toujours_nigel | Snapshots: Childhood Games

“No, mother, I am not discussing this any further. I do not care what you or Father say; I do not care what Rodolphus thinks; I am not going to bear a child again. Two miscarriages are quite enough, thank you.”

Sirius shudders; he hates it when Bella gets this angry. He had not meant to eavesdrop, but the shouts could be heard from the library, where he had been hiding since Bellatrix came to stay that morning, a scowling swirl of scarlet silk. The house is very, very quiet these days... Bellatrix married off, Andromeda disinherited and Narcissa staying with the rest of her cousins at the Malfoy manor. Sirius should have gone as well, but begged to stay when he heard Bella was coming to visit.

Now, he wishes he hadn’t, wishes he had succumbed to Lucius’ earnest gaze and Cissa’s pretty words. He knows Bella loves him, would not willingly hurt him...it’s just, the last time she was in a rage like this, a few house-elves ended up having to roast their own noses (weird but Bella is weird) and Regulus locked himself in a cupboard, shaking in fear.

The adults have stopped shouting; Bella has, inevitably, got her own way. When he was younger, he adored this ability, but now, at twelve, he wonders whether it is wise for anyone to never be disappointed in anything, whether it is altogether right.

It is, he decides, as she rounds a corner and smiles at him, full lips a perfect Cupid’s bow, grey eyes the colour of steel. Anything that makes Bella so happy cannot help being right, if only because it makes her more merciful. “Hello, Sirius,” she drawls. He smiles warily at her, this scene has replayed several times since she turned sixteen. Bella never tires of this game. Why should she, when it pleases her so? “Hello, Bellatrix,” he drawls back. She is twenty to his twelve but theirs is an alliance of equals; has been, since he could walk and talk. At least, that is all anyone other than the three of them knows.

“Why are you here? I thought every-one had gone to Lucius’?” she asks when they have gone up to her room and he is lying with his head in her lap. Her long fingers are tangled in his hair; chalk-white and impossibly strong.

“Everyone else has,” he mutters.” But I heard Uncle Cygnus say you were going to come, so I begged to stay longer.” Lucius is very likely cursing him this very second for being a fool. “I’ll go tomorrow, with you.”

She smiles at him, fingers leaving his hair and stroking over his face. “How did you find out?” she asks idly. “I talked to father through the Floo, in the study, at 2 a.m. What were you doing there?”

If it had been anyone else, he would have lied, so impeccably that nothing would have made anyone disbelieve him. But it’s Bella, so he confesses. “I was in the alcove behind Elladora’s portrait, checking the arrangements. James and I were planning on drenching Lucius with slime when he came to fetch everyone.”

“Did you?” He nods, luxuriating in the feels of her hair on his face, her hand in his hair.

“You’re pretty devious for a Gryffindor. Of course, so is James.” He pouts, hoping to stop this line of conversation. He’d rather not talk about precious, innocent Jamie right now. She laughs at his expression, leans down. “Not as devious as you, darling,” she smiles, kisses him. His mouth opens under hers, lets her tongue in. She pulls away, licking her lips. “You still taste the same, kid. Bet you’re driving all the girls mad.” She leans back against the pillows, pulling his head closer.

“No girls. Well yeah, they’d like to, but I haven’t kissed...you’re the only girl I’ve ever kissed, you know that.” Aye, first and only, not that she’d given him a choice.

“No girls? Any boys?” She’s only half-joking; her fingers tighten around a lock of his hair. “Anyone wanting you as his catamite?”

He twists, trying to see his face, laughing. “Nimue, no, of course not. What d’you think I am, a faggot?” How terribly unkind of Bella, to use those broken dreams against him.

Bella laughs again, harsh and cold this time, like his mother’s half-mad cackle. “Well, better not be any boys...you have to give us an heir, pet, a lovely boy as strong and beautiful as you.” ‘So you can have him, Bella? Hurt him? Rape him?’ a voice in his head snarls, echoing Lucius’ helpless anger, that first night, spent pacing the room while he sobbed inconsolably for the death of the fragile, vague dreams he had spun around James. James, who does not know, who will never know... it seems as though there are hazel eyes in Bella’s face, warm, beautiful hazel eyes. They gaze at him; soothe him as Bella leans in for another kiss, sucking hard at his tongue, chewing his lips.

“Don’t you have to?” he asks, pulling away. She cocks an eyebrow. “Don’t you have to give the Lestranges an heir?”

She shrugs; rips open the collar of his robes. “Guess so,” she mutters, pulling him up beside her and licking at his throat. “Well, yes, I have to,” teeth around his collar-bone, tongue laving it. “Just, not right now,” trail of kisses up the side of his neck. “I mean, I’ve just being through two miscarriages in two years,” long licks around the shell of his ear; “can’t expect me to want to go through that again.” She sucks his ear-lobe, then releases him. “Can you?”

He knows Bella expects him to be able to afford her pleasure and answer her questions sensibly at the same time. He also knows Bella will be a lot more brutal if he disagrees. “Not really, you’re not a baby machine, are you?” She smiles, pleased, and starts unbuttoning his robes. “How did Rodolphus react?”

If he’s hoping mentioning her husband will have any effect, he’s sorely mistaken. She barely looks up, instead stroking his nipples to hardness. “He’s, you know, dealing with it.” Knowing Bella, that could mean anything from ‘he’s knocking up some Knockturn Alley whore’ to ‘he’s sitting at home with the house-elves tending to his wounds’. Neither option seems to worry her much. She licks at a nipple, then bites down around it. He stifles a moan, clenching his fists till his nails imprint red crescents on his palms. He learnt early on that Bella does not like any ‘animal sounds’. He wonders fleetingly whether ‘animal sounds’ would please... but Bella twists his other nipple and the name is lost in a wave of pleasure-guilt-pain.

She licks a path down his stomach to his navel, as he sits gasping, terrified, as always of what he might do or say in the few moments he loses all control. If he ever...no, best not even think that. Best just clench his teeth and throw back his head as Bella engulfs him; best just pretend it’s not her voice saying that he tastes delicious and looks perfect when he whimpers; best just pretend that it does not hurt terribly when she violates him...again, again...best just pretend that he does not want, does not need other hands, other lips; best just pretend this is just a game.

Best just pretend that he does not care that he can never have what he wants; best just pretend that he likes this heaven/hell Bella gives him.

Best just pretend he does not pretend to see warm, loving, hazel eyes.