of her mother, or the house elf who came in to dust. She got her second in the shadows under the basement stairs, in the middle of dinner, after fetching the seventh successive bottle of elf-made wine for Narcissa to taste. Bellatrix made cruel jokes and their mother tutted that it was really elf's work, and Andromeda's cheeks grew red from so many trips up and down the stairs, but she didn't care. The wine-flavored kiss in the shadows, that and the words good job, more than made up for the humiliation. She could drink praise from Narcissa's lips like that forever, Andromeda thought, and grow drunk with it.
"Bella's suitors will be coming to visit tomorrow evening, and I will be sitting with them," Narcissa said one night, as she passed Andromeda in the upstairs hallway. She had Regulus with her; they were clearly headed toward Narcissa's bedroom. Andromeda refused to feel jealous. I will not doubt you again... "I would be very pleased if you would serve us." Narcissa's tone was cold.
"Yes, Narcissa," she said right away, but the request, and its delivery, made her breath catch. How could Narcissa speak like this, practically as plain as daylight, right in front of Regulus – and she expected Andromeda to perform in front of guests – the Lestrange brothers, no less. She had never asked anything of Andromeda when it wasn't just the two of them, or sometimes the immediate family. The rules were changing, and it made Andromeda uneasy. What if she messed up? She tried to catch Narcissa's eye for reassurance, for something, but she had already turned away and was leading Regulus into her room by the wrist.
~
The formal parlor had been opened especially for the occasion. Usually the family kept to the library or drawing room, and usually they didn't have guests. Aunt Walburga was the one who hosted all the family functions, with her grand house in town. On the few occasions her sisters had had guests, they'd entertained them in the drawing room, or their own rooms. Andromeda hovered outside the door to the parlor, wondering if perhaps they'd chosen it specifically to intimidate her. It was the first time the thought had occurred to her that Bellatrix could well be in on it, too – for all she knew, Narcissa could be visiting her room every other night. A chill went down Andromeda's spine.
A house elf arrived carrying a tea tray heaped high with miniature cakes and assorted paraphernalia. Andromeda took the tray from it, ignoring the elf's protests that Young Mistress Andromeda could not be serving the tea! Young Mistress Andromeda bloody well would serve the tea, because Young Mistress Narcissa had told her to.
The Lestrange brothers were too busy vying for Bellatrix's nonexistent attentions to pay Andromeda much heed at first. She was sitting on the younger one's lap, bust half spilling out of her low-cut robes, shamelessly flirting with the other as if she never intended to make up her mind, and would just marry the both of them.
Andromeda poured out the tea and offered around the tray of cakes, and everything seemed to be going just fine until Bellatrix called attention to her.
"Look, Roddy, I don't believe you've met my sister. Andromeda, this is Rodolphus Lestrange, Rodolphus, Andromeda."
"We've met before," Andromeda said, but Bella ignored her.
"People say she looks just like me; can you see it? Narcissa, doesn't she look just like me?"
"Yes, she does," Narcissa agreed, and Bella chuckled.
"How would you boys like a matched pair, eh? I could marry you, Roddy, and Rabastian could have Andy. It would be almost like you didn't have to choose at all. The two of us for the two of you; what a pretty picture that would make..." Her voice dipped conspiratorially; she made a show of bending to whisper in Rodolphus's ear. "And she's still a virgin, too – how's that for Rabastian's compensation for not having me?"
Rabastian caught Andromeda's wrist as she offered the cake tray around for a second time. "Still a virgin, then? I've heard Bella's stories. Come on luv, give us a little something to tide us over until the wedding night. Just a little feel." He jerked Andromeda's arm.
With a flash of panic, she looked desperately over to where Narcissa was sitting, asking for what, she didn't know – help? Permission? Sympathy?
Narcissa arched one eyebrow and gave the tiniest of nods. What are you waiting for?
Andromeda allowed herself to be pulled down onto the couch next to the Lestrange boy, and suffered her chest to be rudely groped. He pinched a fold of flesh he must have taken for a nipple, crowing in delight, and the other three laughed along. He must be drunk, Andromeda told herself. They must all be drunk. And then, as the hand continued pawing and her face flamed bright red, Narcissa told me to do this; Narcissa must know what she's doing. It was just like holding onto her own hair while being spanked with the hairbrush – all she had to do was keep still and do as she was told, and soon it would be over.
"Found what you're looking for yet? I know whose hands I'd rather have on me, if that's how you always touch a lady," Bellatrix drawled. The company laughed again and Rabastian shoved Andromeda off his lap, giving her rump a slap as he did so. Andromeda tripped and they all laughed again. She picked up the tray, her only thoughts of finishing, and running, but Bellatrix's sharp voice called her back.
"Come here, Andy, and give Roddy a little feel too. I can't be expected to choose between the two if I can't compare techniques, can I?" She bared her teeth and the boy she was currently using as furniture smiled back, somehow mistaking the gesture.
Andromeda could feel her younger sister's eyes on her as she set the tray down again and approached her tormentors. Bile should have risen in her throat when he fumbled past the neckline of her robes, his calloused fingers rough on her skin, but all she could feel now was a sense of detached calm. She was doing this for Narcissa; that was all that mattered.
At long last – though it was probably only a few moments later – Rodolphus removed his hand from Andromeda's bodice. He made a pass at Bellatrix's bosom but she swatted his hand away before he even got close.
"I don't know, Bella. Maybe I'd rather marry her if that's the reception I get from you."
Bella's face turned sour. "Her, really, Roddy? What has she done for our cause? All she does is sit at home all day, a disgrace to the family. I bet she consorts with Muggles while we're out doing what needs to be done."
"I don't consort with Muggles all day!" Andromeda said, which was the truth. She didn't, no more than they did.
"Ah, but you would if you could. It's the sentiment that counts," Bellatrix said. "See, Roddy, on the outside we look exactly the same, but on the inside she's barely even good enough to be called a Black. Your brother hasn't got much going on inside his head either; it would be a perfect match. But you..."
Bellatrix's attention wasn't even on her anymore, but Andromeda stung as if slapped. This was far, far worse than letting half drunk, half grown men take liberties with her body. This should never have been said aloud.
How she made it through the rest of the evening, she didn't know. The foursome kept up their catty, snide, half-coded conversation, Bellatrix antagonizing both men equally, Narcissa providing the audience to her antics. Andromeda was glad to pass unnoticed most of the time, but every time the words pure blood or status or dark lord came up, Andromeda felt they were directed right at her, as though her heart had been laid bare and they could see some unworthiness there, some concrete proof that was visible to all but her.
At midnight she handed the guests their cloaks, and Bellatrix hers, for she seemed to plan on spending the night with them. Narcissa put her hand on the small of Andromeda's back and whispered in her ear, "When they leave, meet me in my room."
My room, she'd said, not Andromeda's room, not the library...
Andromeda drifted toward the staircase as Narcissa bade the brothers good night and kissed Bella on the cheek. The upstairs hallway was dark; no one had been up there that night and the elves hadn't lit the lamps. Andromeda waited outside Narcissa's door and fancied she was melting into the shadows; if Narcissa waited too long her essence would have bled away entirely by the time she arrived.
The stairs creaked and then Narcissa was with her in the hallway. She took Andromeda's hand in the dark, whispered the words to key open her door, pulled Andromeda in so close after her she nearly trod on the hem of her sister's robes. Narcissa turned and pressed Andromeda against the door as soon as they were inside.
"You did so well out there," she said, her lips almost grazing Andromeda's collarbone. She was completely transformed from the cold, harsh accomplice she had played in the drawing room; her body practically trembled. Andromeda was trembling too. "I thought it would be too much to ask –" Her words, the outline of her mouth, brushed against Andromeda's neck. "I never expected you to be so good–" The words were just moist heat now, an open-mouthed kiss on Andromeda's already heated skin. Words such as these, you could lose yourself in. "I want to show you something." Teeth nipped Andromeda's earlobe as if she were some delicate confection laid out, too delicious not to consume once you'd gotten too close.
Andromeda pressed closer. "Show me, then."
They tumbled into bed in the inky darkness, Narcissa barely able to keep her hands off Andromeda long enough to lead the way. Her robes were quickly pushed up around her waist by Narcissa's over-eager hands, but Andromeda undid the buttons unasked and pulled the garment off over her head.
Fingers tangled in Andromeda's hair and pulled her into an open mouthed kiss. Narcissa had shed her robes as well, and her breasts swayed above Andromeda's chest as she hovered over her, an unbearably light weight. Andromeda arched up and was met with petal-soft skin against her own; a moan escaped her throat and hovered in the tiny space between their mouths.
"Oh, Andy," Narcissa crooned. She left a trail of half-kisses down Andromeda's jaw, her throat, the centerline of her chest, the hollow where ribcage met stomach. When her mouth reached Andromeda's navel she paused to dip her tongue into it, eliciting a short gasp. Who ever knew that could feel so good?
Narcissa's hands were sliding restlessly along Andromeda's skin, and she seemed to still them only with difficulty. "Remember what I'm about to do, Andy," she said. "If you're good, I'll let you do the same to me."
The warmth of her sister's hands on her sides made it hard to concentrate, but it also emboldened Andromeda. "And what should I do to be good?"
"Respond," said Narcissa. "I've heard your bed springs creaking at night more times than I can count, but I've never heard you. There's no reason to keep it secret now; it's just you and me,. If something feels good, make me know. Can you do that?"
I wasn't the only one who listened through the wall. The revelation sent a visceral thrill through Andromeda's body, and Narcissa had to repeat the question.
"Yes, yes, I can." And then, "I like thinking about you listening to me."
Narcissa hummed her approval.
The bed creaked as Narcissa shifted, and then hands were on Andromeda's thighs, urging her legs further apart. She complied, heart in her mouth at what Narcissa was surely about to do. A puff of warm air was the only warning she got before Narcissa's mouth descended on her crotch. She started licking, slowly; Andromeda moaned. She had been given the easiest task in the world; as Narcissa expertly worked her tongue over Andromeda's folds she doubted whether she would have been able to stay quiet if she had been ordered to.
"Fuck, Cissa... feels so good."
The tip of Narcissa's tongue circled Andromeda's clit and there was suction, and fingers that dug deep into the muscles of her arse, holding her still. Soon Andromeda was making little sounds of want, need, pleasure, with every exhalation. She wanted to say that Narcissa's mouth on her cunt felt like nothing she'd ever known before, but she couldn't find the words. Instead she arched herself up into Narcissa's face, and Narcissa took this for the signal it was, and within a matter of heartbeats – minutes – a timeless age – the pleasure reached a crescendo and Andromeda was reduced to a keening ball of nerves. All her sensation focused down to one point – it might have been the tip of Narcissa's tongue or her own flesh; she couldn't tell – and then it was as if something exploded, radiating in lines of light from her center.
When she came back to herself Narcissa was lying beside her, tracing lines on the plane of her stomach, crooning meaningless strings of words. Her hands were woefully far from the meeting of Andromeda's legs, where the aftershocks were still shaking. Andromeda realized that she wanted her back down there, now.
"You were so good – so responsive – beautiful," Narcissa said.
Andromeda opened her mouth to speak, perhaps to ask for more, if she dared.
"It's your turn now." Narcissa's voice was low as she sat up and pulled Andromeda with her. "Think you can remember enough to do it to me now?"
"Of course," Andromeda said, automatically.
When Narcissa lay down Andromeda lost track of her for a second in the inky dark. She found the meeting of her sister's legs by feel.
The smell of her was heady this close up; Andromeda was almost nervous to dart her tongue out and taste her, but she did, because she must; Narcissa had told her to and she had no choice. The taste of her was incomprehensible, as was the feel of her delicate tissues. The hows and whys of Narcissa allowing herself to be so vulnerable like this were beyond Andromeda's grasp.
If Andromeda was responsive, then Narcissa was wild.
Andromeda soon learned it did no good to be tentative. Narcissa sank her hands into Andromeda's hair, fingernails scraping against her scalp, and guided her. Andromeda was glad for it, and for the steady stream of words that poured from Narcissa's mouth – harder, good, like that, down more, just the tip, Andy, the tip, yes, yes, good, softer, harder, there...
Soon, the only word was oh, over and over, ascending in piercing exhalations that hardly had any word in them at all. Narcissa writhed and shuddered and clutched at whatever part of Andromeda she could reach. Andromeda didn't dare pin the thrashing hips down and hold her still as Narcissa had done. It didn't matter if Andromeda could hear strands snapping when Narcissa tugged her hair, or if her nails left burning tracks as she scrabbled at Andromeda's shoulders – it terrifying, and awesome, and better than any other feeling, because it was Andromeda who was doing this, making her come apart like this, who Narcissa had trusted to give her pleasure this great.
Andromeda could feel, in the curl of her tongue, the very moment Narcissa lost the final scrap of control, her muscles spasming, Narcissa's voice sailing so high she lost control of that, too. Andromeda rode her out until the last contraction had subsided, wringing out the last drops of bliss she could with lips and tongue and teeth.
For a few minutes there was only the sound of their breathing, then the bed dipped and Andromeda was pulled into a bruising kiss.
"Merlin, Andy. Fuck. That was brilliant. With a little practice you could be perfect."
A flash of heat rushed through Andromeda's groin; it was like her arousal had been growing this entire time and she only now had the chance to notice it. Andromeda kissed Narcissa back, and grinned into the kiss.
"I need –" Narcissa said, but Andromeda covered her mouth, not ready to be done. She could kiss her like this forever, probably.
In the next instant Andromeda was flipped flat on her back, Narcissa's fingers spreading her folds. There was her mouth again, too, but this was not deliberate like the first time; it was fast and rough, as though Narcissa were hungry for it – for her. Andromeda mewled and thrashed and panted at this onslaught to her nerves, and knew it wouldn't be long before she came. Narcissa slipped a finger inside her and twisted it, pulling a guttural cry from deep within Andromeda. So close. So close. If Narcissa did that one more time, she would come...
Inexplicably, Narcissa's head lifted, the warmth of her mouth suddenly gone.
"How's that feel?" she asked, her voice throaty. That finger stroked Andromeda's inner walls, pumped inexorably in and out as though its owner had no knowledge of its movement.
"Don't stop... gonna come..."
"Not until I say so, you aren't," Narcissa said.
"Fuck," Andromeda moaned. Not until she said so...
"If you want." Narcissa squeezed a second fingertip in next to the first, but two fingers didn't fit, Andromeda knew that; she felt stretched, there was no way – the fingers wiggled a bit and scissored, hard. An exquisite pain blossomed in Andromeda's center, and she curled toward it instinctively and cried out, sharply.
"No?" Narcissa's fingers had stilled now.
"No – just – use your mouth, please."
"But I want to do it this way." Narcissa twisted her fingers slowly, and there was still pain, but beyond it, there was something like pleasure in the dull burn. "You don't even realize why, do you..."
Andromeda squirmed. How much of this could she take? How much could she stand before she came, unbidden?
"Fuck, Andy, you're perfect. I want to be your first. No one else, just me."
"Yes," Andromeda hissed.
"No matter who else you're with later, I'll always have that part of you, always."
"Yes."
"You'll be mine."
"Yes."
If Andromeda had heard sweeter words in her life, she didn't know what they were. Narcissa's fingers had started moving again, and Andromeda had hardly noticed. It started to feel good. Especially when she teased around the entrance, just so, or when she sheathed the digits again and curled them up, in that way that made sparks go rushing up Andromeda's spine.
She brought Andromeda back to the brink of orgasm again, just like that, and then eased off, and Andromeda cried out in protest.
"What happened to your patience?" Narcissa chuckled. She stroked her thigh with wet fingers and Andromeda whined.
"Please, Cissa..."
"You're so beautiful like this," Narcissa said. "So wanton, completely at my mercy... do you want me to let you come now?"
"Yes!"
"Then ask me." Narcissa's hands were flitting about Andromeda's legs, her waist, pausing over her hip bones, so far from where she wanted them...
"Please," she gasped.
Narcissa's lips brushed against Andromeda's nether lips, wicked and tantalizing. "That's not how you ask, Andy."
"Let me come," Andromeda breathed. "Please."
"Better."
She brought her to the very edge, then, slowly, working up and backing off in tiny steps, ratcheting up Andromeda's arousal until she felt she should have come long ago; the heat pooled in her center couldn't possibly still be growing, still without release. Narcissa kept her balanced on that knife's edge impossibly long, until all conscious thoughts were driven from her head, and then even all need, until she simply was. There was nothing else.
"Come for me now," Narcissa whispered, and Andromeda's orgasm spiraled out of control, carrying her away utterly. Lights might have flashed behind her eyelids, but she wasn't sure if she had eyes anymore, or hands or feet – all she could feel was the white heat coursing through her, and from somewhere far away, Narcissa's fingers, fucking her hard, egging it on.
When the rush finally drained away, Andromeda was left panting, spread out boneless on the quilt, the sweat already cooling on her skin. She was already coming back to herself, and it felt like a loss. She wanted that endless, thoughtless moment back. It was perfect, she thought, I was Narcissa's.
"I can't believe you, Andy," Narcissa sighed. She pulled the covers over them both and settled close to Andromeda's side. "Forget what I said earlier about other people; you're all mine."
"All yours," Andromeda agreed, and let her mind drift, tried to find that place where everything was easy. I belong here, she told herself. I'm hers.