Title: Sisterly Love

Rating: NC-17

Pairing(s): Bellatrix/Narcissa

Summary: Bellatrix is displeased when she hears of her sister's impending marriage to Lucius Malfoy.

Warnings: Incest, unsafe BDSM-type practices

Word Count: ~1 950

Author's Notes: Written for scarletladyy, for Femmefest (a femmeslash-based gift exchange) on Livejournal.


"How can you marry him?" Bellatrix demanded shrilly.

Narcissa shrunk away from the anger in her sister's voice. She had expected condolences when she told her that she had been betrothed Lucius Malfoy, a tearful and possessive embrace and assurances that nothing would have to change, but really, she should have guessed that Bellatrix would react only with anger.

"He doesn't even love you!" she continued. Her face was quite crimson with anger. "This is just– just a political alliance to him, for God's sake!"

Narcissa tried to speak. "Mother said to–"

"Damn what Mother says!"

"You're married to Rodolphus…"

"It isn't the same thing," Bellatrix hissed. She grabbed her little sister and shook her hard. "Rodolphus doesn't give a damn what I do – Lucius would! Don't you see? You'd have to leave me! Have to go off and live in Malfoy bloody Manor! We'd never be able to be together anymore… we'd never get to…" She trailed off, her voice going quiet and her hand travelling slowly down to stroke Narcissa's waist.

"We would still see each other," Narcissa said in a tiny voice. "Lucius and I would come over for parties, and–"

"And what?" Bellatrix hissed. "You think you'd be able to get away from Lucius long enough for us to enjoy ourselves? He'd pay attention to his pretty little trophy wife, you know… wouldn't let her slip away with her sister… and it isn't as though he'd be away on business all the time like Rodolphus is either."

"Stop it, Bella," Narcissa whispered, her eyes on the ground. "You aren't being fair."

"Oh, aren't I?" Bellatrix's voice rose again. "I'm not being fair?"

"No. This isn't my fault." Narcissa was trembling, but she raised her chin, looking up and meeting Bellatrix's eyes. "I don't want to get married, but I can't very well tell Mother that, can I? Believe me, if I knew how to get out of this…"

"You're pathetic, Cissy," Bellatrix said, but her voice had softened a little. She was quiet for a moment, then said, "When will the wedding be?"


Bellatrix chewed on her lower lip, pondering. Narcissa waited breathlessly. At last, Bellatrix whispered, "Come down to the cellar tonight, Cissy…"


"Down to the cellar. I'll be there…" Her hand had moved to the small of Narcissa's back now, and she leaned in to breathe in her ear. "We'll get to… be together… once more. If I have to give you up, I'm going to enjoy you while I still can…"


Narcissa's heart was pounding as she crept downstairs that night. She paused at her parents' door to be sure they were asleep, and peeped into Bellatrix's room to find it empty. She felt almost lightheaded, terrified of making a single sound.

"Bella?" she whispered, opening the door to the cellar.

No answer.

She held her breath, quietly closing the door and tiptoeing down the rickety stairs to the basement of Black Manor. "Bella? Bella?"

"Shut up."

Bellatrix's familiar voice pierced the silence, and Narcissa sighed with relief, though the words were harsh. She felt a tingle of excitement between her legs, her mind already running wild with mad ideas about what Bellatrix would do to her…

"I came down, Bella, just like you said," she told her, making her voice high and girlish. "What do you want me for?"

"Shut up, Cissy." Bellatrix's voice dripped derision. "You're pathetic." Narcissa could almost hear her sister's smirk. "Of course… by the time I'm done… you'll be far… far past pathetic."

"What do you mean, Bella?" Narcissa asked, still in her purposefully high, innocent little voice.

"I mean…"

Bellatrix fell silent, and then whispered "Lumos". A light flared, illuminating the cellar.

"I just mean," breathed Bellatrix, setting down her wand and stepping forward, "that I'll have you begging… like the little whore you are… begging for me like you'll never beg for Malfoy."

"Really, Bella?" Narcissa asked, a little breathlessly. "Will you? How?"

"Oh, but I can't tell you… that would just ruin the surprise, now, wouldn't it?" Bellatrix had adopted an odd little mock-baby voice to taunt her sister. "So come on, then… why don't you guess?"

"I guess…" Narcissa whispered breathlessly, "that you're going to hurt me, aren't you?"

"Quite so, Cissy…" Bellatrix almost sounded proud of her little sister for figuring that. "Now take off that pretty little night-dress… we don't want it getting dirty now, do we? If it did, then Mummy might know what her daughters were doing…"

Narcissa pulled off her nightdress immediately, carefully folding it at the foot of the steps and standing up straight and tall. She was skinny, with only the barest hints of breasts and hips, and standing stark-naked before her sister gave her an odd little thrill that even the usual rituals of shared pleasure between them couldn't bring.

"You're so pretty, Cissy," Bellatrix purred. "It's so dreadfully unfair that Lucius will get to have you… such a pretty body shouldn't be wasted on someone like him."

"Am I good enough for you, then, Bella?"

"Oh, more than, darling, more than…" Bellatrix reached forward, tweaking one of Narcissa's firm, rosy nipples. "You're so little… you look so young…"

Narcissa bowed her head a little, looking up through fluttering, pale lashes. "Do you like that, Bella?"

"Oh, so much…" Bellatrix murmured. "Especially when I know you're not one bit as pure as you'd like people to think. You like looking so innocent and virginal, but inside…"


"Shh…" Bellatrix pressed a finger to Narcissa's lips. "Inside, you're a dirty little slut," she purred in her ear. "And I love you for that."

Narcissa's knees weakened. "Bella…" she murmured against her finger. "I want you…"

"I know you do." Bellatrix pulled back and stepped away, smirking. "And I'll bet you want it to be all sweet and tender, don't you?"

"No, Bella, not unless you do," was Narcissa's immediate and automatic response.

"Good girl…" Bellatrix's hand moved slowly to rest on Narcissa's waist, dragging her fingers over her prominent ribs, and her lips brushed Narcissa's throat. "You're my good little girl, aren't you?"

"Yes, Bella."

"That's right… a good little slut for me…"

Bellatrix seemed to be enjoying herself, but this drawn-out shaming felt awkward to Narcissa, and despite her assurances that all she would do whatever Bellatrix wanted, she was eager to move on to tender and sweet portions of lovemaking, skipping the rough and uncomfortable acts that Bellatrix favoured.

"What are you thinking, Cissy?" Bellatrix breathed in her ear. In the slight light, Narcissa saw her sister pick up Narcissa's wand and flick it through the air, and Narcissa squeaked. Her wrists were yanked up above her head, and Narcissa struggled against invisible bonds that held her arms up.

"Bella, please let me go," Narcissa whimpered, trying to yank at them.

"Don't bother," said Bellatrix, sounding almost bored. "They aren't going to give… and no, I'm not going to let you go… not yet, at any rate."

Narcissa bit her lip hard, knowing better than to be defiant when her sister had her in this position. Her heart hammered and her naked breast heaved in panic mixed with excitement – because despite everything, it was exciting, because it was her sister doing this to her.

Bellatrix sank to her knees, slowly stroking Narcissa's pale thighs. She laid kisses along them, finally flicking out her tongue and licking Narcissa lightly, tasting her. Narcissa's breath caught and a shiver ran through her body. Her knees weakened – she was glad now for the spell that held her upright by her wrists, for without it, she would surely have collapsed then.


"Shut up, Cissy."

Bellatrix put one hand beneath Narcissa's thigh, lifting it slightly, and resting it over her shoulder, and Narcissa bit her lips hard to stop herself from crying out when her sister's face pressed between her legs. She squirmed against her.

Bellatrix's tongue slid along her slit and Narcissa closed her eyes, head tipping back in pleasure. She swayed on her one foot, wrapping the other tightly around Bellatrix.

"Little whore," Bellatrix murmured against her.

The vibrations of her voice made Narcissa shake. She bit back breathless moans, thrusting against her sister's face.

Bellatrix pulled back. She was smirking, and wetness already streaked her cheeks and mouth.

"That's a good girl," she murmured. "You see how much better I am than Lucius?"

Narcissa could do nothing but whimper and nod.


"You look beautiful, Cissy," Bellatrix told her, almost tenderly. "The dress suits you."

"I hate it," Narcissa said dully. She was standing in front of the full-length mirror in the church's antechamber, staring blankly at her own reflection. She did look beautiful, she did not and would not deny that, with her pale hair crimped into delicate ringlets and pulled into a knot, her veil, so fine and light that her breath made it flutter, fastened to her head with a circlet of white roses and her gown, all flowing powder-blue silk and crisp, snowy lace and pearls swirling about her every time she moved. She looked pure, sweet, angelic.

But she didn't want to be pure or sweet or angelic. She wanted to be Bella's girl, Bella's dirty girl, the way that Bella said.

Bellatrix, hovering half a step behind Narcissa, couldn't have looked more different. Where Narcissa was the perfect virgin bride, Bellatrix, her matron of honour, looked dark and sensual and sinful. Her black curls were pulled haphazardly atop her head in a wreathe of red rosebuds. Her burgundy gown clung to her breasts and waist, flowing freely over her hips and swirling down, whispering against the floor. Her lips were lushly rouged, painted a crimson that Narcissa would never have been allowed to wear.

"I know, Cissy," Bellatrix sighed. "Nothing to be done, though…"

"I hate it," Narcissa repeated. She sounded like a petulant child, she knew, but that was how she felt.

"I hated my wedding dress too," said Bellatrix. "I ripped it apart, remember?"

Narcissa's hands moved almost unconsciously to the lace of her own dress. She didn't realise what she was doing until Bellatrix stilled her hands.

"Mother would kill us both," she said with a sigh.

"I don't care," Narcissa told her. "I wish I were dead– ouch!" Bellatrix had just slapped her hard across her face.

"Don't ever say that again!" Bellatrix hissed. Her voice was full of venom, so much so that it brought tears of fear to Narcissa's eyes. "You don't want to be dead. Don't you dare say you do!"

Narcissa cowered, putting her hands up and trying to shield her face. "I'm sorry, Bella! I didn't mean–"

"You don't know what it would do to me if you died…" Bellatrix whispered. "I'd bloody kill myself…"

"Why? You're losing me anyhow."

Bellatrix slapped Narcissa again, but not quite so hard this time, then grabbed her by her shoulders and kissed her deeply. Narcissa clung to her sister as though she would never let go. She never wanted to let go.

"I love you," Narcissa whimpered against her sister's mouth.

Bellatrix did not reply. From the sanctuary, organ music began to play, and Bellatrix drew back, picking up her bouquet from the dressing table at the side of the room.

Narcissa sighed. She would have been mad to expect an equally tender declaration of love from her sister, but as it was…

She gathered up her flowers, and lifted her veil to drop it over her face. In the instant before it fell, looking at herself in the mirror, Narcissa could just see the blush of colour her sister's lipstick had left upon her mouth.

Then the veil fluttered down, and all colour was bleached from Narcissa's face, leaving only the pale, porcelain silhouette of a girl that would suit Lucius Malfoy.