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Sisterly Love	By : Padfoot Category: Harry Potter > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 6721 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Sisterly Love
- 1
Pairing: Bellatrix/Narcissa

Rating: R

Summary: She was her sister; the same blood ran through their veins. Bellatrix was her love, her life, her very being; she could never be replaced, not by any man. (Bellatrix/Narcissa) FEMMESLASH. INCEST.

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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Sisterly Love

She felt warm and sweaty. She also felt a yearning, yet she didn’t know what she was yearning for. She had not known one could yearn for something while not knowing what it was. The yearning intensified. She felt like screaming at whatever it was inside of her to stop its torment, because she simply didn’t know what it wanted from her. Because that was what it was; torment. If she were parched, she would need water, if she were starved, food, yet she couldn’t pinpoint what it was her body needed in this case.

Suddenly she felt every single muscle in her body tightening. Blackness surrounded her as her body was bathed in warmth and sparks of bright light erupted behind her shut eyelids. Then the sparks died away, the light came back and she regained control over her body again. She realised she need not look further; her body had found the nourishment it had been looking for.

“What was that?”

         “I don’t know,” Narcissa panted, looking at her sister who was casting her a look in-between question and amusement.

            “Cissy, are you crying?” Bellatrix asked concernedly, crawling up the bed and laying herself next to her sister.

         “No,” Narcissa said, caressing the wetness on her cheeks away, which she had only just realised were there. “I mean yes, but I didn’t mean to. That’d never before happened to you, has it?”

“I don’t think so. Did it feel good?” Bellatrix asked.

         “Definitely,” Narcissa said in earnest. She was amazed at how, right after several moments of seemingly terrible anguish, she could suddenly feel so good.

         “What did it feel like?”

         Narcissa thought for a second, trying to find words to express what she had just felt.

         “As if something had suddenly awakened inside of me,” she said in a whisper. “Something beautiful. It felt as if my body was singing.”

         “What kind of music was it singing?” Bellatrix asked.

         “Opera,” Narcissa said. “Definitely opera. A soprano.”

         Bellatrix nodded, letting the information sink in for a few moments.

         “Cissy?”

         “Yes.”

         “Can you make my body sing?” Bellatrix asked.

         “I can try,” Narcissa smiled.

Narcissa closed her eyes, trying to push the distant memory away. This wasn’t a time to dwell on things long gone. Still, as she urgently strutted though the halls of Malfoy manor with her exquisite robes billowing behind her, Narcissa couldn’t help but recall that she hadn’t been able to make her sister’s body sing that night, nor the night after that. It had taken several weeks of experimenting until she had felt Bella’s body clamp up with Narcissa’s head in-between her thighs. She didn’t remember how old she had been in that memory, but she knew they had been young, since neither of them had been old enough to attend Hogwarts.

Narcissa put on her travelling cloak, and pulled up the hood, covering her long sheet of white-blonde hair and part of her beautiful face. Even though she had well passed the bridge of forty, Narcissa was still a strikingly beautiful woman; the Black genes had made sure of that. She’d probably still be able to make heads turn for years to come, even if she wasn’t as young as she once had been. She was grown up now, a 42-year-old married woman with a son who was almost of age. Sometimes she forgot that she wasn’t a young girl anymore, but when she looked in the mirror the little lines at the outer edges of her eyes made her remember.

More often than before did Narcissa’s mind dwell to distant memories, to a time long ago. A time when she was only a child, the war was something for grownups to deal with and the only thing she had had to worry about was her sister Bellatrix’s persistence in hogging the bedcovers. The Black-manor had had a vast amount of unoccupied chambers and bedrooms, yet the two sisters had slept in the same bed. Ever since Bellatrix had crawled into her sister’s bed to seek warmth on a cold winter night, when she had been five years old and Narcissa four, they had refused to sleep in separate beds.

As far as Narcissa was concerned, there had only been one person she had shared her bed with and that had been her husband. Some people might call the acts she and her sister had engaged in as sexual, and thus taboo, but she thought that to be preposterous. One simply doesn’t have sex with ones relatives. Perhaps it was because they had been doing this from a very young age, an age before those pesky hormones kick in and start complicating things, it had felt so innocent and sexless to them.

Merely a year separating them in age, they had been as close to twins as two siblings could be. They’d even looked tremendously alike, except in colour; Narcissa had silvery blond hair and pale blue eyes, Bellatrix’s eyes were black, as was her hair. Both of them possessed an equal amount of the trademark good looks that had blessed the Black family bloodline. Already, at a very early age, both sisters had been very aware that their good looks were something very useful to get their way. Friends of their parents and family members doted on both of them, especially when the two were together.

When Andromeda was born, the two siblings had discovered they had to share the attention they had grown accustomed to having for their own. Even though Narcissa would never be able to reconcile with the choices Andromeda had made later in life, she was glad for the part her youngest sister had played in her relationship with Bellatrix. If it hadn’t been for their baby sister, they probably would never have grown to be as close as they had.

Narcissa had only been eight years old when her sister had pulled her into their room to show her ‘something neat’. Narcissa had questioningly followed her sister’s instructions to take off knickers off and straddle her pillow, but Bellatrix’ uncharacteristic enthusiasm had won her over.

“Well?” Narcissa asked, now sitting on her pillow and quite interested in whatever it was her sister had been so exited about.

“Well, you have to move!” Bellatrix huffed, rolling her eyes. “Like this,” she said, grasping her sister’s hips to move her pelvis back and forth over the pillow.

         When Bellatrix let go, Narcissa resumed the movements, wondering what was supposed to happen.

         “Nothing’s happening,” she complained, getting tired of this exercise.

         “Shh!” Bellatrix huffed.

         “But-”

         “I said: shh!”

         Narcissa rolled her eyes, but still kept on rocking her hips against the pillow. She had been certain nothing was going to happen, until suddenly she let out an involuntary gasp and looked down at her crotch.

         “Told you,” Bellatrix said smugly.

            If she had known how important this event would be in influencing her personality and the further course of her life, Narcissa would surely have been too intimidated to explore it any further. But at the time, Narcissa had been too preoccupied with the warm, tingly sensations she had never felt before.

It hadn’t taken either of the two sisters long to start probing around in-between their legs, discovering that their fingers, when used properly, could produce the same feelings their pillows did. They had been grateful for that discovery, since they both had realised they couldn’t go on mucking up their pillows with their juices. They hadn’t been able to figure out what the wetness was for, but neither of them minded it since it created the funniest squishy noises when playing around in it with their fingers.

While Narcissa had initially felt a bit hesitant in the exploration of her own body, Bellatrix had not. Bellatrix liked to be the superior in any situation and had often pulled her sister’s self-exploring hands away to replace them with her own. Narcissa had been surprised when one time she had felt her sister pushing a finger inside of her. Sure, it had felt good, but she had been slightly bowled over by the action since she had never before realised there was another hole down there apart from her bum. She supposed that wasn’t all that surprising, since before discovering its pleasurable use it really didn’t seem to have any use.

Looking back, Narcissa thought she ought to have been a bit more taken aback about her sexual awakening, but perhaps it was their youthful innocence that had made everything so simple. They had had no idea what they were doing. They hadn’t even known what sex was, so how could they have known that what they were doing was taboo. All they knew was that they had found another use for their body, one they had found intriguing and had wanted to explore.

Even though they hadn’t seen anything wrong with their late-night adventures, they’d never told anyone else about it. It was their secret and secrets were fun. Once they had discovered the ability of getting orgasms, (a term they learned years later) they made a game out of it, like one sister teasing the other at the dinner table with feet or fingers. Narcissa hated Bellatrix’ ability to climax without anyone noticing; she simply closed her eyes and didn’t move an inch. Narcissa hadn’t been able to understand how she managed it. Whenever Narcissa reached her climax, she couldn’t control what her body did or if she screamed or not. Ever since her parents had made a big fuss about that strange ‘seizure’ Narcissa had at the dinner table, she tended to excuse herself when she felt she was about to come, go to the bathroom to get herself off and then return to the table. She just put up with Bellatrix calling her a spoilsport.

Life had seemed like a never-ending game. Narcissa had quickly learned that it wasn’t when she felt the dreaded month of September approaching; the month her sister had left for Hogwarts.

         Bellatrix let out an ear-piercing shriek when Narcissa pressed her down into the bed, her lips descending down to her neck and she harshly sucked the skin into her mouth.

         “There,” Narcissa said triumphantly, proudly looking down at the love-bite on her sister’s neck.



         “What did you do that for?” Bellatrix asked indignantly, rubbing the sore spot on her neck.

         “Marking you, so you won't forget me.”

         “You’re my sister, I won’t forget you.”

         “Do you have to go?” Narcissa asked sorrowfully.

         “Have to, yes. Want to, no,” Bellatrixanswered, “But I’ll be back before you know it. And next year it’s your turn.”

         “It won’t be the same,” Narcissa pouted.

            “I know,” Bellatrix sighed.

         It hadn’t been the same; just as they both knew it wouldn’t be. Narcissa had cursed the fact that if she had only been two months older, she could have gone to Hogwarts with her sister. But she wasn’t, so she had found herself alone for the better part of a year. When Bellatrix had returned for the winter holidays she had been alive with tales of what she had seen at school, what she had learned, who she had met and what she had experienced. Narcissa had listened to her with rapt interest, but inside she felt angry. She knew it wasn’t Bella’s fault, but she still felt resentful that her sister had gone off to see a world she wouldn’t get to know for another year. Not that she had wanted to be part of that world so badly; she simply hadn’t wanted to be left behind.

         When Bellatrix had returned for the summer holidays, Narcissa noted that this time her sister had changed in more ways than before; her body had changed too. Over the few months since Narcissa had last seen her, Bellatrix had started developing breasts and had even started to get a light dusting of pubic hair. Not that Narcissa had disliked the change in her sister’s appearance; she just hadn’t liked the fact that she hadn’t been there to experience it. She had comforted herself with the idea that she wouldn’t have to miss any more of it. The following school year, Narcissa followed her sister to Hogwarts and, as far as she knew, would never have to be separated from her again.

         The first few years at Hogwarts now seemed like a blur to her, but one thing Narcissa hadn’t forgotten was that it had been one of the best times of her life. She had been able to see and experience new things, learn magic, meet new people, but best of all; she had been with her sister once again. Narcissa couldn’t remember how many times she had snuck into her sister’s dorm room at night and snuggled against her in bed; slowly undressing each other, touching, caressing, and quiet lovemaking while the others slept.

Most people seemed to look back on their puberty with dread and mortification, but Narcissa remembered that time with great fondness. She still remembered the resentful glare her sister had given her when Narcissa had started her period before she had. She also possessed a vivid mental picture of watching her sister struggle with her first training bra, until Narcissa had taken pity on her and had helped her out. Narcissa had loved playing with her sister’s breasts, watching them enlarge as time went by until they spilled from under Narcissa’s fingers. Bellatrix had often expressed that she’d rather have Cissy’s perky little breasts, a modest B-cup, since they made it difficult for her to find clothes that fit her properly. Even so, Narcissa had always hoped she’d still have to do some catching up with her sister, development-wise, but to her disappointment she never got to have a voluptuous bosom like her sister.

It was only when Narcissa had entered her fifth year she had started to associate the affections she shared with Bellatrix as sexual acts. She hadn’t understood at first. Ever since her first sex-ed class, she had learned that two people are having sexual intercourse when a male’s penis was inserted in a woman’s vagina. Narcissa had been attending sex-education since third year, but never had the information she received there given her any indication that sex could happen between two people of the same gender and/or of the same family. She had always assumed that, for her to be having sex there would have to be a man involved, a belief that seemed to be false. The days that followed having received this information, she hadn’t visited her sister’s bed at night. Narcissa hadn’t known how to feel about it all. She would have to be marrying a man one day, a fellow pureblood, to whom she would prove herself a worthy wife by giving him her virginity. Would her so-called virtue have been a lie if she had already given herself to her sister? Did it count if her hymen was still intact?

When this information had sufficiently sunk in, Narcissa had decided that she didn’t care. It was her sister, her family. Whatever manner in which Bella touched her, it shouldn’t be taboo; they shared a love, different than a love between a man and a woman, but one definitely no less strong. Friends and lovers come and go, but a bond between family members is unbreakable, so if anyone should be allowed to ‘make love’, it should be two siblings.

The majority of Narcissa’s most treasured memories included her and her sister, but one of them didn’t and couldn’t help but make her smile whenever she remembered; the first time she had kissed a boy. This was a bit peculiar since the memory seemed far from memorable. Their noses had kept bumping against each other, their teeth had been scraping, his mouth had been open too wide and his tongue had darted too quick and too far inside her mouth. Even at the young age of fifteen, Lucius was already accomplished at a great many things, but kissing hadn’t been one of them.

Narcissa and her sister had often kissed each other on the lips and had even played with each other’s tongues. But where Bellatrix and her would softly lick, suck and nibble, Lucius had seemed more intent on trying to find out what she had had for breakfast. He hadn’t been very good at kissing, yet she hadn’t complained. He had been young and inexperienced; he could learn.

“Has he gotten any better?” Bellatrix asked slyly as she slowly unbuttoned Narcissa’s shirt.

“Be quiet you!” Narcissa scolded. She didn’t like her sister having a laugh at Lucius’ expense, as she had told her a dozen times.

Bellatrix tilted her head and captured Narcissa’s lips with her own. Her lips were soft, welcoming and tasted like cherries. Narcissa felt her mouth being coaxed open and she eagerly responded to her sister’s plea by opening her mouth and letting Bella’s tongue play with hers. Narcissa loved kissing her sister. Even though Lucius’ technique had improved, his kisses were still rough and demanding, unlike Bella’s, which were soft and gentle. It wasn’t that she disliked kissing him; it was just different, less familiar. Narcissa sighed with loss when Bella pulled back from the kiss.

“Has he ever touched you like I do?” Bella asked as she caressed Narcissa’s bra strap off her shoulder, baring her left breast. “Has he ever touched you here?” she said as she lightly squeezed her sister’s breast.

Narcissa didn’t answer, just merely shook her head in denial. She knew what her sister was up to. Narcissa would never accuse Bellatrix of being jealous, nor did she plan to, but ever since Narcissa had started going out with Lucius, Bella had seemed to need proof that her sister was still hers. Narcissa accepted this and so she would let Bella claim her when she felt the need to. In contradiction to Narcissa, Bellatrix hadn’t yet found a pure-blooded man she had set her sights on marrying one day, so the balance in their relationship had shifted. In that light, she couldn’t blame Bella for reclaiming her from time to time, even though it was redundant. Bellatrix was her sister; the same blood ran through their veins. She was her love, her life, her very being; she could never be replaced, not by any man.

She let Bellatrix undress her, push her down upon the bed and lick the little nub in-between her legs. Narcissa breathed heavily as Bella licked her pussy and fucked her with her fingers. She felt Bella pushing in further than she usually did, thrusting against her virgin-barrier.

“Do you think me a liar?” Narcissa asked, arching a brow questioningly.

“Do you think me a fool?” Bellatrix retorted. “Lucius is a man, Cissy. A man you one day intend to marry. What if he were to tell you tomorrow to spread those pretty legs of yours so he can give you a good fuck? Would you refuse at the risk of him leaving you for another?”

“What if he did?” Narcissa scowled. “What if I did spread my legs for him? What would you do if tomorrow you’d fuck me with your fingers and wouldn’t find the obstruction you feel now?”

Bellatrix didn’t answer, but simply looked at Narcissa with a cold stare. She then buried her head in-between Narcissa’s thighs and licked her pussy while her fingers kept on pumping in and out her slick channel. Narcissa simply lay there, let her sister do what she needed to do, until orgasm overpowered her, washed over her and her body collapsed against the bed.

“I wish they were longer,” Bella said, lying down next to her, looking at her juice-covered fingers. “I wish I could have that part of you only a man will one day be able to claim.”

“I know, Bella,” Narcissa sighed, kissing her sister and caressing her pretty face. “I know.”

It had taken until her wedding night for Narcissa to give up that part of her. There had been opportunities for her to give herself to Lucius sooner, but she had always declined. She wouldn’t have been able to bear the look on her sister’s face when she discovered what she had done, and discover she surely would.

When Narcissa and her sister had pleasured each other, it had been like a dance. Every movement would be graceful, every touch exquisite and every sound a delight to hear. In her naivety, Narcissa had assumed it would have been the same with Lucius, which it hadn’t been. She hadn’t screamed when he had penetrated her and ruptured her maidenhood, even though it did hurt enough to shout bloody murder. As he had been pounding, shoving, and grunting on top of her, all she could think about was that she then understood the use for that strange wetness she and her sister had always wondered about. She had decided she really ought to inform Bellatrix about this. It hadn’t taken long before Narcissa felt Lucius stiffen and the warmth of his semen shooting inside of her.

         When she had rolled onto her side, Narcissa had made a mental note that the first thing she would teach him was to take off her nightgown before he touched her. He had merely lifted it up, which would not do at all. She liked feeling her naked body against another. All she had to do now was to stop wishing that it were her sister’s body instead of the man she was now married to.

         “Narcissa, what are you doing?”

            “Doing you a favour,” Narcissa said as she lifted up her sister’s gown and snuck her fingers into Bella’s knickers.

         “Not that I don’t appreciate what your doing, dear sis, but don’t you think it’s a little inappropriate to do this at my wedding?”

            “Sister mine, it’s a good thing to expect pain, but not to seek it,” Narcissa said wisely, pressing her thumb against her sister’s clit and circling it.

            “Who says it will go the same way as it had been with you?” Bellatrix retorted, yet she didn’t stop her sister’s ministrations.

            “Let’s hope that it doesn’t.”

         “Did it really hurt that much?” asked Bellatrix, her voice now serious.

         “Shh. Don’t mind that now,” Narcissa said.

         Narcissa stroked and caressed her sister’s pussy trying to get her as wet as she could and stretch her channel as far as possible. She had never seen her sister as beautiful as she did then. Her pale skin flushed with arousal while dressed in an exquisite garment of virginal white. Narcissa felt the tips of her fingers brush against her sister’s virginity and now understood how Bellatrix had felt when they had been on opposite sides. Narcissa felt very possessive about the idea of handing over her sister’s body to an inexperienced man who couldn’t possibly know what to do with it. Sadly, she had to. She had to let Bella go as Bella had let her go, but she was still her sister and Narcissa would not let her undergo unnecessary pain if she could help it. Narcissa held her close as Bella’s body convulsed around her fingers. After Bella had come down from her orgasm, they kissed, embraced, and parted ways.

         Hugging herself, Narcissa suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness. They really were separated now; both had different last names, belonged to different families and lived in different houses. Things would never be the same again.

         “Thinking of our wedding day, are you?”

         Narcissa turned to face her husband and smiled, trying to pass off the tears leaking down her cheeks as tears of happiness.

         “That was a good day,” she said reminiscently as Lucius took her hand and kissed her palm. Over the top of her husband’s shoulder, she watched Bellatrix take Rodolphus’ arm and lead him up to the bridal suite, a painful prang erupting from her heart.

         Narcissa hadn’t understood why her sister had chosen Rodolphus Lestrange as her husband. He wasn’t handsome, graceful or particularly intelligent. Bellatrix was stunningly beautiful and an educated Pureblooded witch of a good family; she could have done much better. From a very early age, both sisters had been aware that marriage to a pureblood wasn’t simply an option, it was duty-bound. Narcissa suspected Bella of choosing Rodolphus as a husband simply to get the fuss of marriage out of the way. They hadn’t courted very long, nor had Narcissa seen her sister head over heals in love. Perhaps Bellatrix had thought she’d never create any romantic interest in anyone, so had decided she would be better off to marry the first eligible bachelor that had come along, instead of waiting for that illusive feeling of love. Narcissa hadn’t doubted Bella’s ability to love. Narcissa had known her sister loved her by the way she looked at her and the way she touched her. At times, she suspected that Bellatrix hadn’t given up on her ability to love, but perhaps she had given up on her ability to love anyone as much as she loved Narcissa. This had only been a suspicion, until that dreaded morning in 1979 that would haunt Narcissa forever.

         “Why? Why did you have to do this!?”

         “I will not be treated as an inferior simply because I’m a woman!” Bellatrix said proudly.

         “And you think that being brand marked like a piece of cattle will prove you’re a man’s equal?” Narcissa retorted.

         “I can’t believe you just said that.”

         “Well, what did you expect? First my husband becomes a Death Eater and now my sister too.”

         “You contribute to our cause in your way,” Bella said, gesturing at Narcissa’s belly, distended with pregnancy. “Just as I will in mine.”

         Narcissa’s arms encircled her tummy and she shot Bellatrix a look she hadn’t imagined she would ever have to use against her.

         “Don’t you dare talk about my child as if it’s a piece of supply to aid the war!” Narcissa growled.

         “No, Cissy, don’t you dare to talk about the war as if it’s some inconvenience disrupting your life,” Bellatrix retorted. “There are bigger things at stake here, so stop being so selfish.”

         “I’m being selfish?” Narcissa said incredulously. “The only reason you’ve become a Death Eater is because you desire wealth and riches. Don’t tell me you’d be out there risking your life if there was nothing to gain!”

         Bellatrix stiffened momentarily at that.

         “Did you accuse your husband of the same thing?” she said cunningly. “Because I didn’t see him trying any less to become The Dark Lord’s most precious pet. I advise you to tell him to grovel a bit deeper in the dirt, because The Dark Lord has gained a new and possibly more loyal servant.”

         Narcissa gasped at that, looking at her sister with incredulity, feeling stupid for not having seen it before.

         “Bella...” Narcissa advanced on her sister and grasped her by the shoulders. “Please, please, tell me you didn’t do this to best Lucius!” she pleaded; her voice soft and her eyes going misty with unshed tears. “Tell me you’re not risking your life out of jealousy for my husband! You’re my sister, you shouldn’t... Please tell me you didn’t... You wouldn’t...!”



         Bellatrix looked away, and that was all the answer Narcissa needed. She grabbed hold of Bella’s arm and rolled up her sleeve, baring the Dark Mark to her view. Such an ugly thing on such a beautiful woman, she thought, what a shame. She lightly touched the mark with her fingers, before looking up and meeting gazes with her sister.

         “This is forever, Bella,” she said.

         “I know,” Bellatrix replied.

After a few moments of simply looking at each other, Narcissa encircled her arms around her sister’s waist and hugged her close. She wanted to smack her, kick her, and tell her how stupid she had been! If Bella died in battle, what would there be left for her? Narcissa would never say this aloud, but if her husband died; she’d mourn, but with the knowledge she could go on. If Bella died, she would never be able to get over that. But for now, she was alive and with a sob, she strengthened her embrace, cherishing the feel of Bella’s body against her own, which at one time she might have to separate with forever.

            During the months that followed, it had seemed like little had changed. The two sisters saw as much of each other as they had before. Bellatrix had been there to massage Narcissa’s back, which was sore from her pregnancy. She had been there to hold her feet while Narcissa did her sit-ups, to strengthen her abs. She had been there to give Narcissa an orgasm when her body craved for it, which it often did during her second term. Bellatrix had also been there to hold Narcissa’s hand as she had given birth to her son. They never spoke of the Dark Mark. Narcissa hadn’t wanted to. She simply hadn’t wanted to think about it.



            Even though not much had changed externally, Narcissa started observing a transformation within her sister. When Bella’s mind was elsewhere and she wasn’t aware her sister was looking, Narcissa at times noticed a strange, new, glint in her dark eyes; one Narcissa didn’t like. Bellatrix might have joined the Death Eaters to prove her worth to her sister by trying to surpass said sister’s husband, but the constant companionship of power-hungry vultures had made her priorities shift towards another place, one that had little to do with Narcissa. Narcissa knew this, but whenever her mind dwelled to such thoughts, she pushed them away, reminding herself that Bellatrix was still the same person she had grown up with, no matter how she would evolve. Narcissa tried to tell herself that it was a good thing for Bellatrix to become her own person, to have passions and desires that had nothing to do with Narcissa and that she was being selfish for wanting Bellatrix all to her own. Even so, Narcissa couldn’t help but think it was better to have Bella’s passions and desires released in the bedchamber than in the war. Bellatrix loved the torturing and to be able to use an Unforgivable without having to account for it. She was able to weasel her way into the Dark Lord’s good graces by always being slightly more than his other servants: slightly more loyal, more trustworthy, more fanatical and more willing to take risks. The more he rewarded her, the more she wanted to be rewarded and always went a bit further to prove her loyalty. This had become poor Bellatrix’s downfall.

         When Narcissa had been informed of her sister’s incarceration and had been condemned to a life-sentence in Azkaban, she hadn’t said a word. She hadn’t screamed, she hadn’t cried, she hadn’t thrown herself in her husband’s arms. She hadn’t said or done anything at all. On the outside, she had been as calm as ever, but on the inside, something had broken. Her sister was gone, forever. What can one say or do in such a situation? She had felt empty and dead inside. Narcissa hadn’t spoken for a long time, living like an emotionless zombie. It had been a struggle to even get up in the morning, but she had done it anyway. If she hadn’t had her son to take care of, she probably wouldn’t have gotten up at all.

She hadn’t said a word for over two months, until one day Draco had looked up at her and his first word spilled from his lips; ‘no’. She had looked at the little boy in front of her, her son, the creation of the love between her and her husband. Narcissa had felt the tears running down her cheeks and before she knew it, she had been sobbing like an infant. She picked up her son, held him tight, and gently started cradling him as if he was the one who was crying and in need of comfort instead of herself. She made a decision then. She wouldn’t let the grief take over. Once she let out a good cry, she brushed the tears away and got on with her life. Her son and husband needed her, she couldn’t disappoint them.

         Narcissa let the washcloth run down her sister’s back. As she cleaned the years of dust and dirt off her sister’s body, Narcissa tried not to cry, but she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Fourteen years. Fourteen long years they had been separated, but no more. What had they done to the young woman she had once known? Narcissa couldn’t suppress a wince at feeling Bellatrix’s ribs bumping against her fingers. A caterpillar should be turning into a beautiful butterfly, not the other way around.

            Bellatrix had always been angelically pale, but now her skin pallor bore the sickly yellowish tint of a person who hadn’t seen daylight for a very long time. Narcissa could count her sister’s ribs without having to squint and the slope of her stomach underneath was simply too deep. Her breasts, which had once been plump and full, bore the signature marks of a person who had lost a lot of weight in a very short time. Due to the swift and significant amount of loss in breast-mass, the skin had gone soggy and her nipples were stretched into an oval shape.

            “Are those sad tears or happy tears?” asked Bellatrix, her voice hoarse from ill use.

            “They’re just tears,” Narcissa sniffed. “Don’t mind them. They have no use or cause for distress, just let them be.”

         After Bellatrix’s breakout from Azkaban, Narcissa had insisted she’d take residence in Malfoy Manor so Narcissa could take care of her. Luckily, Lucius was away a lot, because Narcissa was right in assuming that Bellatrix wouldn’t enjoy her husband’s presence, the old jealousy showing its’ face again. Narcissa had somewhat expected Bellatrix and Draco to get along though; he was a part of Narcissa after all. Not that Bellatrix had been spiteful towards him; she simply hadn’t recognised his presence much. Perhaps this was because he bore such a strong resemblance to Lucius, or perhaps Bellatrix saw him as another competitor for Narcissa’s graces. Even so, Narcissa hadn’t felt like forcing the issue as long as Bellatrix was civil towards him.

As the months passed by, Bellatrix had started to look increasingly like the woman Narcissa recognised as her sister. Bella hadn’t been able to regain her former curves, but good nourishment had made her gaunt face and gangly body fill out to a point where she almost looked healthy. She had started getting her period again, which had stopped after a few months in prison due to malnourishment, and her hair had regained its former health. Even though Narcissa had tried to rescue as much she could, she had been forced to cut Bella’s hair shoulder-length, the rest too damaged and unsalvageable. Her hair had thinned out and a few streaks of grey disturbed the black curtain.

         The two sisters hadn’t touched each other as they used to. Whenever Narcissa so much as hugged her sister, she felt her body stiffen under the intimate contact. Narcissa hadn’t pursued anything further; she wouldn’t try to influence Bellatrix into doing anything she wasn’t ready to do. Bellatrix hadn’t had physical contact for fourteen years and that was bound to leave mental scars. If Bellatrix craved the intimacy they once shared, Narcissa would be there for her.

            The bathroom door closed with a soft ‘click’ and Narcissa turned her head to face her sister, who was leaning against the closed door.

            “Do you remember how we used to share baths when we were children?” Bellatrix asked reminiscently.

         Narcissa smiled, her mind filling with memories of water splashing around as they played in the tub, high-pitched giggles as one of them had dropped the soap and they to try to find it before it dissolved, and how much fun it had been to kiss under water while trying to last without oxygen as long as they could.

         “I do. I also remember us putting that habit into use again during our last few years at Hogwarts, once you had become Slytherin Prefect and had access to the private bathroom,” Narcissa smiled. “Do you feel like revisiting those happy times?” she asked, reaching her hand out to her sister.

         Once Bellatrix had hesitantly taken her hand, Narcissa stood up so she could undress her sister.

“You look the same,” Bellatrix said, looking down at Narcissa’s naked form as she was being undressed.

“I suppose, not including a few crow’s-feet here and there,” Narcissa replied.

         Bellatrix reached out and softly caressed her sister’s shoulder, down to the top of her breast.

         “So soft,” Bellatrix said, mesmerised.

         Narcissa felt for her sister. Even though her looks had greatly improved since first escaping Azkaban, they would never measure up to the attractiveness Bellatrix used to have. Bellatrix had always taken pride in her good looks, as had Narcissa, so Narcissa knew how she must feel after loosing that beauty. The decay through age and life’s battles is probably easier to bear to those who have never possessed exquisite exterior beauty, while those who have once had it grow bitter at its loss.

“You’re still beautiful,” Narcissa said, dispersing her sister of her last piece of clothing.

“And you’re still a bad liar,” she replied bitterly.

Narcissa cupped Bellatrix’ chin and forced her to look her in the eye.

“You are and always will be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Narcissa said. “No matter what your body has gone through, you’ll still be beautiful. You know why? Because your beauty lies in here,” she said, resting her hand on top of Bellatrix’s heart.

Narcissa leaned in and kissed the spot where her hand had lain seconds before. She kissed downwards, softly licked Bellatrix’ nipple, hearing her sister gasp under her touch, and trailed little nips and licks over her stomach, discovering that the skin was still as sensitive there as it had been years ago.

“Part your legs, love,” Narcissa said. “Let me take care of you.”

Bellatrix complied and Narcissa leaned in and gently licked her sister’s sex, tasting her again after all these years. She didn’t hold her sister’s hips, for she wanted to give Bella the chance to step back when she felt the experience become too much for her. But Bellatrix never stepped back; she faced her demons and climaxed under her sister’s tender caresses, a different kind of blackness consuming her than the one she had lived with for fourteen years.

“I’d forgotten how it had been,” Bellatrix whispered as Narcissa held her, laying herself next to her sister in the warm tub.

“That doesn’t matter now,” Narcissa replied, stroking her sister’s hair, “I’m here to help you remember.”

         The weeks that followed they had dedicated to being reacquainted with each other’s touches. It was like remembering the steps to an old dance, occasionally hesitant, but for the most part recalling the steps with remarkable ease. Narcissa had thought it felt like her first year at Hogwarts, an equally happy time when she was rejoined with her sister after a long separation, a period in her life she would gladly revisit is given the chance.

         Narcissa hadn’t known what the future would bring, who would win the war and what would eventually happen to her and her sister. All she had known was that she wouldn’t mind if things remained the way they were. She had her husband, she had her son and she had her sister; what more could she desire? But once again, Narcissa saw her hopes disillusion when one evening Bellatrix had told her she was leaving on a mission for the Dark Lord; to break into the Ministry of Magic and to risk her life and her freedom once again. Narcissa hadn’t been able to fathom how the Dark Lord could have asked her sister to go through with this after only having had a few months to recuperate from fourteen years of physical and mental abuse. It wasn’t right!

“You’ve stated it before; This is forever,” Bellatrix had simply said, showing Narcissa her Dark Mark, which still stood out as clearly as it had all those years ago.

Narcissa had nodded with grudging acceptance and had stood back as her sister and her husband Disapparated into nothingness; at that point unknowing that only one would eventually return to her. She would have been prepared to hear that her sister would have been incarcerated again, but she hadn’t been prepared to find out that it had been her husband instead. Lucius had been a constant in her life. Bellatrix had been a person she had had to let go little by little, but Lucius had never before made her feel the emptiness that came with loss.

Narcissa had first discovered the notion that she and her sister wouldn’t always be together when Bellatrix had left for Hogwarts without her. Narcissa had finally let Bellatrix go at her wedding day, had let her go a little further when she had joined the Death Eaters, and they had been completely separated for over a decade, only to rejoin later in life in an attempt to recapture their former closeness.

As Narcissa pulled her cloak closer around her, protecting herself from the chilly night air, she realised that that closeness had only been an echo to an age long gone. She and her sister had both changed and so had their relationship. It would never be the same again, and Narcissa had finally come to accept that.

“Cissy – Narcissa – listen to me –” Bellatrix panted, grasping hold of her sister’s arm.

“Go back, Bella!” Narcissa said, wrenching herself from Bella’s grip.

“You must listen to me!”

“I’ve listened already. I’ve made my decision. Leave me alone!”

Bellatrix ignored her demand and kept tracking her as Narcissa headed for the top of the bank, where a line of old railings separated the river from a narrow cobbled street. When they had reached the top, the two sisters stood side by side for a few moments, looking across the road at the rows and rows of dilapidated brick houses. Narcissa heard her sister speaking in a voice of contempt, but she didn’t listen. She didn’t want to hear what she had to say. Narcissa slipped through a gap in the rusty railings and hurried across the road, hearing Bella calling out for her to wait.

“Cissy, you must not do this,” Bellatrix shouted, “You can’t trust him-”

“The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn’t he?” Narcissa retorted.

“The Dark Lord is ... I believe ... mistaken,” Bella panted, and her eyes gleamed momentarily under her hood as she looked around to check that they were indeed alone. “In any case, we were told not to speak of the plan to anyone. This is a betrayal of the Dark Lord’s-”

“Let go, Bella!” Narcissa snarled as Bellatrix had once again grabbed hold of her arm. Narcissa drew her wand from beneath her cloak and held it threateningly in her sister’s face, an action Bella simply laughed at.

“Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn’t –”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do any more!” Narcissa breathed, very serious about that statement.

At times, Narcissa wished she could go back to those peaceful years, when it was just her and her sister; innocent children running around Black Manor and words like ‘marriage’, ‘duty’ and ‘war’ had little meaning to them. But that time had passed. Bellatrix couldn’t understand, with not being a mother and being married to a husband she didn’t love. When this situation had still been hypothetical, the choice Narcissa would have to make had seemed a difficult one. But now, when things had changed and the choice of who she loved the most lay before her, the answer suddenly seemed so easy. Years ago, Narcissa had vowed that her sister could never be replaced by anyone, especially not a man. She was well aware that she now had to break that vow. Narcissa had made her choice, a difficult one, but one she didn’t regret.

“I’m sorry, Bella,” Narcissa thought, her wand still held firmly in her hand, pointing at Bellatrix, “but I have to let you go.”

Narcissa brought her wand down like a knife, another flash of light followed and Bella quickly let go of Narcissa’s arm as though burned.

“Narcissa!”

Narcissa ignored her sister’s cry and rushed ahead, her wand still held firmly in her hand. Narcissa knew Bella would still follow, but she wouldn’t let herself be stopped. The Dark Lord had cost Narcissa her husband, and in a way he had also made her loose her sister, but she’d be damned if she’d let him take her son too. Draco was her love, her life, her very being, as Bellatrix had once been. Narcissa had made her choice; her son had come before her sister.

“Narcissa, wait!” Bellatrix called out, her voice echoing through the empty streets, until it stilled and died out, its plea unrequited. After a moment of startled surprise, Bellatrix resumed her pursuit for her sister, continuing to fight a hopeless battle to a war she had already lost.

*****THE END*****
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Sisterly Love