#callistothebard

Rating: M for safety. dark content. Warnings: implied dubcon, blood, implied knifeplay

Pairing: Bellatrix Lestrange x Hermione Granger

A slight continuation of my previous oneshot/short fic "Entwined"

written for sapphicmicrofics prompt "nightmare"

word count: <500

Hermione felt her sides constrict as she ran. Her legs felt like lead as her feet pounded into the gravel. She was wheezing, trying to suck in as much air as she could. Her body was on fire, white-hot needles prickling every one of her pours. She pushed herself to the end, but it was useless–she still heard Bellatrix Lestrange's grating cackle behind her.  

She just needed to get to the clearing. She just needed–

She felt herself stop abruptly but not of her own accord. The spell shot through her like fiendfyre. 

Bellatrix was behind her now – she could feel her hot breath on the back of her neck. 

“You think you can run away from me?” She heard her say. “How many times do I have to tell you, muddy–”

She felt the woman’s nails dig into her forearm.

“You belong to me.”

“No, no,” Hermione jerked awake. Her sheets were soaked in sweat and urine. She gasped as she felt a heavy body beside her. It stirred, turned, and snored. 

She caught her breath, trying to ground herself. “Shit.” She breathed out. 

She pulled the soiled sheet tightly, ensuring not to wake John…or was it Jake? She couldn’t care if she was honest. They all blurred together by now.

She stumbled into the washroom, dropping the sheet in the bin.

She reluctantly looked in the mirror, knowing precisely what she’d find. The scars. Her body was almost covered with them. She ran a shaky hand down her neck and in between her breasts, feeling the slightly healed bumps beneath her fingertips. She shuttered as she traced the long, jagged scar circling her torso and stopping short of her thigh where a small crude B  had been carved into her. She let out a small gasp at the memory.

Bellatrix had scars of her own –an H marked at the apex of her thigh. 

“You did what was necessary to survive,” she murmured, rubbing her mark. “You told her what was necessary.” She closed her eyes as she dared to move her hand up her thigh. “You felt what was necessary.”

Hermione’s hands jolted to a halt as the washroom doorknob rattled. “Kathryn?” Jake’s muffled voice carried over to her. “Katie, come back to bed.” 

“Yeah.” She said hoarsely. She cleared her throat. “Just a minute.” 

She heard him shuffle back to bed. Her heart was pounding again, and she felt the bile rise up in her belly. Her hand shot up to her mouth, stifling a sob. “No.” She cried. “No.”

You did what was necessary to survive.

You made her scream. You adored her. 

You worshiped her. You welcomed the same.

To survive.

To survive.

All to survive.

Warnings: grief, slight blood

Pairing: Narcissa x Lily

I had this idea, but it might have gotten away from me a bit. Hopefully not too OOC

word count: <1,000 not a short fic sorry

written for @sapphicmicrofics prompt "Title" and "Bleeding"

She was used to waking up alone these days. Her wife has a habit of late bar runs that turn into early morning regrets. Lily clutched the untouched bedding beside her before slipping on her night robe and heading out of the bedroom. 

She knew the routine by now. She would brew a tonic, grab the prophet and the daily mail, and wait. She’d always wait for her…

Lily froze as she heard a bang from the study room, “Cissa?” She called out. 

Nothing. Nothing but another crash.

Her heart quickened as she strained to hear. She cursed herself for leaving her wand in the bedroom drawer. A piercing wail tore through the manor, making Lily’s heart lurch.

She quickly reached the double doors and opened the study with trembling hands. “Cissa!”

Lily froze at the sight before her– countless books scattered across the floor, scores of potions, and Narcissa hunched over her desk, chanting.

“Honey?” Lily took a few steps into the room. Her hair stood on her arms as she felt faint remnants of dark magic around her. “Honey, what happened?” 

She reached out to Narcissa, who jerked away. “Leave me.”

Now that she was closer, she could see the dried streaks, the red eyes, and the pain etched on her wife’s face. It broke her. “Cissa, talk to me–”

“Either leave or help me!” Narcissa snapped, throwing the book across the room.

“I can’t help you if you don't tell me what is wrong–”

Lily stumbled as Narcissa pushed past her and haphazardly searched the bookshelves. “Useless.”

She saw her wildly flip through book after book, each seemingly upsetting Narcissa more and more. “Useless!” She screamed. “There has to be something.”

“Please, honey.” Lily tried again. She grabbed Narcissa’s hand but quickly released it when she saw the large gash etched in her pale skin. “Narcissa.” She said firmly. “What in Godric’s name…”

Narcissa shook her head, holding in tears. “I need to find it.”

Realization hit Lily as she stared into the older woman’s eyes. “I know you do. But, this…” She held up Narcissa’s bloody hand. “This isn’t the way–”

“Then what is!” She countered.

“You have to let the doctors–”

“Don’t start with that.” Narcissa went back and looked through the bookshelf.

“Cissa.” 

Nothing.

“Narcissa!”

“Gods! Why can’t I find it? We are witches, for goodness sake. I’m a Black. Of all the godforsaken spells, why can’t I find anything to help her. To…to just…to save her. Why?”

Lily watched as her wife broke down, throwing another stack of books across the room. She looked down and read the book's title.

Tenebris mortem: The Ancient Workings Dark Arts

“This isn’t the way to do this, Narcissa! You’re playing with unspeakable magic!” Lily pleaded, taking hold of the blonde. 

“Then she will die! Do you want that?” Narcissa yelled. “You stand there, calm and composed, as if her suffering means nothing to you. Do you even care about our daughter?” Narcissa took hold of Lily and pushed her against the shelf. “You’ve abandoned her.” She raises her hand, allowing Lily to see the gash clearly. It radiated dark magic. “I would give anything, absolutely anything, to spare her from this, but you'd rather bury your head and pretend that everything is going to be okay!”

“I’m trying my best–”

“And where did it get us? Where did it get our daughter? Your best? Your best got her–”

And there it was…the blame. 

Lily shook her head, not allowing the tears to fall. “You have no idea the hell I endure every single night, lying awake, afraid of losing her. I’m terrified. I’m terrified of making the wrong decision.”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Lily. I’m–”

And there goes the apologies. 

“No. You meant what you said.”

“I didn’t. Please–”

“You don’t think I blame myself? It’s my gene. It’s my blood.” Lily cursed herself as she began to cry. She jerked away as Narcissa tried to comfort her. 

She let out a long breath, trying to calm her nerves. “Your brew is ready downstairs,” she said simply. 

“Lily–” Narcissa tried.

“Don’t.” Lily moved away. “Drink your brew. Get some rest.” She said coldly. 

Lily quickly wiped her tears away, “I will not let you make my child suffer at the hands of dark magic. This,” she pointed to the book, “This comes with consequences. I'd rather hold our little girl close, cherishing every second we have left with her.”

Lily made her way to the double doors. She glanced at her wife, then left, slamming the door behind her. 

She was exhausted. She was broken. She was scared.

She was used to waking up alone.

HEAVY TW: murder, suicidal imagery

Word count: < 300

prompts used: March 5 Impossible, March 6 Bridge

for @sapphicmicrofics

..........

Another victim. Another rope. Another body hanging from the same damn bridge.

Hermione watched as the man was pulled safely onto the deck.

"A lot of rookies would have drowned out by now." Inspector Ridge huffed out, blowing smoke from his nostrils.

Hermione nodded.

"The shock didn't hit you yet. It will." He claps her roughly on the shoulder. "Gather your wits and come with me to examine the vic."

Her stomach turned as she saw the body. The victim's neck was twisted unnaturally, dangling lifelessly to the side. Upon his skin, deep gouges marred his cheeks, arms, and torso. His nails were chipped and dry.

Ridge knelt and pointed his gloved hands to the victim's back. "Sick bastard." She heard her partner mutter.

As her eyes fell upon the crude marks on the victim's back, her stomach churned with bile, a sickening realization knotting in her gut. It was her. She was sure of it.

"Wilkins?" Ridge called out to her.

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat like a blade poised at her jugular. She took a step back, then another, and another until her legs hit the bridge railing.

She could feel the pull of magic. She could feel a hint of her. She thought she escaped. She moved across the entire world for fucks sake. Got a new name. A Muggle job. She was so sure she had finally…

Hermione rubbed her thumb over her forearm; even through the latex, she felt it.

"Wilkins, you alright?" She strained to hear him. "Talk to me, kid." She felt him reach out to her, pulling her back into a world she desperately wanted to flee from.

Her mouth was cotton. She could only stare at the bloody scars etched on the man's back…

Warnings: murder

Ship: Mrs. Zabini x Bellatrix Lestrange

Word count: 256

Prompt: Accident

for @sapphicmicrofics

It was an accident. It was an accident. It was an accident.

Maybe if she said it enough times in enough ways with enough gravity, the police would believe it. She might even believe it.

She was merely defending herself; she would tell them. He came home drunk and full of sin. She had no choice.

They would understand, wouldn't they? She was only doing what was necessary. It was her or him.

Yvette looked into the mirror, catching a glimpse of the body slumped on the bedroom floor, and her stomach tightened.

He was a good man—a dull man, but a good man nonetheless. He didn't deserve it, but what choice did she have?

He was supposed to have been out of town. He was supposed to have been sucking up to his godforsaken boss and not coming home to see her in such a position.

Her hand trembled as she fixed her makeup in the mirror.

He would have understood. If she had told him about the affair beforehand, he would have understood. The man was a forgiving soul. He was a fool for love—a fool for her.

It was all his fault. 

It was his fault.

“It was an accident.” She heard herself say. 

She turned around, laying eyes on her lover, who was carefully rolling her dead husband’s body into the soiled rug. 

“It was an accident, right?” She asked the woman. 

They’ll believe me, right?

written for @sapphicmicrofics prompt "field"

Narcissa hated the rain. She hated the mud. She hated the screaming men painted in green and gold and the obnoxious referee and the–

“You’re scowling.” She heard her girlfriend say. 

Narcissa glanced at the redhead and flared her nostrils. “I wasn’t scowling. I just…” She waved a hand out to the field. “You should be the one out there.” 

Ginny nudged Narcissa on the shoulder with her crutch. “I know, but there’s always next year.”

Narcissa looked out at the pitch as Theodosia Leti, the Harpies' newest chaser, scored another goal. She rolled her eyes, “Look at her. I should go and give her a piece of my mind after the match. She’s the reason why you’re in that god-awful cast.” 

“It was an accident. Besides, I do want to be able to play next year. I can’t do that if you curse the team captain, can I?” Ginny raised her eyebrows. 

“I could make it untraceable,” Narcissa countered. 

Ship: Lily Evans x Narcissa Malfoy

Warning: child loss, grief

Word count: 62

No tears. No screams.

She’s used to it by now.

“There will be another. It’s my duty to bear an heir for him.” Bitterness.

“Cissy-”

Narcissa squeezes Lily's hand. “No.”

No time for mourning.

Lily holds her while they watch the parchment burn away the inked name - “Ursa”.

“There will be another.”

She doesn’t believe it.

No tears. No screams. No healing.

September 12: Scars

Dorcas squeezed her eyes shut, battling exhaustion. "I can't sleep," Dorcas confessed, before leaning her forehead against the cold bathroom mirror.

Lily smiled softly. "Then let's stay awake together," she whispered.

Dorcas opened her eyes, but only saw her own scarred face staring back, haunting her.

written for @sapphicmicrofics

May 18 Prompt “Murder” Ship: Daphne Greengrass x Bellatrix Lestrange Warnings: Cross-Gen Rating: M Wordcount: 50

Daphne feels a hand trace the fresh dark mark on her arm. “Don’t fret. It will get easier with time.” The dark witch bites her neck. “I’ll teach you, my sweet.” Daphne turns away from the bloody and mangled bodies beside her as Bellatrix kneels. “I’ll teach you everything.”