Where the wizards bite back

Title: The Fair and Gentle Sisters Black
Author: graylor
Pairing: Narcissa Malfoy/Gabrielle Delacour
Rating: R
Warnings: femmeslash, blood play, vampirism (obviously), slightly purple prose
Disclaimer: I make no money from this: Narcissa and Gabrielle are borrowed for fun from their creator, JK Rowling.
Original request: Missing her son Draco, Narcissa takes on young Gabrielle as a protégé and soon falls in love - enough to teach her new beloved an old Black family secret...
Cool things: Corsets, perfume, moonlight, biting of breasts and thighs
Squicks: I don't want any het, scat, angst or unhappy endings. (Submitted by sweetcarolanne)


The Fair and Gentle Sisters Black

Narcissa let the moonlight slide over her pale shoulders. Dubh Grange, the Black hunting lodge, was far quieter than ever the Manor had been. She tried not to think of the Manor, for thinking of the Manor meant thinking of the War and its casualties.

Here, away from the ruins of the life she had been expected to live, she enfolded herself in silence as she stepped into the uncertain realm of a new world.

A flash of pale hair in the courtyard quickened her heart... and it remained quickened, even as she realized that it was not—could not have been—Draco. Draco, her precious child, who had inherited too much of the Black blood and who had burned while Harry Potter looked on in horror.

Narcissa closed her eyes. It would not do to think of what had been. Draco, Potter, the Dark Lord—all were phantoms, ghosts belonging to her old life. She had ordered her life at the behest of others—marrying Lucius, serving the madman...

No more. No more even if heaven fell.

The thought that heaven truly might fall for what she planned to do just gave it a sweeter taste.

*

“Gabrielle. Home so early.”

The young woman ducked her head, gracious and quick in her ball gown. “There was better company to be found elsewhere. I knew zis, so I came to you.”

“Indeed,” Narcissa said archly. Oh, it had been a maddening dance. Gabrielle, so unlike her dutiful sister Fleur. Gabrielle, who wanted a life only great wealth could bring. Gabrielle who wished to become the greatest courtesan of her age, to the scandalized shock of her family...

Gabrielle, the fair, who was so like Draco in her earnestness and will to learn that it nearly broke Narcissa’s heart.

Gabrielle, wise in her own way, had presented herself as Narcissa’s companion when the grieving mother had announced her retirement from society. Narcissa had not been indifferent, even them, though she had feigned such coldness for a seemly time.

Slowly, she had built on Beauxbaton’s education and Gabrielle’s innate grace. This was how to command the attention of every man in a room—this was how to attract the women. This was how to be fashionable and yet also timeless—seemingly without effort.

Gabrielle had come from the continent a raw beauty: now she was a lady, almost ready to step out into the world on her own.

Sighing, Narcissa offered her protégé her arm. “Let us talk, then, my dear.”

*

Narcissa’s suite had a certain rustic charm, in its heavy velvets and saddened colors. By candlelight and moonlight Gabrielle doubtless perceived it as shades of grey.

“You are ready to fly, my dove,” Narcissa said after they were both seated. She allowed herself to relish the sound of Gabrielle’s heavy skirts—how many years had she denied herself even the thought of another woman’s touch?

“Do you not mean we are ready, madame?”

Narcissa laughed. “I am far too old to be so daring, child. Hush, I am old enough to be your mother.”

“You do not look it and who is to tell you to be quiet and make no stir? Monsieur Malfoy grieves too deeply and who is left for you to scandalize but fools otherwise?”

“Leave me to my shadows, child. Shh, I wish to tell you secrets before we must part.”

Gabrielle stood suddenly and marched to stand before Narcissa. “No, madame; I will not be silent for you this night. There are secrets I will learn of you. We both burn for this, non?” With that the young woman dropped to her knees, graceful despite her corset. She stroked Narcissa’s bare ankle reverently.

Narcissa pushed her away. “Gabrielle, this is part of the secret. Do not make such faces at me! Patience, my child—patience and knowledge are all you will need to be invincible in whatever city you might claim.”

Gabrielle sank back on her heels. Her movements brought the faintest whiff of her perfume to Narcissa's nose. Heavy roses—so trite, so cliché, and, yet, so perfect.

“Gabrielle, do you want to be greatest courtesan of this age? Never to wither, never to fade?”

Gabrielle’s pale eyes fixed on Narcissa’s. “I am not certain what you mean,” the young woman said slowly.

Narcissa couldn’t bear it. That perfect face, inevitably ravaged by time; that fine hair, gone white and rough with age. This precious soul, lost to the grave—it was do this or bolt. She stood and offered a hand to Gabrielle. “Let me teach you.”

It was easy to let Gabrielle push her gown off Narcissa’s shoulders; to gather Gabrielle’s heavy skirts into great mounds of silk. Gabrielle had attempted to bring Narcissa into such embraces countless times before, but always care had stayed Narcissa’s hand. Now, they were close enough to equals for it not to matter.

“Gabrielle, ma cherie, would you live forever?” Narcissa asked, one hand pressed against the damp silk of Gabrielle's pants, the other braced on the luxurious velvet of the bed.

“Oui. Yes, Narcissa, oui.”

Narcissa drew back her lips, revealing her two tiny fangs, reminders of some distant Black’s love for those of the night. “And now, do you say the same?”

“Oh, yes—please—” Gabrielle shuddered as she stared at Narcissa’s fangs, as if already imagining them plunging into her, making her bow to another’s will.

“As you will, my darling. As you will.”

She began by kissing Gabrielle’s corset-mounded breasts. So sweet, so tempting, with their blue veins running just below the surface, her young heart thudding through them. Steeling herself for patience, Narcissa lowered herself between Gabrielle’s spread thighs and licked at the musky wetness she found there. Gabrielle whined in the back of her throat and tried to remove her underthings—but Narcissa easily pushed aside her hands. It was sweeter through silk, she felt, at least the for the time being. Seeing her protégé—her lover—laid bare before her might make her too hasty to act, and this... this was an act to be savoured.

She licked and purred and caressed, teasingly slipping fingers around the leg bands, barely letting her fingertips brush the thin gold hair which lurked there. Pressing open the flower she dared not let herself see, she summoned Gabrielle’s pleasure. Gabrielle squirmed and twisted, moaned and writhed against such restrained affection.

When Narcissa pressed her teeth into the river of blood running beneath Gabrielle’s thigh, the girl gasped and seized Narcissa’s hair by the handful.

Narcissa—tasting this sweet nectar she’d longer for so long—ignored this and fed while Gabrielle arched her way towards orgasm.

When the tremors had passed through them both, Narcissa licked the wound closed and crawled up Gabrielle’s body. “No, my darling, no time for sleep yet. I cannot give you all that goes with true vampirism, merely this shadow which runs through my bloodline... But we must do it as the vampires of old.” Narcissa tore her own breast and pressed Gabrielle’s face to the wound.

Gabrielle drank, claiming the pale mound of Narcissa’s breast as if it was hers to possess. And, in truth, it was.

*

“Have you ever seen anything so magnificent?” one wizard asked another in the brilliantly lit Parisian ballroom.

“They say they’re closer than sisters ought to be,” his companion whispered, a wealth of salacious envy in his words.

One of the women under their observation eyed them and whispered something to the other. This was plainly pornographic in its simplicity and caused flushes around the room.

“They say there’s always been two Black sisters, all the way back to Voldemort’s War.”

“More than a century? You’re drunk, man,” the more sober wizard huffed.

In the edge of the light, the fair and gentle ladies smiled.