Martha Jones - Interplanetary Explorer

Sat, 05 Jul 2008 20:20:00 GMT

Every year Episode 12 is aamazing and I expect great things of the following.
Every year Episode 13 is a great big reset button and lazy writing.
Why did I expect this year to be different?
Good riddance, RTD. You won't be missed.

Wed, 02 Jul 2008 14:25:15 GMT

Title: Humane
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: None.
Rating: U
Summary: Spoilers for ALL Martha episodes. A brief moment set in The Sontaren Stratagem. Martha explains why she really called the Doctor back to Earth. She wants to explain a few things to him.

Martha Jones shifts uncomfortably on the desk she’s perched on, watching the Doctor inspect the ATMOS device in front of him. He prods it and pokes it, and zaps it with his sonic screwdriver. All to no avail. She seems to be watching him, at least, but her heart is beating faster as she considers how best to start the conversation she’s been craving since he left.

Martha knows she isn’t the same person she was when she first met the Doctor. Back then, she was just plain old Martha, overshadowed by her prettier older sister and her more popular brother. She was the clever one, the one with the place at medical school, and the high aspirations, but definitely overlooked. She knew her parents weren’t deliberately neglecting her or anything, but since she was the clever one, she was expected to cope alright alone. Tish and Leo needed all the help they could get, her parents reasoned, whereas Martha knew where she was going.

To some extent, it was exactly the same with the Doctor. He never said as much, but his odd references here and there were enough to convince her it was true. His last companion might have been the Doctor’s favourite, but Martha got the distinct impression that he was very much her teacher, her mentor. Rose might have been brave and funny, but the Doctor was guiding her across the universe, helping her to battle evil. Whereas Martha was expected to cope fine alone. After all, he’d left her in 1913 without him, expecting her to save him!

“Why do you do it, Doctor?” Martha finally asks, nervous bile rising in her throat as she looks at him. “Why is it that you travel the universe?”

The Doctor looks up at her, surprised that she asks. He lays down the sonic screwdriver and perches on the desk opposite her. “I’m a Time Lord, Martha, you know that. It’s what we do.”

“That’s not an answer. The Master was a Time Lord and he didn’t travel the galaxy like you do.” Martha shakes her heard.

“Like I do?” The Doctor repeats, looking confused.

“Fighting monsters and saving the day.”

The Doctor laughs. “What can I say? I’m just that sort of a man”. He grins at her, palms up as if to prove the point.

“But why?” Martha presses, standing up so she’s looking him straight in the eye. “Is it the danger? Do you like helping people? Do you just enjoy the power of being able to interfere in other people’s lives and wield ultimate power over their fate?”

Martha curses herself mentally. She hadn’t meant that last sentence to slip out with such vehemence. She had thought that she had accepted the situation, that she could discuss it with him reasonably, without the interference of her emotions. But apparently she can’t, and now she feels foolish as the Doctor surveys her seriously, the grin wiped off his face.

“Is that how you see it, Martha?” He asks, his voice remaining detached. “That I interfered in your life?”

Martha shakes her head, her voice feeling small and timid, as if it’s unsure whether or not to pursue the conversation further. “No, it’s not that. You showed me the stars and the galaxies and made me feel like there was something more out there.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yes. It’s amazing. I’ve seen things I never dreamed of. I’ve seen how beautiful the stars are, and how resilient humankind really is. How they keep pushing, whatever they’re facing. I’ve seen that all and I loved it.” Her voice cracks slightly. “But I’ve also seen death and destruction and how horrible species can be.”

“I’m sorry for that, Martha. But it’s not my fault that the universe isn’t a perfect place!” The Doctor protests

“I’m talking about you.”

The Doctor opens his mouth to protest, but the look Martha gives him cuts him off. Feeling a surge of strength within her, Martha prepares to continue. It feels good, finally being able to tell him how he made her feel. That was the one thing missing from her departure from the TARDIS, the chance to hold him accountable for his actions, and how he affected her.

“You made me feel worthless. At first, it was brilliant. We were brilliant. We felt like a team. Martha and the Doctor, defenders of the Universe.” She sighs heavily. “But you never saw it that way, did you? You wanted another Rose, and I never quite compared”

“That’s not true, Martha. Rose was something special, yes. I cared a great deal for her. But I was never trying to turn you into her”

“No, you didn’t need to. You just kept chipping away at me, constantly comparing me to Rose and making it clear I fell short. Rose would know what to do. Rose could solve this problem. Rose was special”

“I didn’t know I was doing it, Martha. You know me, great big outer space dunce.” He offers a small grin, hoping to make her smile.

“No, Doctor. You’re the cleverest man I’ve ever met. It would be bad enough if you didn’t know you were doing it. But you did.” Martha inhales deeply, “You knew I loved you, but you wouldn’t admit it. You knew how I felt about you, and yet you still compared me every minute of every day to Rose.”

“I didn’t know!”

“Donna told me. She told me that you’d said I fancied you. She told me you said it like it was something to be proud of. You knew, Doctor, and you chose to ignore it because it suited you. How was it you described the perception filter on the keys to the TARDIS? ‘Like when you love someone and they don’t know you exist’. Do you know how much that hurt?”

Martha sighs. She wonders if perhaps that’s why she gets on so well with Captain Jack Harkness. He understands exactly how she feels. After all, the Doctor has treated him just as badly as he’s treated her. Never acknowledging that Jack had feelings and emotions.

“Joan had it spot on. I didn’t realise it at the time, because I was too busy feeling bitter that I had scrubbed floors and saved your arse and you hadn’t acknowledged it fully.” Martha blushes. “I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but I was. She was right. You make these grand, expansive gestures and achieve so much, that you don’t realise you’re trampling on other people’s lives. How many people have died around you, Doctor?”

The Doctor can barely manage more than a whisper, he knows what Martha is saying is true. “I save people, Martha. I try.”

“No one would have died in that village in 1913 if you hadn’t decided to hide yourself there.”

Martha can’t quite bring herself to press any further, because she senses that the Doctor might finally understand what she means. She doesn’t mention his reckless actions in New York, flinging himself at the mercy of the Daleks with no thought for her, his loyal companion who would be stranded forever had the daleks made their move. She doesn’t need to mention it. She thinks he knows.

“I can’t make you human, Doctor, because you aren’t. You’ll never fully understand emotions like love and betrayal and crushing inadequacy, however much you think you feel them about Rose” Martha tells him. “I like Donna, Doctor, and that’s why I’m telling you this. If I can’t make you human, then for her sake I can at least make you humane.”

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 20:49:21 GMT

The atmosphere in the small living room had lost some of its tension, and Sirius allowed himself to relax slightly in the over-stuffed sofa. They would have to talk about what had happened. That much was clear, and Sirius was fairly certain that it would have to be him who initiated it. After all, he was the one who had hurt Remus, and it was on his conscience.

“I didn’t want to leave you, Remus. You must know that”

“Must I?” Remus sighed, setting his teacup down on the coaster and looking up at Sirius. For a moment, the hardness in his face faded, but it was then replaced by a steely tone and cold eyes. “What else were you playing at, when you fucked Narcissa?”

Sirius blinked. He wasn’t used to hearing words like that coming from his old friend. And yet, he knew he deserved them completely. What he and Narcissa had done was little more than fucking. There were no niceties like “making love” to describe it. Even “having sex” seemed too dainty a term for what they had done. It was cold, hard fucking. It hadn’t even been love or desire or passion which had driven them. It had been cruelty. Each had wanted to push the boundaries. To see how far they could go before the other backed down.

Only Blacks never backed down.

“I would never have left you for her.” Sirius shook his head vehemently, wanting to make his denial clear. “Never.”

“Am I meant to be grateful for that, Sirius?” Remus retorted. “Were you doing me a favour?”

Sirius couldn’t think of an answer to that. He understood entirely how Remus felt, and he loathed himself for being so selfish. He had been so caught up in his mind games with his cousin that, truth be told, he had never considered Remus’s feelings for a second. Never mind that they were supposedly committed to each other. Never mind that they supposedly loved one another.

“Did you never stop to think how much it would hurt me?” Remus pressed on, mercilessly. “Did you think that it somehow didn’t count because it was a woman you were fucking, not a man? Did you think I was a push over who wouldn’t mind anyway? That I’d be so grateful that the great, Pureblood Sirius Black would deign to look at me, that I’d put up and shut up?”

“Don’t be stupid!” Sirius shouted back.

“Why not? Is that your prerogative, Sirius?” Remus screamed, sounding near hysterical. “Are you the only one allowed to do stupid things? As long as you’re alright, then great. Do what you please, and hang the consequences?”

“I love you, Moony. I always have, and I always will. Narcissa meant nothing to me, nothing at all!”

Silence hung in the air at these words. Sirius glanced at the coffee table, and noticed Remus’s hands were physically shaking. The fair haired man seemed to wilt back into his chair, and for one dreadful moment Sirius thought he was going to faint.

“Oh, Sirius. Can’t you see that’s worse?” Remus sighed, sounding far older than his thirty five years. “What about when someone comes along who does mean something to you? Something more than I do, perhaps” He held up a hand to stop Sirius interjecting. “You say it won’t happen now, but what if it does? If you could betray me for someone who means nothing to you, why would you hesitate to do so for someone who does?”

“Because I realise what a fucking moron that would make me.” Sirius snapped. “Remus, you have no idea what I’ve been through these past years.”

Remus’s head snapped up so he was looking Sirius right in the eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think. And believe me, I have done nothing but think. Do you know what kept me sane these past fourteen years?”

“Your belief in your own innocence, if Dumbledore is to be believed” Remus remarked, raising an eyebrow.

“The thought of you. I needed to apologise for what I did. When I ran away that night, I was always planning to come back and try and make things right. It was just my shitty luck that the Dementors got to me first.”

“The mood you were in when you left that night, I almost wondered sometimes if you were glad to have an excuse not to come back” Remus smiled thinly.

Sirius shook his head and looked at his lap. He had always been planning to come home. He couldn’t imagine a life without Remus by his side. He knew that he had done wrong. All he had wanted was some time to cool down. For both of them to cool down, before they talked things through. That was the good thing about him and Remus. They always talked things through in the end. Even when it took fourteen years of heartache to reach that point.

Sensing that Remus had calmed down slightly, Sirius wondered if he should seize his chance. He still loved the man sat next to him. It was true that in fourteen years he had thought of no-one else. Steeling his nerves, Sirius tentatively reached out his hand, before placing it firmly over Remus’s. His heart was in his mouth as Remus turned to look at him, his surprise written all across the faintly scarred face.

“Remus, can you forgive me?” Sirius muttered, hardly daring to breathe. “please, let’s put this behind us?”

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 17:38:57 GMT

Oh dear, I haven't been this frustrated on so many fronts in a long time.

I haven't had so much as a kiss for over a year. My God. I'm practically a nun. I don't know why this is suddenly bothering me so much, but it is all I can think of recently. I meet boys, we flirt a lot, and then for some reason I spack out and just go all shy and avoid them. Like X at work. Or Y at college. I'd better pull when we go out on Saturday or I might actually die. I'm so desperate that I'm finding Thom Yorke's whiny moany vocal seriously attractive. I've never appreciated them before, but my god.

I can't write either. I'm thinking about channeling all my pent up sexual frustration into a fic, but I'm fairly sure it'd be crap anyway. I need some real inspiration, but I have none. I haven't written anything in months, I've been too busy.

I'm also frustrated that i can't find any motivation to revise for Politics. I mean, it's not like it's important, right? It's only my FUCKING A LEVELS.

Gah.

Sat, 31 May 2008 20:39:24 GMT

Oh, yes. Incidentally, I might feel like posting about something far more interesting than Dan Brown. In fact, it's something everyone should find Quite Interesting.

Yes,me and Cookie saw QI being filmed the other day. It was really ace. We queued for two hours in the rain outside the London Studios by the Southbank centre. But it was so worth it! When we were ushered in at last, we were FRONT ROW. So literally aabout twenty feet away from the stage and MR STEPHEN FRY.

It was so good. The guests were David Mitchell (he's so adorably geeky!), Rich Hall, and JIMMY CARR. I have to confess to still not knowing who Rich Hall is, but nevermind. And of course, there was Alan Davies and Mr Fry himself.

The show is brilliant. My mum told me it'd probably be really scripted, with Stephen asking the question about seventy times so they could get the funniest clips, but it wasnt! It's exactly what it's like on the telly, just a two hour chat about absolutely nothing, but very interesting nothing. It's rather rude actually, I'm sure half of what they were discussing wouldnt mkae it onto TV. And then at the end, they just redo a few takes that werent loud enough or the technology screwed up.

Overall, I still love Qi. But sadly, I probably won't be in the country when it's shown. Filming doesnt finish until the 12th of June, so there's only five weeks that it can be shown in, and I think out episode was episode 3. I'll have to get my mum to tape it XD

Sat, 31 May 2008 16:44:36 GMT

Just reread Digital Fortress again. I always forget how much I hate that book, until I reread it again. Same with Angels and Demons, actually.

Dan Brown is a fucking moron. A languages expert that "mastered six Asian dialects as well as French, Spanish and Italian"? For fuck's sake, that's a stupid sentence right there. Asian dialects? Is Mandarin now a dialect? That's stretching it a bit surely? And really, once you've mastered one Romance language, it's not hard to pick up the others. I've only ever studied French, but I can read Spanish and Italian when they're on the page.

And the central code at the end of the novel? I realised the answer to the code the first time it turned up in the novel, before these so called genii even recognised its relevance. Heck, the didnt have a clue.

GAH.

Thu, 22 May 2008 17:15:03 GMT

I tried home waxing today. I'll let you imagine where.

Let's just say I'm a moron and call it a day, yes? Easier all round, I think.

Mon, 12 May 2008 19:32:54 GMT

I really want to write a fic about Family of Blood. That's easily my favourite episode of New Who. I like the Evil Doctor at the end, and Baines is sexy in a sort of demented way. I also want to write about UNIT!Martha, but my inspiration has dried up completely.

Anyone want to give me a prompt? Even random word generators aren't helping me. I'll write it about anything you like, or at least have a damn good try.

Thu, 16 Aug 2007 14:46:15 GMT

Got my AS results today. I'm not a very happy bunny really. I was predicted AAAB, but got BBBC. *sigh* I cried, and now I'm really embarrassed that everyone was so nice to me when, in reality, my results were actually better than theirs anyway. I had a good cry and lots of chocolate when I got home though, and I'm focussing on the positives now. I got some really good marks in certain papers, and I can resit the shit ones that pulled me down.

In short:

French: B / 79% (76/90, 70/90, 91/120)
German: B / 76% (68/90, 72/90, 89/120)
Politics: B / 74% (98/100, 74/100, 50/100)
English Literature: C / 67% (90/90, 59/90, 52/120)

80% is an A, 70% is a B, etc

French, I got a B. That was the one that stung the most. Miss KP has been telling me all year how I should get an A easily, and that it was practically a dead cert. Admittedly, I didn't revise for it, but I've never done revision for French and I always get As on practise papers. I guess I'm complacent. I got an A in my Oral exams though, which I'm really pleased with ^^ Overall, I was just 3 marks off an A. That means I got 79% when I needed 80% for an A. Gutted. I'm definitely resitting some of that.

English, I got a C. That was the other one that was shaky. I was predicted a high A. I got full marks on my Shakespeare coursework, which made me so happy, until I realised that I got a C and an E on the two papers. I'm really, really pissed off about that, because I love English and I actually put effort into that subject. Overall though, I was only 9 marks off a B, so I'm definitely resitting at least one of them papers. Thank God for the coursework, without that I would have been at a D or something.

Politics was a surprise and a half. I got the B that I was predicted, but the marks were so strange. I got a D on the third paper :( But I got a 98/100 and 74/100 on the other two papers, which made me squee so much :D I thought there'd been a typo or something, I just kept rereading that first one for ages. I was 18 marks from an A, and normally that'd be far too much for it to be worht resitting, but since I did so abdly on paper 3, I'm resitting that. I'd only need to get 68% in that one to get an A, which shouldn't be too hard, if I revise A LOT.

German was a pleasant surprise. I got a B in my oral, which was a shock, since it was so painful and crigneworthy at the time. I got an A in the listening paper (!) and a B for the reading. Overall, I was 11 marks off an A. I don't think it's really worth my resitting that, since I think I did as well as I ever could, but I'll talk to Mrs Devaney about it and see what she thinks. It'd just be sheer vanity that would make me do it though, to try and bring all my grades up XD

Hope any others getting their results did well :D

Sun, 22 Jul 2007 19:55:01 GMT

Things I was right about:
* Deaths of Remus and Fred. And Harry (ish)
* Hermione and Ron, Ginny and Harry getting it on.
* Drama at Bill and Fleur's Wedding.
* Snape being good.

___________

I'm well disappointed Snape turned out to be good. I like my villains to be truly evil.

The story was rather predictable though, i saw most of it coming, except the Hallows (and I really hoped they'd be something a bit more awesome to be honest). And pretty much everyone had already guessed RAB was regulus, and what happened with kreacher? I was reading it like "I already knew this?"

i was bored yesterday because my book didnt turn up, and all the stories i read had Harry calling his kids Lily and James and i thought to myself "nah, he wouldn't be that predictable". And yet...he was. *sigh* Also, Lily, James, Albus Severus? One of these things is not like the others...

JKRowling cannot write death scenes. she can do the post-death angst alright but the actual deaths themselves are crap. Dumbledore's death in Book 6 was the only death that has actually affected me as a scene in itself. Seriously, JKR was really stretching it when she claimed two characters close to harry died. Fred, Dobby, Snape, Tonks, mad eye etc...They weren't really close. And Lupin just his no-explanation-just-a-body-on-the-table way. I was sure Lupin would die, but i thought he'd get a bit more glory than just being a body on a table, tbh

I was shocked at the language in this book, actually. they havent used words like "bitch" and "bastard" before, have they?

The epilogue made me angry. I really wanted to know what happened to the Malfoys though? That epilogue bit was crap. I was hoping for more like "six months later, society is like this…" rather than "nineteen years later, all the couples you knew would be together, are…" Also, could we not have heard about all the characters that survived? What happened to the Dursleys? The Malfoys? All the Death Eaters? Neville and Luna?

It might not sound like it, but I did like the book really. Just...could have been better.

Also, I am pissed off at Tesco. I know I work for them, and I love them to bits usually because they're the more reliable of supermarkets, but...using parcelforce for important deliveries? Are they on drugs? I waited all day for my copy, and it never showed up. I ended up having to go to the Tesco I work at and buying it myself (for nearly two quid more than the pre-ordered one).

Wed, 18 Jul 2007 16:45:54 GMT

I haven't read the book, or seen the 'leaked' copy, so if I happen to be right, it's sheer luck, not spoilers. If you're fussed about that, then don't read the next bit

The staff over at mugglenet have posted their predictions for what will happen in Book 7, so I thought I'd follow suit. Just for shits and giggles ~~and to boast if I fluke it and end up being right~~

Who will die?

I don't know. I sort of want it to be Harry, because what I love about the books is the fact that they are dark, and the world is a scary place. Harry seems a bit of a super-hero in the past few books, and I'd like some acknowledgement that he isn't, even if it's just a serious injury! I'd like Ginny to die, because I'm fed up of her. Canonsue!Ginny is starting to piss me off, and I don't want the books turned into some true-love-lasts-forever kind of story. I'm also not certain that Hagrid, Remus or Fred and George are safe :(

Will Harry return to Hogwarts?

Probably. I'm not overly concerned about this point, but I'm sure he'll want to talk to Dumbledore's portrait and stuff.

How will the various relationships unfold/begin?

Hermione and Ron will get together, obviously. I think something will go wrong at Fleur and Bill's wedding, possibly a DE attack or something. I also want some Malfoy please. I refuse to believe that they're as simple as they seem to be in the books so far.

To what does "Deathly Hallows" refer?

In think it's something to do with the voice behind the veil in the department of mysteries, as they must have been mentioned for a reason. Also perhaps something to do with the people killed to create the Horcruxes. However, it sounds like a place name to me, but that might be me linking Godric's Hollow and Deathly Hallows.

Is Snape good/bad/neither?

I really want him to be evil. It would be nice if there was one main character that was just pure evil, without the need to redeem him and make him a hero. Not everyone has deep, psychological traumas *cough*stilldisappointedaboutriddlesbackstory*cough*, some people are just shitty. I hope Lucius Malfoy is the same. I like my villains to be truly evil :( I think he'll turn out to be on the good side though.

And one I added myself because I want to get my point down on 'paper'

Is Harry a Horcrux?

I honestly don't think so. I'm not sure how that could work really. If Voldemort had sealed a part of his precious soul in Harry, why would he repeatedly try and kill Harry over the seven years we've seen? To be immortal, he wants the six Horcruxes to remain intact, yet he seems set on destroying Harry. I also don't see any way to resolve the story if Hary is indeed one of the Horcruxes. It puts Harry in the position that he will never be able to defeat Voldemort, making the whole of the series a bit redundant. To kill Voldemort, Harry must destroy the six horcruxes, before attacking the part of soul left inside Voldemort's body. So, if Harry were a Horcrux, he would have to kill himself. I quite like this idea as a potential way to let Voldemort win.

However, it could all be a clever ruse on the part of Voldemort, making sure that his enemy could never defeat him and survive. Of course, it's possible that another member of the Order could finish Voldemort off once Harry is dead and the last fragment of soul destroyed, but it still means that Harry himself is not victorious, and it was pointless writing the seventh book in a third-person omniscience focussed on Harry (also, if Harry dies, how would the narration continue?).

Mon, 11 Jun 2007 10:32:54 GMT

I had a really, really scary dream last night. And the infuriating thing is that I can't remember much of it, only that it was horrible.

It started off as being about someone else. It was this woman, and she was being stalked by this creature thing. It kept appearing in places she was, and taunting her. Then suddenly the dream was about me, and I was the woman being stalked. Only it was my whole family.

For some reason, we went down to a river to meet this strange creature and it was a really beautiful woman. Actually, it was how I'd imagine Bellatrix from the HP books to look and sound like, and I feel like such a geek for making that connection. Anyway, she was taunting us, but all I remember about her was she had this really seductive sort of trance-like voice. Then she got into a boat and sailed off down the river, and my dad tried to shoot at her with a crossbow, but he hit a bird instead (Ancient Mariner FTW!). For soem reason, she couldn't be hit.

Then we went home, and we were hiding in my mum's bedroom, just sitting on the bed being scared. The phone rang, and I answered it, and it was the woman's voice. I can't remember what she said, but it was scary. When she hung up, I dialled 1471 and it went "This call was placed by...a zombie!"

That sounds quite amusing actually, when I write it like that, but it was terrifying. After the 1471 call, I woke up, and I was literally scared stiff. I couldn't move until I calmed down. Bloody scary. I never have nightmares, and considering that I have (and remember) at least two dreams a night, that's saying something.

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 21:10:46 GMT

Oh em gee, a post with something that isn't fanfiction.

I really do apologise for the fact that your friends lists have probably just been blasted to Hell and back with my fics. I only just got around to cataloging and tagging my fics.
Sorry. I promise not to do it again, and from now on there'll just be one fanfic post at a time.

JM x

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 20:55:50 GMT

Title: Dalma's Revenge
Characters: Tia Dalma, Jack Sparrow
Rating: Probably about a 12, since that's what the films are
Summary: Jack Sparrow would rue the day he crossed Tia Dalma

"Him leave me, I make him pay…"

The candlelight flickered in the darkened hut as the woman rooted through the cupboards. Her dark braids fell forward into her eyes, and she tossed them back impatiently. She knew exactly how she'd make him pay. Jack Sparrow would rue the day he ever crossed Tia Dalma.

"Aha!" Finding what she had been looking for, Tia stood and squinted at the jar.

She didn't hate him. She was as old as the hills and the swamps surrounding her hideaway; hate was a waste of precious time. Tia would punish him, for what he had done to her, and move on. It was her way, and Jack Sparrow should have known so.

Doing what she had to do, Tia sat back to view her work in her orb. Jack Sparrow appeared, crossing the Pearl's deck with that familiar, arrogant swagger. Suddenly, he stopped dead, and his eyes widened, almost comically.

"Bugger"

Tia Dalma threw back her head and laughed raucously, slamming a hand on the table so hard that the orb rolled off and shattered on the floor.

"Him wish him never leave Tia Dalma now." She murmured to herself. "Snip snip. Now who de eunuch, Jack Sparra'?"

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 20:52:19 GMT

Title: Such a Man
Characters: Narcissa Black, Sirius Black, Lucius Malfoy
Rating: 12 for implications of incest
Summary: Oh, he had her then. Romeo and Juliet. He remembered!

Gratuitous references to Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.

I love the Sirius and Narcissa dynamic, and I totally believe they could have had a relationship. This is a recurrent theme in my HP fiction, so if you do see a fic with these characters in it, chances are it's Blackcest. My apologies if you don't like that.

As her husband lifted his hands from over Narcissa's eyes, she felt herself gasp with amazement. Every inch of the ballroom gleamed with icicles and live faeries. The usually dark and classic tables shone with a fine coating of frost, and yet the room was warm enough for their guests, all hundred of them, to not require anything more than the flimsy dress robes that were in favour this summer.

"A small get together?" Narcissa muttered, turning to her husband and raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"Only the best for my wife" Lucius replied.

They shared a smile. They had been wed only a month, and the novelty had yet to fade. It amazed Narcissa and confused her equally, how Lucius could change like the wind. He treated her well, most of the time, and what more could she ask for? True, he could be cutting at times, but that was only because he expected perfection. And why should he expect anything less? If perfection was what Lucius wanted, then perfection was what Narcissa would give him. After all, hadn't she been trained as such? Lucius could provide her with security, with stability.

At least she told herself so. Sometimes, when Lucius was away on some shady business, and Narcissa was left alone to await his return, she couldn’t help but wonder what might have been. If she had had the courage to take Sirius at his word. It was true that she loved the luxuries that life with Lucius afforded her, but she hated the restrictions.

As Lucius excused himself to attend to business, Narcissa decided to greet her guests. After all, it was only proper. And of course, she had all the society gossip to hear, as preoccupied as she had been getting to know her new husband. It didn’t take long for her to find out the reasons the Notts and the Averys weren't on speaking terms. Nor to learn of the latest man that Cecelia Parkinson had ensnared, and how she surely must have used some kind of love potion, as she's no great beauty, is she, now?

And at the centre of a small group, shrouded in the corner, stood Bella. Of course, her and her kind would be lurking in the shadows, Narcissa thought to herself. She and her sister had never seen eye to eye on anything. Quite the opposite, if truth be told. Bella had been the dramatist, the one with the flair for the obscene and shocking. Yet now, Narcissa was not the shy younger sister. If society was anything to go by, she now held the most power, albeit through her husband. She plastered a smile on her face as he sister caught sight of her.

"Cissa, darling. How are you? You look ever so pale" Bella pulled a face of faux concern. "Are you sure you aren't sickening for something?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Narcissa replied, keeping her tone even. There were things in the past that Narcissa could never quite forgive Bellatrix for.

"That's good to hear, my dear. After all, the younger generation of our family do seem to drop like flies, don't they?" The tone was conversational, and yet Narcissa was astounded at even Bellatrix's audacity. "Andromeda, Sirius, Regulus…I'd hate for you to fall too"

Ah, it seemed Bellatrix had become mistress of the veiled threats. "You seem in more immediate danger than me, Bella." She smiled, her cold eyes glinting slightly. "Hell will freeze over before I fall, for any reason"

Bellatrix smiled, and cast a discerning eye around the room. "It would seem it already has" She remarked, dryly.

Shrugging, Bella turned back to her adoring fans. Narcissa forced herself to keep the smile in place. She had her suspicions, as had the rest of society, about exactly at whose hands Regulus Black had met his untimely and distinctly sinister demise. And whilst it were true that neither her sister nor her oldest cousin had met their maker quite yet, that was not through lack of wishing on Bellatrix's part, Narcissa was sure.

No, Sirius and Andromeda were simply the lucky ones. Or maybe the sensible ones. It depended how you looked at it. They had taken the best parts of the family- the brains, the looks- and got the Hell out as soon as they could. No entrapment for them, picked apart by society for a hairpin out of place, or a husband who didn't return home some nights. No, Andromeda was happy. And Sirius- well, Sirius was free.

"Having fun, Cissa?" The voice came over her shoulder, and even now it made her spine tingle.

She knew that voice. How could she not, the amount of time she had spent in his company? The number of times that voice alone had made her putty in his hands. And yet, it couldn’t be him. This was Malfoy Manor, for goodness' sake. For Sirius Black to turn up on Pureblood property would be to ask for a beating. To turn up at the Malfoy's property was tantamount to suicide.

"Yes, I am, Sirius." She wouldn’t turn to face him. She kept her tone crisp and her eyes turned away, she couldn’t look at him. Everything would just come crashing down. "I daresay I shall have even more fun when my husband returns to me"

"I see age hasn’t diluted your poison, Cissa" Sirius winced, aware that he probably deserved the comment.

She had to smile at that. "Age? Sirius, if anything, age will only increase my poison. After all, just take a look at Bella. You and Andromeda aged her. You're just sorry I didn’t let you do the same to me" She turned to look at him. "What is it that you want, Sirius?"

He shrugged, knowing it would irk her. "We were idiots at school, Cissa." He held up a hand to placate the argument he knew would be coming. "Me more than you, I admit. Walk with me?"

Narcissa hesitated. Part of her, the Slytherin and the Black, was tempted to refuse. To insist he proved he was sorry, and risk being sighted for her. The other part, the more human part, knew that wasn’t wise. Sirius would never risk his pride for her. It didn’t occur to her how often he had done just that, both at Hogwarts and on this very evening. It was this part that triumphed, for maybe the first time, and she allowed him to guide her from the hall.

As with the Manor itself, the grounds had been decorated to Lucius' tastes. The lake was frozen solid, and the trees glinted delicately in the moonlight. Live faeries shivered in the shrubs. The whole setting just reminded Narcissa of her husband, and she was surprised to find that this make her far more irritated than she would have expected. She hugged herself tight, not sure quite whether it was to keep away the cold, or Sirius' advances.

"Come on, Cissa" He smiled, and she felt her heart skip a beat. Damn, he had her wrong footed. "Will you now deny to dance?"

Oh, he had her then. Romeo and Juliet. He remembered! She knew he had thought her pathetic at the time, for loving the play so. He had called her a romantic, and something in his tone made her feel it wasn’t a compliment. Romeo and Juliet belonged in the past, he had said, perhaps slightly bitterly, as did most of the traditions Narcissa obeyed so dearly. And yet, here they were, five years older and barely changed. And he had remembered!

"A man, such a man." She muttered, almost to herself, as he moved closer.

It felt so good to dance again. Lucius would never dance with her. He said that it was unbecoming, and made fools of those stupid enough to do it. He preferred to stand and make stilted conversations with important people. Narcissa wouldn’t have minded, but this meant she could not dance at all. For such a prominent figure's wife to dance with another man would be the worst kind of humiliation.

Narcissa had accepted this, for there was nothing to be done about it. Now, however, she realised what she had been missing. The swish of her skirt and the sound of her shoes against the stone patio. Being close enough to someone that you could feel them, smell them. Maybe she just thrived off of being close to anyone, something that the Society Princess didn’t get to feel often.

"I haven't forgiven you," She muttered, looking up at him, "I don’t even like you much"

"I know." He smiled and twirled her slowly. "I don’t like you either"

Never was a truer word spoken than in jest, Narcissa thought to herself. She felt no more love for Sirius than she did for Lucius, nor did she like him. With Sirius, it was lust and guilt and envy and passion. Something she'd never have with Lucius, no matter how long they were together. Narcissa longed the love from fairy tales, the love that seemed reserved for the innocent princesses in their ivory towers. For now, perhaps, she'd settle for lust. It was more fun that way.

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 20:49:11 GMT

Title: The Maharajah
Characters: Narcissa Malfoy, Sirius Black, Lucius Malfoy, Callidora Malfoy, Abraxas Malfoy, Druella Black
Rating: I'd rate this a 12 for the implication of kissing cousins
Summary: She was angry - nay, furious! - that he had dared to run up to ruin her wedding day

I took the theme of the Maharajah from Moulin Rouge, so all references to that should be credited there, although the words are mine.

WARNING: Kissing cousins

The Ice Gardens of Toulouse were the pride of the French ministry for magic. It was no wonder, Narcissa Black thought, for she had never seen such beautiful sculptures. While the ground beneath her feet was content to shimmer gently in the sunlight, the statues paraded their beauty. The glistening Cupid, frozen arrows tipped with everlasting fire, stood proud over the entrance, casting appraising glances at the guests as they entered.

"It's so beautiful at this time of year, don't you agree?" Callidora Malfoy simpered, waving a hand around the gardens, as though she herself had created this gift for her son's fiancée.

Narcissa continued to stare, her attention apparently elsewhere. Her mother gave her a sharp nudge in the ribs, bringing her back to the present. "Quite so, " She smiled softly. "Lucius and I really must thank you for finding so fine a venue, Mrs Malfoy"

"Oh, darling, call me Dora. After all, we're almost related!" Callidora gave a tinkling laugh, which made Narcissa's nerves twitch. "Now, about your veil…"

As both mother and soon-to-be in-law fell into conversation on the merits of veils over tiaras, Narcissa permitted herself a small sigh. The gardens were lovely, it was true. And yet, she would have given anything in the world to be somewhere else that day. While she had dreamed of her wedding day since she was a small girl, Narcissa had never quite imagined it like this.

After all, in her youthful fantasies, she had loved her groom to be. Not that she didn't admire Lucius, and the things he could provide for her. No. She would be content to marry such a fine, pureblooded man. He was fast making a name for himself in the Ministry, and was a pillar of the community. Her parents approved. Even the notoriously hard to please Bellatrix was impressed with Narcissa's catch.

And yet…Narcissa's heart was not in this marriage. How could it be, she thought, when it so firmly belonged to another? It could never work with Sirius, she knew. He was her cousin, and a blood traitor, in the eyes of society. The outcast and the princess. What a joke that union would be. No, Narcissa Black was aspiring to greatness, and she knew how to get it. Marrying Lucius Malfoy was the quickest way to status she knew. Sirius had been told, firmly, exactly what Narcissa's intentions were.

Which was why it came as such a surprise to her when she saw him lounging against a frozen pillar, an eyebrow raised and seemingly not a care in the world. Narcissa started, confused. Sirius was an outcast. A traitor and an absconder. She was sure none of her family had been in contact with him since he had left Grimmauld Place a good ten years ago. To turn up now - at Narcissa's wedding, no less! - was to ask for trouble.

"Oh, what a beautiful statue!" Narcissa exclaimed, widening her eyes slightly. "Mother, do you mind if I admire it further?"

Druella opened her mouth as though to protest, but Callidora cut across her. "Of course we don't mind, Narcissa. We know how much you girls love your glitter, don't we, Druella?"

Narcissa's mother raised an eyebrow, in suspicion, but said nothing. "Of course we do, Dora. Don't dally too long though, Narcissa, the ceremony begins shortly."

Smiling her thank-yous to the two women, Narcissa turned on her heels. She felt the crunching beneath her ivory shoes, as her feet beat a rapid staccato across the frozen ground. She had no idea how to approach him. She was angry - nay, furious! - that he had dared to run up to ruin her wedding day. And yet…she couldn't help but admire him for it.

"What do you want, Sirius?" She snapped, settling for anger.

"I couldn't let my little cousin down on her wedding day now, could I?" Sirius offered a smile, which died as she continued to glare. "He's not right for you, Cissa!"

"And you are, I suppose?" She made a small, disdainful noise.

"I love you, Cissa" He said, simply, shrugging his shoulders.

"Sirius, the only reason you love me is because you know you can't have me. Women fall at your feet to lick your soles, and yet I don't. You've never given me reason to believe that you loved me any more than any other challenge." Narcissa spat, contemptuously.

She felt a tingle run down her spine as he pulled her closer to him. His hands resting against the small of her back, their mouths met. Narcissa's hands reached for his shirt collar, pulling him roughly towards her, all but melting into him. She felt his tongue tracing her mouth, then his teeth biting gently on her lip. Another shiver ran through her, as she ran a hand across his chest. She moaned as his lips traced down to her neck and began to tease her skin, nipping lightly and sending spasms through her.

It had never been like that with Lucius. There was pleasure, of course. Never had there been such gentleness behind the act though. Lucius was possessive, and eager. He wanted what was his, and he would get it. And Narcissa had always been curious as to what drove a person to such greed. Now she understood. It was the power rush. She had had Sirius where she wanted him, and he hadn't even realised she was using him.

As she felt Sirius's hands wander past her hips, Narcissa pulled back abruptly. Fixing a disdainful look upon her calm face, she pushed him away from her.

"I don't understand, Cissa…" Sirius began, but he was cut off.

"Sirius, why would the courtesan choose the penniless sitar player over the maharajah, who is offering a lifetime of security?" Narcissa smirked, turning her back to him and heading towards the Garden Hall.

Her mother was standing inside the Hall, talking to Abraxas Malfoy. Upon seeing her youngest daughter, Druella began to march over.

"And where have you been, young lady?" She snapped, before noticing Narcissa's still triumphant grin. "And don’t you smirk at me, young lady."

"Now, now, Druella" Abraxas placed a placating hand on Druella's arm. "A girl needs her time to think. It's a big day for Miss Narcissa."

"I apologise mother, Mr Malfoy. I was admiring a beautiful sculpture and I quite lost track of the time" Narcissa plastered an apologetic smile across her face. "I guess I was just rather overwhelmed. After all, it's not every day you marry into such an important family as yours, Mr Malfoy"

Abraxas smiled indulgently at his daughter-in-law. Druella looked unconvinced, but decided not to press the matter. After all, it would only spoil the day. And heavens knew the Black family needed this day to restore some of the pride her errant daughter and nephew had robbed them of.

The minister came over, speaking in harried whispers. It was time for the service, he told them. Lucius was waiting at the alter, and every body in the Hall was waiting for the bride to make her entrance.

Patting her daughter's arm supportively, Druella headed for her seat. Narcissa took a deep breath. This was the biggest thing she had ever done in her life. For once, Narcissa was the center of attention, not Bellatrix.

Her stomach did a dance inside her, although her outward appearance remained calm. She didn't shake as she headed down the aisle, clutching her father's arm as though it were a lifebelt in a storm. She felt a tingle run through her as she saw Lucius. Now there was a truly handsome man. And in half an hour, he would be all hers. To love and to cherish forevermore. Frankly, it terrified her.

The ceremony itself passed relatively quickly. Narcissa repeated her vows carefully, trying to sound as though she meant them. Lucius, for his part, was a good actor, or genuinely infatuated. Her mother would have told Narcissa it was the latter, but her daughter remained wary. What her and Lucius had was lust, not love.

"You may now kiss the bride" The minister declared, smiling indulgently at the two lovers.

Lucius drew Narcissa close, holding her wrists. To the watching crowd, it looked passionate, but Narcissa almost gasped in pain. He was clenching her so hard, and the look in his eyes scared her slightly. The guests saw him caress her mouth with his lips, but only she heard the harsh warning he muttered as he pulled away.

"It's not that I'm a jealous man, Narcissa" He smiled, but there was no humour in it. "I just don't like other people touching my things. Remember that."

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 20:45:29 GMT

Title: Bricks and Mortar
Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin
Rating: Apparently I can get away with a 12 because there's only occasional strong language :)
Summary: Sirius is sent to lie low at Remus's over the summer, awakening old emotions and anxieties in both men. Post Goblet of Fire.

This will be mild slash, which should be obvious since the first chapeter tells you they've had a sexual relationship in the past. All references to sex will be discreet, anything more than kissing will be fade-to-black. I'm posting the first two chapters together, since I have them written now. Later chapters will be in separate posts.

A dark shadow stalked down the winding country lanes. The sun was setting, and the breeze was starting to turn to a chill. The overpowering scent of summer evenings hung in the air, and the pollen was almost choking. Birds were singing in the far-distance, and the trees seemed to be toying with his hearing, remaining silent for an eternity, before making him start as they rustled gently. In battle and surveillance, having the sharper senses of a dog was a useful asset. In rural Somerset, they were nothing more than an annoyance.

He had reached his destination. The small cottage stood small and unobtrusively in front of him. The curtains were neat and tidy, the front well kept, and the garden blooming. It was your typical country cottage, completely unremarkable. If anything, it seemed timid and frail. The house itself seemed to be retreating into the ivy covering its front, as though wishing to remain hidden from anything that could disturb its peace and tranquillity. Yet to Sirius, it seemed like an impregnable fortress. The ivy may as well have been barbed wire, and the oak tree by the crooked gate a proud and fierce sentinel, armed with arrows and spears rather than simply acorns.

Since everywhere around the house was so deserted, Sirius felt it was safe to return to his true form. He felt his limbs lengthen as he transformed, his face retreating and returning to more human features. He felt he could breathe again, no longer troubled by his super-sensitivity. Of course, with the human form came human feelings. The doubt and paranoia. The guilt, at exactly how badly he had affected the person inside this house's life. The nervousness and fear at what would happen when he raised a hand and knocked on the door.

Would he shout and scream, or would he simply give him a resigned look and a cup of tea? Sirius knew that the man had manners, and prized them above all else. He'd had to, Sirius supposed. Manners and routine were all you had to fall back on, when your world came crashing down and there was no one else to pick up the pieces.

Only one way to find out… Sirius raised a hand and banged loudly on the door. His heart in his throat, he counted how long it would take the man to reach the door.

One…Two…Three…Four…Five… Six…Seven…Eight…Nine…Ten…

He knew from experience that if Remus took a long time, it meant he was straightening cushions on his sofa, and putting papers away in a drawer. Remus taking a long time to answer the door meant it was a stranger. Tidying the house before opening the door meant that Remus was uncomfortable showing his faults, felt he had to put on a show. It was strange, he thought, how much you could tell from something so small.

Eleven…Twelve…Thirteen…Fourteen…Fifteen…Sixteen…Seventeen…Eighteen…Nineteen…Twenty

The sounds of footsteps on the stairs made Sirius jump again. Remus always took his time to walk down the stairs, making sure he stepped on each one in turn. Sirius had used to tease him about it, calling him old before his time. Remus had just ignored him, and continued walking down every step, while Sirius pulled faces at him and jumped the bottom six.

Twenty-one…Twenty-two…Twenty-three…Twenty-four…Twenty- five…Twenty-six…Twenty-seven…Twenty-eight…Twenty-nine…

He heard the scrape of a key in the lock, and a heavy clank as the bolt turned. Then he heard the slight jangling as the keys were hung back on the wall. On the small silver hook that Remus had insisted on installing one summer, when Sirius had lost his keys for the thirtieth time. If you hang them back on the hook, Sirius, you'll always know where they are. Well, that's what Remus had claimed.

Thirty…

The door was yanked open, quickly as though Remus was afraid he might change his mind halfway through and slam it. Sirius's first impression was that Remus was old now. His once brown hair had grown longer, and the flecks of grey that Sirius had once insisted made Remus look more distinguished, were now liberal streaks. Even his face seemed grey and tired, as though simply walking to the door were too much of a struggle to bother with.

The silence hung in the air, but it wasn't a lazy, restful silence like that Sirius had become accustomed to on his long journey from Hogwarts. It was tense, as though each was afraid to speak, out of either sheer embarrassment, or shock.

"Honey, I'm home" Sirius attempted a light-hearted, jocular tone, but as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth, he felt them fall flat.

"This isn't a home, Sirius" Remus sighed, turning on his heels, leaving Sirius trailing in his wake. "It's a house. Just bricks and mortar. Nothing more, nothing less."

****

As they entered the living room, Remus gestured towards a chair and Sirius gratefully sat down. He had been walking for days to get to this little cottage, and he wasn't entirely sure that the journey had been a wise one. He watched Remus closely, wondering if he was going to say anything. It would seem not.

"What, no tea?" Sirius asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Do you want tea, Sirius?" Remus asked, his voice hard and cold, more a challenge than a genuine question.

"No, not really", Sirius lowered his gaze, feeling intimidated.

This was madness, Sirius thought. Since when had Remus intimidated him? This was the man who thought all the world's problems could be solved with butter soaked crumpets. That the wizarding world should lay aside their arms, and settle their power struggles over breakfast foods and a nice spot of orange juice. If there were a less intimidating man in the world, Sirius would have liked to meet him.

"Remus, I…" Sirius began, before trailing off awkwardly. He had no idea what he had intended to say, but he just had to break that awful tense silence.

"Yes?" Remus was looking at him, his amber eyes boring into Sirius. He seemed genuinely curious as to what Sirius was trying to say.

"I just wanted to say…" Sirius cast his mind around for the words. Any words at all. "Thank you for letting me stay here."

"It wasn't my decision, Sirius, and I'd be lying if I told you that I volunteered for this." Remus shook his head. "Dumbledore asked me to do this, and who am I to refuse?"

Sirius's face flickered with hurt and he flushed. "I see."

He picked at a stray thread on his dark coloured trousers. Standard Azkaban prisoner attire. Since he'd been on the run, he hadn't had a chance to change his clothes. They had been made to fit him when he had entered Azkaban, a strong lad of twenty-two, all muscles and brawn. A few short weeks in that wretched hellhole had been enough to change that. Now they hung off his scrawny frame, the excess fabric of his trousers wrinkling and emphasising his protruding hips. The shirt swamped him now. It occurred to him now that after fourteen years in the same clothes, he probably stank.

"I think I need a shower." He announced. "Can I use your bathroom?"

Remus just continued to look at him, that same measured stare refusing to give any hint of emotion. "Of course. You know where it is. Towels are-"

"-In the airing cupboard?" Sirius finished, out of habit. As soon as he'd said it, he hesitated, feeling like he had been too presumptuous.

What might have been a smile flickered across Remus's face, but it was soon gone. "I forget how well you know this place."

"I used to know you that well too, Moony," Sirius sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he rose from his chair. "I’d like to know you that well again, if you'd let me"

Remus's eyes widened in surprise, but Sirius didn’t see as he headed out the door. Halfway up the stairs, he stopped and hit his forehead with his palm. He hadn't meant it like that, but he could already tell that Remus thought so. He wanted to be Remus's friend more than anything at this point in time, he didn't want to throw him down on the carpet and shag his brains out.

Well, he did. But friendship was more important at that moment, strange as that might have been for Sirius Black.

Grabbing a towel from the airing cupboard, Sirius headed towards the bathroom, still torturing himself over his choice of words. Every time he thought about what he had said, his insides squirmed and burned. The hot water of the shower did nothing to solve his dilemma, so he reached for the temperature dial and yanked it as cold as it would go.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." He yelped, as he rubbed shower gel over his body. "Holy fuck, that's cold."

At least it had taken his mind off Remus and their troubles for a moment, Sirius thought, as he turned off the water and wrapped his towel around his waist. He looked at the floor, at the clothes he had left strewn on the mat. He didn't ever want to wear them again, so he seized them from the floor and marched to the bedroom. Swinging his arm backwards, he tossed the offending garments into the bin, as though he were bowling a cricket ball.

Ah, now the dilemma. What exactly was he going to wear? He hadn't any clothes of his own, so he supposed he would have to borrow Remus's. Well, until he could find someone to go get him some robes from Madam Malkin's. It was so tiresome being a wanted criminal and having to get others to do everything for you. Especially when you hadn't even done anything bad to warrant the attention.

Sirius grasped the handle of the wardrobe door and flung it open. What he saw surprised him. The top rail was full of Remus's clothing, which wasn't unusual, considering it was his wardrobe. The bottom rail, however, was filled with clothes that had belonged, once upon a time, to Sirius himself.

He sat down heavily on the bed, too overwhelmed with emotion to stand and dress himself. He couldn't believe that Remus had kept his clothes for so long. Fourteen years and Remus had apparently been so convinced that Sirius was coming back that he had kept everything. After everything that Sirius had done to the man, he clearly still felt something. It should have been a relief, but it had completely wrong-footed Sirius.

Pulling on a pair of his old jeans and a jumper- miles too big for him, just as the Azkaban clothes had been- he headed downstairs, his heart hammering in his chest as he wondered what to say to his old friend.

Remus looked up as Sirius re-entered the room. On seeing what Sirius had chosen to wear, Remus flushed, embarrassed that Sirius should have inadvertently caught him being so sentimental.

"Yes, I kept them, Sirius." He hesitated. "What else was I meant to do with them, no charity shop would want your flea-ridden gear now, would they?"

Sirius smiled at Remus's attempts to stay light-hearted. Taking a seat next to Remus on the sofa, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I fucked everything up for us, didn't I?"

Remus nodded, and sipped his tea.

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 20:39:33 GMT

Title: Betrayals of Youth
Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin
Rating: PG at the moment
Summary: Sirius has betrayed Remus in the worst way possible.

This is leading to a relationship between Sirius and Remus, if I can ever get around to writing some more chapters. Therefore, it will be slash. There will be NO GRAPHIC SEX IN ANY WAY, so if you're reading this to get your slash on, then you'll be disappointed. The most they'll do is kiss (with tongues! Your grandmother would be shocked!). Sorry about that, I'm a straight femlae with a squick about explicit slash.

Sirius Black was never a fan of the cold. In fact, he was one of the few inhabitants of Hogwarts who greeted snow laden days with much scowling and muttering, rather than the elated glee of most students. Arctic blizzards did nothing to excite him. The same could be said for mild chills. In fact, anything below room temperature made Sirius a very unhappy bunny indeed.

Solitude and quiet were another thing he despised. Sirius had never understood how Remus could be just as happy alone with a book, as with the other Marauders. Sirius thrived on noise. And if no one was around to make any, well Sirius just had to make his own. Loud bangs and shouting were his specialty.

So why was he sitting alone in the grounds, an uncharacteristically gloomy look on his usually handsome face?

He was in exile, that was why. The fact that it was a self-inflicted exile did nothing to lighten the weight settled on his chest. He had told Snape about Remus being a werewolf. He'd betrayed his best friend's secret, and now he hated himself for it. The worst part, he reflected, was that Remus hadn't even been angry. He hadn't screamed, or shouted, or struck out at him. Sirius almost wished he had. Anything would have been better than the hurt look on his friend's face. Remus could say more with that look than most people could in full screaming mode.

So Sirius had exiled himself. He was more like his family than he had let himself believe, he had decided. He'd betrayed a friend for his own amusement, simply because he was bored.

"Maybe I should have been in Slytherin" He muttered to himself, mutinously. "Maybe I should just go back home, marry my cousin and accept that I'm a Black through and through"

Sirius scowled again, this time angry with himself. Sitting by the lake in a bad mood wasn't going to solve anything. Nor was being too pathetic to go and find Remus and apologise. He hadn't spoken to Remus at all since he'd let the secret slip. Well, not unless you counted "Would you like some toast, Remus?" "Yes, Sirius. I would like some toast". That wasn't talking.

Casting his eyes across to the forest, Sirius' scowled deepened. He had his suspicions about where Remus would be. Yet somehow, Sirius had no desire to be devoured by flesh eating spiders, or gored by rampaging unicorns. The Forbidden Forest despised him, as he had found out in his second year during a prank that went wrong. Steeling his nerves, Sirius shook his head, trying to clear it of the fear. Rising to his feet, he made his way across the grounds. Upon reaching the edge of the forest, he broke into a run, trying hard not to think about the various, painful deaths he could experience in this place.

He saw Remus a short way in, and slackened his pace. Nervousness wasn't an emotion Sirius was used to feeling when dealing with Remus. And yet he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to approach his friend. More cowardice.

"I'm sorry, you know" he called, not daring to move any closer for fear of having to meet those accusing, amber eyes.

Remus didn't stir at the voice. He could tell that Sirius was nervous about being in the forest. However, he'd probably be alright now he was with Remus. The forest would let the wolf deal with the human. The forest recognised him for what he was, and it accepted him for it. It didn't care for humans. Much like himself right now, Remus mused. How long had he been out here? He remembered having some toast at breakfast, but that was all.

"I know you're sorry" Remus replied, not looking at Sirius. Remus knew his answer didn't give Sirius any of the things he was looking for. However, for once Remus didn't feel like being diplomatic. He didn't feel like making everything better. He didn't know things could be better, even. Snape knew the truth now, and no amount of apologies could make him forget it. And worst of all, it had been a friend who had outed him. Had it ever been real? Had Sirius just decided that having a werewolf as a friend was a bit of a laugh? A chance to amuse himself when he was bored? Maybe James had thought that as well. Maybe even Peter had...

"So how long have I been a pawn to you?" He asked, his voice hard and accusing.

Sirius blinked, "A pawn? Is that what you really think of me?" Sirius shook his head, "Never."

He sighed, and moved closer, until he was sitting a few feet away from his friend. He was such a blood moron. How could he cause so much pain to someone he cared so much about, even by accident? And yet he had done so, and it had been deliberate. This wasn't how it was meant to work. Sirius had always thought he was a good person. He put his friends first, and backed them to the hilt. Kicked the arse of anyone who tried to hurt them. When all along, it had been Sirius who had been capable of hurting them the most.

"Don't call me that!" Remus shouted, his voice echoing through the silent forest, scaring a few birds from the trees. "Moony! What a laugh! 'hey prongs, I'm a bit bored. let's go torment Snape. Full moon's coming up. Moony won't mind...he's just a stupid animal!' Is that how it was, Sirius?"

A small, shuddering sob escaped him, which shook his entire body. It hurt so much. Sirius, James and Peter had all known how much he feared being found out. They knew he couldn't hide forever, but still. All Remus had ever wanted, since he was a small child was a normal life. Since he'd arrived at Hogwarts, things had looked up. Since he'd had friends. But no, he was still a monster. A freak, who should be locked up. He was a danger to himself, and others. All Sirius had done was remind him of the fact. He'd never been anything but a monster, no matter how much he kidded himself otherwise.

"Remus…" Sirius started, before stopping.

Sirius looked up at Remus, and felt a new wave of guilt crash over him, this time tinged with pity. He wasn't used to people being angry or upset at him. Or, rather, he wasn't used to caring that people were. This, Sirius decided, was the reason for violence. If you were angry, or upset, and you hit them, you felt better. The other person wouldn't feel guilty, and everything would go back to normal. He had shared that theory with James once. James had just told him it was Sirius' way of justifying hitting Lucius Malfoy. Which, they had both agreed, didn't really need any justification at all. Sirius didn't think the theory would go down too well with Remus at the moment, but it was something to tell him another time. If there was another time.

Sirius couldn't stand to see Remus so obviously upset. Sirius just wanted to put an arm around Remus. To tell him how sorry he was, and for Remus to believe it. And so he moved across, until he was next to Remus, and did just that. The worst that could happen, he reasoned, was that Remus would push him away. Then again, that was equally likely if Sirius kept his distance.

"I don't like to see you like this. And I know it's my fault, and that you probably hate me right now, and I don't blame you. I'm sorry, not that it makes any difference"

Remus tensed as arms came around him, but he soon gave up and clung to Sirius. Right now, he just needed someone. Normally it was he who was there for everyone. Sensible, rational Remus. Reliable, and levelheaded, he was the strength. But what happened when Remus couldn't be those things anymore? When all he could be was weak. A freak.

"I tried to apologise to him" He muttered, more to himself than to Sirius, "That look...he thinks I'm a monster. I...I am a monster" He pulled away from Sirius. "It's Christmas soon. I don't think I'll be back next term. What if I hurt someone? It came so close this time, and I don't want that guilt again"

"Don't say that. You can't leave me"

Sirius hadn't meant to say the words aloud. Even inside his own head, they sounded pathetic. But then again, so was the self-pity that he'd been wallowing in for the past few days. It didn't matter how bad he felt. How much he hated what he'd done. It wasn't as though he could undo it. The past couldn't be undone, no matter how bad you felt about it. The only thing that really mattered was Remus.

Remus who now thought he was a monster. Sirius had always known how paranoid Remus was about being something hideous. It was something he had never quite understood. Remus had to be the least monstrous person he had ever met. If it were James, Sirius would quite understand the fears. James was hideous and monstrous on a daily basis. But Remus? Peter was more likely to kill someone than Remus. Besides, him and James were always around Remus when he transformed. Now Remus wanted to leave for good. And, for some reason that Sirius was slightly unwilling to admit, the idea of Remus leaving upset him more than if it had been anyone else. Hence the incredibly pathetic words that had just come tumbling out.

Remus shook his head. He wouldn't leave. He couldn't. This was the one place he had ever been at home. The one place he'd had friends, however that had turned out. The one place he had ever been accepted. Even if he was still paranoid here. No, the only other option was to go back to how things should have been. He was touched that his friends had become animagi for him, but it was wrong. His wolf wouldn't like being alone again, but he couldn't allow it to run free. Not now, when it had been such a close shave last time.

"I won't leave." he announced "But from now on I'm spending my full moons in the shrieking shack like I'm supposed to...alone."

Sirius looked darkly at his friend. What good would that do? None at all. Sirius had no idea what it was like to turn into a werewolf, but he was certain it was nothing like being an animagus. It didn't hurt him to turn into the great, bearlike dog. He didn't bite himself, scar himself. He'd actually been surprised at how easy it was. Of course there had been some moments when it had gone wrong, and those hadn't been exactly pleasant, and yet he'd been happy to do it. They all had.

"Now you're just being an idiot. What good would that do anyone?" Sirius snarled.

He was angry again, and he wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was the fact it was bloody freezing in this damned wood. He shivered slightly, well aware that he looked stupid when he did so. He pulled his robes a little tighter across his chest and ran a hand through his dark hair, sighing. Sirius hated being angry with Remus, but it was hard not to be when the other was in such a self-sacrificing mood. No one would benefit from Remus transforming alone in the shack. Remus would just go crazy, and so would everyone else.

Remus matched his friend's scowl. It was true that Sirius didn't hurt himself when he transformed. However, Sirius was still Sirius, inside that dog's body. Remus was...well, a wolf. He didn't like having Sirius angry with him, but it couldn't be helped. He slowly got to his feet.

"You look cold...let's go inside" Remus remembered that Sirius didn't really like the cold. He made no comment on his decision. Odds were he wasn't going to talk about it any time soon. Remus could be stubborn too.

He didn't like having Sirius angry with him but it couldn't be helped. He had to stay put during the full moon from now on. Having the others there wouldn't help anything. He would either take his anger out on himself or who ever was there with him. And it had taken him so long to determine that James was not food. He didn't know if the stag would be safe with him.

When they reached the edge of the forest Remus stopped walking.

"Go inside." He wasn't ready to go inside just yet.

Sirius turned to look at Remus. The other boy had his stubborn face on. Well tough, Sirius thought to himself. If Remus wants to be stubborn, then two can play at that game. And unfortunately for Remus, Sirius was a master in the art of being obstinate.

"I'm not going back until you do. And if that means us both freezing our bollocks off in the forest, then so be it" He said, looking Remus in the eyes defiantly.

He wondered fleetingly if they would both end up frozen solid out here, neither one of them giving in to the other. Probably not. He didn't think Remus would let him die. Well, he hoped he wouldn't. Sirius had no real desire to stand there until time ran out and a fiery Armageddon came to devour them both. At least the fiery Armageddon would be warm though, he mused.

"Don't be so stupid, Sirius." He scowled. "Just go inside already!"

He hadn't forgiven Sirius yet. He had still betrayed Remus. Remus was still upset with him. Maybe Remus didn't want to be around Sirius. Then, it came to him. There was one place he could go, where Sirius would never follow. In fact, he doubted Sirius had ever set foot in this place since entering the castle all those years ago.

"I'm going to the library"

Sirius scowled as Remus walked off, feeling triumphant. There was no point arguing with Remus when he was being like this. He was determined to be angry, and upset, and completely annoying. Sirius knew he wasn't forgiven yet, and that Remus had every right to be angry. But to go to the library to get away from him...well, that was just Remus being a pain in the arse.

"What exactly is it you want me to do, Remus? I've said I'm sorry, and you can't hide in the library forever!" He shouted at his friend.

It came out sounding slightly more like a threat that Sirius had intended. But it was true. Sirius knew that if he could, Remus would live in the library, coming out occasionally for toast. He sighed, before retreating back to the castle. There was no point following his friend, he'd return to the common room, and plan his next attempts.

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 20:36:40 GMT

Title: If Only
Characters: Narcissa Malfoy, mentions of Sirius Black, Bellatrix Lestrange
Rating: I'd rate this a 12 for the implication of cousin-love
Summary: Narcissa was the perfect Pureblood wife and mother. The perfect daughter. A lousy cousin though.

I love the Sirius and Narcissa dynamic, and I totally believe they could have had a relationship. This is a recurrent theme in my HP fiction, so if you do see a fic with these characters in it, chances are it's Blackcest. My apologies if you don't like that.

A solitary tear slid down a porcelain cheek as trembling hands folded the newspaper. Two lines. A name, two dates. An apology of sorts, fifteen years too late. That was always the way it was. Better late than never, they said, but was it? It might as well have been never in this case, for all the difference it would make. 'Sorry' didn't bring him back. 'Sorry' didn't make the pain go away.

Narcissa supposed she only had herself to blame for the way she now felt. After all, things could have been different. He had always been there for her, and she had thought he always would be. No matter what time, day or night, she could have gone to him, and he would have welcomed her with open arms and a joyful smile.

Except now he couldn't. Now, when she needed him the most, he couldn't be there. And no amount of apologies could change that simple fact. He was gone, and she was left behind. That had always been the way, since they were young. He had been the brave one, adventuring forward through life with an indomitable lust for the unknown, while she had remained behind, meek and mild. Subservient and demure, the perfect Pureblood wife and mother. The perfect daughter.

A lousy cousin though.

Narcissa wanted to scream. To lose her temper, let the grief flow free. And yet, she couldn't allow her frosty mask to slip. Even now, when she was more alone in the world than she ever had been before, she still couldn’t let her guard down. To do so would be to let everything out. To face her flaws, and to realise that they only person she could blame was herself.

She didn't know why she felt so empty. They hadn't seen each other for years, save a brief encounter on a visit to Azkaban. Narcissa should have put him out of her mind. She had a husband, a beautiful son and heir to the Malfoy name. She had exquisite gowns and jewellery custom made by the best designers the wizarding world could offer. What more could a woman want?

Him. The guilt, the lust, the passion that came with him. That came to her when they were alone together. He would have gone to the ends of the Earth for her, and yet she wouldn’t even have left her cost Manor.

If only she had taken him at his word. If only she had dared to run away, to leave the past behind her. If only she had been as brave as he had. If only they could have been together, in another time. If only…

Dwelling on the past would get her nowhere. Memory lane is a dead end, as her mother used to say. The Blacks strove forward, constantly facing the next hurdle. Constantly overcoming the challenges life threw at them, with a smile on their face and a thrill in their ever so perfectly pure blood.

The sound of the door closing made Narcissa jump. Scrubbing the back of her hand against her cheek, she looked around. There in the doorway stood Bella, a wild delight in her normally sullen eyes, and a smile playing across those ruby lips.

"You've heard the news, then?" She grinned.

Narcissa made a non-committal sound, yet inside her anger boiled. She knew Bellatrix had been the one behind his death, and yet she hadn't realised before how much it would hurt her. How could Bella stand there and grin, when a good, decent man was dead? When Narcissa's only hope of freedom had been destroyed, simply in the name of 'The Cause'? How could Bella smirk as her own wand lay in her pocket,

"Narcissa? Aren't you glad? Aren't you happy the filthy blood traitor got what he deserved?" Bella looked at her sister, confused as to why she didn’t share Bella's rampant joy. "Narcissa? Answer me!"

Narcissa wasn’t aware she had rise to her feet, but apparently she had. Chest tight with emotion, she flung her wineglass at her sister. The smashing sound it made as it hit the wall only irritated her further.

"You don't get it, do you, Bella?" She screamed, aware that with her wild eyes and expression she probably resembled a harpy, "I loved him. He was my one hope, my one chance to ever escape this hell you call the perfect marriage"

Bella's eyes widened. "Narcissa, don't be ridiculous. He was filth, scum."

"No, Bella. If I have to learn a lesson from this, it's that you're the scum. You're a filthy murderer and you have no place in this house. Get out"

Bella blinked. "You don't mean that, Cissa."

"Believe me, Bella. Things have never been so clear to me as they are now. Get out." Narcissa surprised even herself with the force behind her words. Her voice, before so precariously close to tears, had a calm to it that even Bella couldn't ignore.

As her sister stormed from the house, Narcissa sank back onto her chair. Propriety be damned, what she needed was a good drink. A flick of her wand summoned a lurid bottle of firewhiskey, and she poured herself a large dose. The ache would remain, but it was dulled for now. However, she couldn’t stop his voice echoing through her mind.

"It's all very well to pass the responsibility to someone else, Narcissa, but what about when there's no-one left to take the blame?"

Raising her glass, a twisted smile parted her lips. "Well, Sirius, let's see, shall we?"

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 20:33:39 GMT

Title: Blood and Wine
Characters: Narcissa Black, mentions of Sirius Black, Bellatrix Black
Rating: Apparently this has to be a 15 for references to blood, cousin-incest, and sisterly violence
Summary: Old wine and old memories were a bad comination, as far as she was concerned.

WARNING: Blackcest ahead. Mentions of sexual activity between cousins (nothing graphic, but Cissa is a bit crude)

I love the Sirius and Narcissa dynamic, and I totally believe they could have had a relationship. This is a recurrent theme in my HP fiction, so if you do see a fic with these characters in it, chances are it's Blackcest. My apologies if you don't like that.

The crimson liquid flows steadily across her shaking hand as she places the shattered wineglass down on the table. Narcissa contemplates her fingers, her thoughts slightly blurred by the alcohol. Was it blood, that polluted her skin, or merely wine? Did it matter, really? It was terrible to waste such an expensive wine, but it wasn't like Lucius couldn't spare the expense. After all, Narcissa had been drinking the stuff all afternoon.

Blood and wine were similar, Narcissa mused. Wine grew more valuable, the older it was. The richer and purer it was, the better. Much like blood. Narcissa and her family were respected because of the purity of their blood, untainted for so many generations. In marrying her husband, the two most ancient wizarding families had become forever linked.

Narcissa sighed, and rubbed her hands together. Memories had been plaguing her all day. Ever since she had heard of her husband's capture. Dammit, she was drinking to forget, not to remember. Old wine and old memories were a bad combination, as far as Narcissa was concerned.

Silent communication across the dinner table, in the most basic human way. Suggestive gestures and an expensively heeled foot trailing up a trouser leg. A cruel smile as the same heel sliced down the aforementioned leg, and a quick change of subject.

No. She wouldn't think of him. Not like that, in any case. No, she despised him.

He looked so handsome on her wedding day. Beautifully cut suit, the best the tailors could offer. A kiss charged with passion and spite and hate and lust. A declaration of love, and a promise that should have lasted forever. And yet it faded, just the same as everything else.

Rising to her feet unsteadily, Narcissa decided another bottle of wine was in order. After all, hers was only half-full. Refusing to relinquish her grasp on the dark bottle, She made her way precariously across the kitchen and down the stairs with the sort of swagger only cowboys and the very drunk could manage.

Giggling and tugging at clothes. Hurrying down the stairs to the wine cellar, to hide from the guests. Not daring to be seen by anyone, too much at stake for that. High risk and even higher pleasure. No, better be quiet. Better whisper. Better not scream, Cissa, no matter what.

At the last memory, Narcissa recoiled physically. As she did so, she felt herself lose her balance. That heart stopping moment when she realised she was about to fall was dulled slightly by the alcohol streaming through her veins. She barely felt it as she toppled down the stairs. Bang, Bang, Bang!

Flat on her back in the cellar. Just as he liked her best. A heavy weight on top of her, arms pinning her to the ground. A taste of danger in his mouth. What if we're caught? So what, let them think what they will! The guests didn't matter now. All that mattered was him and her, and their needs.

She didn't even feel the impact as she hit the floor. The bottle hit the floor hard, shattering. It really was quite beautiful, Narcissa thought, the way the shards sparkled in the dim light of the cellar. Candles flickered on the wine racks, illuminating the crimson liquid pooled by her twisted body. Perhaps it really was blood this time.

A shadow at the top of the stairs. Black against the bright lights of the kitchen. A guest, looking for the hostess, perhaps? Narcissa shrunk closer to him. A rapid heartbeat in both their chests. They mustn't be seen. No, just stay like this forever, and perhaps will themselves into invisibility.

Bellatrix's heels beat a quick tattoo on the wooden stairs. She had heard her sister call out, and rushed to answer. When she saw Narcissa's form lying prostrate on the floor, she hurried to her side and lifted up the beautiful golden head. Seeing the way he sister's eyes had clouded over, Bellatrix rolled her eyes and looked for the source of her inebriation. She tapped the shard of glass, repairing the bottle.

"Le Pin 1986 Pomerol?" She made a half-impressed sound. "My, Cissa, you do go the whole way, don't you? That's worth a hundred galleons, if a knut"

Narcissa blinked up at her sister, her mind confused. Was it the alcohol, or the fall? Perhaps she has a concussion.

"Sirius?" She moaned, reaching out for her sister clumsily.

A flicker of anger flared in Bellatrix's eyes. She raised her palm and swung it down hard against the sister's flushed cheek. Narcissa recoiled. The slap had sobered her in a way the fall had failed to do. Suddenly it became clear.

"It was you. The shadow at the stairs. You saw us. Sirius and I." Narcissa said.

"Yes, I saw" Bellatrix sneered. "Everything you have, Cissa, and you'd throw it away for a blood traitor like him. Your home, your family, your husband-"

"That's what this is about, isn't it Bella?" Narcissa spat, her mind sharp again with rage. "My husband. You can't bear that I have Lucius, when all along it was you who wanted him first. Bella the spoilt oldest child always got things first. Narcissa was left with the hand-me-downs. Even my husband, Bella!"

Bella glared, her eyes pinpricks of pure hatred. Narcissa ploughed on, glad to finally be releasing the thoughts she'd kept in for so long. "And guess what, Bella? He's had you, and still he chose me. I know. You laid it all out for him, Bellatrix, and still he chose me over you. And it kills you, doesn't it? Doesn't it eat away at you, inside?"

Bellatrix slapped her sister again, harder this time. Narcissa felt her lip split, and blood seep through the crack. The sisters had never been violent before. It was unladylike. But then again, Narcissa thought, so was seducing your little sister's fiancé. The trail of blood running down her chin was worth the rage she had put into Bellatrix.

"You know what, sister?" Bellatrix growled. "You and the blood traitor deserved each other. Now, sober up. You're disgusting"

And with that, the shadow moved back towards the door, leaving Narcissa bruised and battered on the cellar floor.

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 20:29:11 GMT

Title: Windows to the Soul
Characters: Regulus Black, Bellatrix Black
Rating: 12 for cousin-icide
Summary: People said the eyes were the windows to the soul. If that were true, then he didn't want to meet her eyes. Regulus was too afraid, too terrified of what he might see, were he to look too closely into Bellatrix's soul.

This ISNT Blackcest, although I intended to have it implied in the 'she always did scream in her sleep'. I imagine that Bella would say everything in a highly sexual and seductive tone though, so if the implication squicks you then feel free to just take it as Bella being Bella.

Regulus paced the darkened room, wringing his hands. He had never been so scared in all his life; never been so alone. He had been so confident just last night. Since then, it seemed, he had run the full gauntlet of emotions; fear, anxiety, courage and terror. Why had his courageousness chosen this moment to desert him? The proverbial eleventh hour, as it were.

He started as a soft cough came from the shadows. He didn't need to turn around, he knew who it was. After all, this was an appointment, of sorts. One by invitation, no less. And she didn't grant her audiences often these days. Not for mere minions, such as himself. Oh no, his companion had bigger fish to fry these days.

Well, so did Regulus now. And it was this concept, more than the woman in the shadows, which scared him the most. Yet, still, his heart skipped a beat as she stepped into the small pool of light that managed to struggle through the heavy curtains. The light usually fled from Bellatrix Black. Most things did, actually.

"You wanted to talk, Regulus?"

Her voice was far harsher than he remembered. How long had it been, since he last saw his cousin? It must have been longer than he had thought, for he remembered a far more seductive tone, more honey on glass than the gravel-like pitch she now seemed to possess. Perhaps she had simply screamed too many times. She always did cry out in her sleep, haunted by unseen demons.

"Indeed, Bella."

He was unable to meet her eyes. He didn't need to. People said the eyes were the windows to the soul. If that were true, then he didn't want to meet her eyes. He was too afraid, too terrified of what he might see, were he to look too closely into Bellatrix's soul.

"Well, cousin?" She snapped, impatiently. "I am a busy woman, as well you know. Say your piece and be done."

"I know how busy you are, Bella, and I apologise for taking up your time" Regulus sighed, "And yet, I'm not sorry, if every moment you spend with me is another the lambs aren't screaming."

Bellatrix made a scoffing noise, "Please, Regulus, tell me you're not feeling guilty?" She rolled her eyes, "Guilt is the past-time of the weak and the feeble."

Regulus winced at her words. She had always known which buttons to press. Oh yes, Regulus, the weak and the feeble. Regulus, who dared not stand up to his parents. Regulus, who was never quite as brave as his brother, nor as passionate as his cousins. Regulus, who meekly did his family's bidding. Regulus, the impassive.

Well, no more.

"I'd rather the guilt of the feeble, than the blood on my hands, Bella." He retorted.

Bellatrix smirked, surveying him closely. "But Regulus, darling, the blood is on your hands. We're the same, you and I. We both serve under the same colours, answer to the same Lord's calls. The only difference is that I can accept that, it is for the greater good."

"We're nothing the same, Bellatrix. We don't serve the same master anymore."

He saw the blood drain from her cheeks. The impact of his words, the meaning behind them, had clearly hit her hard. He could tell she was confused. Maybe she thought him stupid. He knew that, in her twisted mind, this was a personal betrayal. He could have insulted her mother and she wouldn't have flinched, but this? The ultimate betrayal.

"You fool, Regulus," Her voice trembled with a threatening rage, and she had to restrain herself from physically beating him. "You know what happens to those who betray our master."

"Your master, Bella." Regulus sighed, his nerves leaving him. They were replaced only with pity, and a faint disgust. "I despise you, and what you've become, and I have no desire to be a part of it anymore."

Bellatrix laughed, softly. "You do not hate me, Reggie. You will always be fond of me."

"And what makes you think that?" He asked, evenly.

Bellatrix shook her head, her glossy hair shimmering in the light. "Darling, I represent to you all the sins you have never had the courage to commit.”

He sighed, realising he was wasting his time. "I've had enough, Bella. I'm getting out, and I hope you do the same."

The suggestion made an amused smile cross Bellatrix's drawn lips. "Regulus, you don't just get out of service. Please. It’s either a lifetime of service, or you'll pay the price."

"I'm aware of that," A triumphant smile played across his lips. "After what I've done, I more than expect to pay a price."

A flicker of doubt crossed her face. He had clearly wrong-footed her. "And what have you done, Regulus?" She demanded, her voice sharp.

The smile widened, as he knew it would infuriate her. "There will come a day, darling, when your Master will have to face up to his crimes. And on that day, he will be a little more of a man, and a little less of a God."

"The horcrux?" The implications of his words hit her hard, and she visibly recoiled. "How did you know?"

Bellatrix stepped forward, her heels tapping on the floor in an urgent staccato. She gripped his shoulders, shaking him violently. He remained still, refusing to yield to her. Eventually, she lost her last remnants of control, and caught him with a hard punch to the jaw, which sent him sprawling. He had known Bella was dangerous, and certainly a little unhinged, but now it struck Regulus just how dangerous Bellatrix could be. He tried to sit up, but she was on him, crouching over his prone form, her wand pressed against his chest.

"What did you do?" She screamed, her voice breaking on the last syllable.

"You know what I did," Regulus realised his fate. He hadn't expected her to be the one to punish his crimes, but so be it. Savouring his moment, he looked up into those cold, grey eyes. Nothing. However much she screamed and shouted, Bellatrix's eyes never changed.

If eyes were the windows to the soul, then that part of Bellatrix had died a long time ago.

"You know what I did, Bella" He repeated, rolling the words on his tongue to taunt her. "I found the cave, and the horcrux." He hesitated, before grinning. "And I destroyed it."

The green light of the Avada Kedavra never lost its beauty to Bellatrix.

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 20:25:44 GMT

Title: A Thousand Times Over
Characters: Sirius Black, Narcissa Black
Rating: I'd rate this a 12 simply because it mentions cousin-incest
Summary: There are other people who could protect her

I love the Sirius and Narcissa dynamic, and I totally believe they could have had a relationship. This is a recurrent theme in my HP fiction, so if you do see a fic with these characters in it, chances are it's Blackcest. My apologies if you don't like that.

"I shouldn't even be talking to you, Sirius. Bella would go crazy, and you know it" The blonde spoke evenly, her calm demeanour somewhat contradicted by her inability to meet the boy's eyes.

"Screw Bella!" The young man growled, turning away and slamming a fist against the cold dungeon wall.

Sirius ran an agitated hand through his untidy dark hair, and exhaled deeply. Shouting at Narcissa would achieve nothing. He looked back at his cousin, their eyes meeting for a fleeting moment. He sighed, and placed a hand on her shoulder, expecting her to flinch. To pull away and shout. Sirius could deal with shouting. The unexpected was his forté, and yet something about this girl always managed to disarm him. His face softened, like it always did, as he saw the hurt in her eyes.

"Why do you pay such heed to what Bella wants?" he sighed, shaking his head.

"Without Bella, I'm nothing," Narcissa forced herself to meet his eyes, tears threatening to spill. "I'm not like you, Sirius. I'm not strong. I couldn't survive without my family. And if living under my sister's control is the price I pay for my family's protection, I'd pay it a thousand times over"

It was the truth. Or at least the truth as Narcissa Black knew it. She had climbed the Slytherin popularity ladder because of her connections to Bellatrix, and she accepted it. Without Bellatrix, she would be rotting in some corner, shunned and forgotten by the majority of her housemates. Under Bellatrix's protection, she ruled the House, second only to Bellatrix herself. Narcissa ran a hand through her golden blonde hair and looked away, unconsciously mimicking her cousin's actions.

Her head jerked as Sirius laughed harshly. "Narcissa, open your eyes. The most ancient and noble house of Black doesn't protect. And if you think it does, you're even more foolish than I thought. The Black's don't protect, they control" He paused, guilt again holding his tongue. He crouched down to meet his seated cousin's eyes. "They aren't the only people who could protect you, Narcissa"

Anger flared in those steely eyes. Narcissa despised it when he did this to her. When he got to her like this. Each word coming from those lips was like a fist, clenching her heart and squeezing as tight as it could. His logic was getting to her, and she was quickly losing her own beliefs. They could be together. Sirius wasn't like the other purebloods. He was a good person, really. She sighed, and shook her head. When she looked back up to him, any trace of sadness had left her eyes, instead replaced with pure malice.

"Protect me? Sirius, you messed up your own life, what makes you think I'd let you mess up mine?" She sneered, "Lucius can protect me. Lucius can offer me everything I've ever dreamed of and more. What makes you think I'd choose a blood traitor like you over him?"

Sirius stepped back, his face hardened once again. "You're doing a pretty good job of messing up your life without my help, Narcissa. Your father, Bella, Lucius...when are you going to take control of your own life? It's all very well to pass the responsibility to someone else, Narcissa, but what about when there's no-one left to take the blame?"

With these words, he turned on his heel and stormed away. Narcissa breathed the cold dungeon air in deeply, trying desperately to compose herself. To blink back the tears now threatening to reveal themselves. Hugging her long legs tight, dignity forgotten for the moment, she gave up the fight. Icy tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, as she mentally cursed Sirius. The truth in his words stung, but not half as much as his disgusted tone had pierced her heart.

A short way down the corridor, Sirius paused. He sighed, wishing his head would clear. Narcissa didn't give a damn about him, that much was clear to him. Everything he had risked to talk to her; the whisperings of their housemates, the dirty looks in the corridor. Apparently it counted for nothing. Sirius could feel a lump forming in his throat, and yet his pride wouldn't allow the tears to fall. Slamming his fist against another unfortunate wall, he cursed his cousin.

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 20:23:09 GMT

Title: We
Characters: the Black sisters
Rating: G
Summary: We were the originals. The pure and the Elite.

I've been told that this would better apply to Pureblood women in general, rather than the Black sisters, but I felt it summed them up more. I always pictured them as being the crème de la crème, the top of society.

We were the originals. The pure and the elite. We were the gifted, the talented and the bold. We spoke the right way; we danced in perfect time. We were young and beautiful. We were immortal and we were infinite. We would have the world, and the world would thank us for it.
We were raised to be demure and subtle. We would marry our equals and we would bear healthy sons and heirs. We would weave and sew, and play the piano to a high standard. We would live the life we wanted, and we would love it. We would be happy.
We would triumph over the Mudbloods, and we would keep our race Clean. We would wipe the smirks off their filthy faces, and we would smile as they fell. We would be the support behind our husbands, as they fought for our children and our future. We lived in a world that would be great, and we would look back in our old age and be proud of what we had achieved.
We ruled a world made of our fantasies, hopes and desires. We lived in a world that was safe and comfortable. We lived for a world that would never truly exist. We lived for the world that was denied to us. We fell as the rug was pulled from under our feet, and we stayed fallen.
We were the Black sisters and we were honoured because of it. We were united as one in youth, and we fell in unison in our dotage. We knew everything, and yet nothing at all.

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 20:20:56 GMT

Title: Peacetime
Rating: G
Summary: What peacetime means for her.

This was originally intended to be a series of short pieces on what peace would mean for each of the characters (well, the ones I hope survive). I'm a lazy devil and I actually haven't got around to doing more than this. Maybe I will sometime. Maybe not. Who knows? My exams are over, so I've lost my real excuse.

Peacetime. You often wondered what it would be like. In the occasional moments of quiet, you would sit there and bury your head in your hands. Occasionally, you'd let the tears fall, but more often than not you'd choke them back. If you broke down now, you thought, you'd never pick yourself back up.

You considered what it would be like, when the war was over. No, considered isn't the word. The thought of peacetime was all that got you out of bed in the morning. What you craved more than anything, more than the defeat of Voldemort - you still shudder at the name, even though you never used to - was stability. The sort that the boys would call dull and boring. They were fighting for the adventure; the chance to become heroes among men. But you? You just wanted the peace. No more taking each day as, and if, it came. Your greatest desire was for the long, boring reassurance that life would go on.

You ache for the life you used to lead. When books and cleverness meant the world to you, and war was a foreign notion. When an ideal day meant productive research, followed by an evening curled up on the sofa with a good, stimulating book. A time when your ideal day wasn't simply another you managed to live through.

And now you have it. Peace reins supreme, and you can have that life you wanted. And yet, it isn't quite how you imagined it would be. The books are the same as ever, but they lack that spice of life that you felt during the war. No matter how many pages you turn, the words don't mean a thing to you. What does the author of this tragic romance know of tragedy or romance?

Have they ached, like you have? Have they lost the one thing that would make their lives complete? The man they watched progress from an awkward, immature teenager, into a charming and decent man. The one man that they would be happy to spend their life with. A man who, despite how much it would irritate you from someone else, you'll tolerate their annoying habits because you love them. Their gentle teasing about your being a bookworm, and a control freak. The way they always have to lean over your shoulder, just to see what you're reading. The way they always scoff and tell you it's just another trashy novel.

What do the authors of these novels know? And what does it matter anyway? You wouldn't wish upon anyone the pain you've been through. War and death and heartbreak have no place in a trashy novel. They are real, and you read to escape reality. Reading was your one pleasure, now every page reminds you of him.

Funny, how he even manages to ruin your reading from where he is now. You often smile sadly to yourself as you finger the golden band encircling your ring finger. Ron never was one to let you read in peace, was he, Hermione?

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 20:16:25 GMT

Title: Azkaban
Characters: Narcissa Malfoy, certain male
Rating: PG? Simply because I like to use words like writhe and I'm not comfortable with that being a U.
Summary: Narcissa makes a visit to Azkaban. Post Deathly Hallows.

The slowly sinking sun sent shadows slinking across the spacious lawns. A bumblebee buzzed around a narcissus flower, as it swayed in the light evening breeze. The sweet scent of snapdragon hovered around the grounds, as the handsome hazel tree leaves rustled in the gentle breeze. Silence reigned supreme, marred only by the birdsong that seemed to come from everywhere, and yet nowhere at all.

It was almost like paradise on Earth, Narcissa mused. And yet, these were not the gardens of Eden or Tamoanchan. No, these were the grounds of the feared Azkaban. Despite being located somewhere in the North Sea; the Dementors had formed these perfect pieces of paradise to torment their pitiful prisoners. From behind their windows in their cold, cruel cells, the inmates felt every blade of lush green grass, always just achingly out of reach. Well, those that had not already bid their sanity farewell, that was.

The formidable fortress that stood tall and terrible over the great gardens was in itself the epitome of misery. Whereas the gardens provided welcome calm and thinking space for the visitors, the prison itself was enough to drive you insane.

Narcissa felt it every time she set foot in that place. Wave upon wave of cold misery crashed down upon you, getting into your very blood. Your worst memories became reality, becoming animate and far too realistic for comfort. It was like a giant beast clawing at your heart, tearing you to shreds from within. The same desperation a drowning man feels when he knows his cries are inaudible to those on the shore. No, worse. They aren't inaudible, they're just ignored.

It was a hot July day when Narcissa stepped off the ferry for this particular visit, and yet the moment she stepped into the fortress, every last shred of warmth fled her, as though the very air in this hellhole had somehow tainted her. She did not want to shiver, and let the Dementors know how uncomfortable she was, and yet she could not help it.

Taking her usual seat in the visiting room, Narcissa noted once again that she was the only visitor. She had never seen another wife or lover visiting their spouse. No reassurances and loving comfort for the men and women caged like animals in a zoo. There was no-one to tell the condemned that they would be alright, that everything was just a mistake and that they wouldn't die alone and despised in this pit.

She lifted her eyes from the cold, granite table as he was pulled into the room. His hands and feet were shackled; his normal proud and intimidating swagger replaced by an awkward shuffle. His hair had grown, it now lay long down his back. It was messed up, as though he had spent many hours rubbing his hands against his scalp, trying to drive the monsters from his mind. His eyes- oh, his eyes.

They had always been his best features, in Narcissa's opinion. Cold and grey to outsiders, they flooded with warmth and affection when he looked at her. The way his eyes creased at the sides as he smiled, and they danced when he was amused, or teasing. Now, there was nothing. They bored into her face, blank and unseeing. Any trace of emotion had long gone, they had been reduced simply tools with which to see that which tormented him, sunk deep into hollow sockets.

Narcissa took a deep breath. She knew by now that he was incapable of starting a conversation. Indeed, maintaining one was a struggle, yet she was determined to persevere whilst she still could. Give it a few months, maybe even weeks, and he would be the same as every other inmate of this place. Just an empty shell, where once stood a proud man.

"How are you, darling?" She asked, forcing herself to plaster a cheerful smile on her carefully made up face.

"The same as ever" He replied, his voice a dispassionate monotone.

"Are they feeding you?"

"Yes. Once a day. Bread and water, sometimes that piss they call water." He made a half-hearted attempt at a shrug, his shoulders twitching lethargically. "Enough to keep me dead without actually dying".

She smiled slightly. This was what she came for; the reassurance that somewhere inside, however deep, the man she knew remained. She continued making conversation with him. Idle chit-chat from the society that meant to much to her. It was almost nice to have a sounding board; someone who would listen and not criticise her loose tongue.

"…and then there's Pansy Parkinson. Just got engaged to the Nott boy. Plenty of money he has, you remember me telling you about his father? How he died from dragonpox last autumn?" She flinched as he grabbed her hand, digging his untrimmed nails into her fingers with an alarming force. "Darling?"

"I see them." He rasped, his voice gone from the bland yet human tones, to those of an animal. "Every night."

A shadow passed across her face, and she felt her heart break in two. It was already happening. He was losing his mind. She had seen it before, in Bellatrix. This was how it all began. First, they lost their sense of self, then they lose their sense of humanity. Finally, they'd lose their senses altogether. The incoherent ramblings were just the start.

"What do you see, darling?" She asked, her voice soothing.

"The Mudbloods. The Muggles. I see them every night and it kills me. Like I killed them" He groaned, his voice going up an octave. "I killed them, and I enjoyed it. They wont stop screaming!"

He was becoming agitated, and Narcissa felt a Dementor shift, as though moving in for the kill. She had to calm him, or they'd take him away from her. Take him away, just as they'd taken everyone else she had loved. There was too much emotion in him for them to resist. Although she could not see their faces, she knew they were eyeing him up as a child would a Chocolate Frog.

"Calm yourself, dear." She stroked his hand gently, as she had done whenever he had been agitated in the past. "You can get through this, I promise you."

"I see them! Every minute of the night, I see them. They twitch and they writhe and they scream. Their eyes…I can see everything and it’s all my fault. My fault…I did it. They won't forgive me! And they won't go away!" He looked her straight in the eyes, his brow twitching maniacally.

His voice became a piercing scream, and suddenly Narcissa realises that it is she who is screaming. Pushing her chair roughly back from the table, she turned on her heel and fled. It was only a short distance to the exit, and she was running as fast as she could.

Bursting out into the perfectly manicured gardens, she stops running. The ferocious beast that had been shredding her heart released its grip, allowing her to breathe once again. Bent double, her breath came in ragged gasps as she tries to regain her sanity. He was her one last hope, her one companion. Everyone else had left her, but she had still had him, until now. Now she was all alone and it killed her.

She could still hear his screams as she composed herself, only she blocked them out.

"MOTHER!" His voice resonated down the deserted halls and out through the still open door, piercing her heart yet again.

"I can't keep loving you any more. It hurts me too much. I have to let go. ". She muttered to herself, scrubbing at her cheek as tears trickled down her otherwise composed face. "I'm sorry, Draco."