Dark Witches

Community Dilemma

scarletladyy — Sat, 22 Apr 2017 23:24:32 GMT

We have a bit of a dilemma, in that we only received 22 prompts for our 2017 Dark Witches fest. I don't want to put on a fest that nobody is interested in, so I thought I'd ask the community what they thought the best course of action was. Since the fest hasn't run since 2013, I think the problem is that we haven't got a lot of the newer people to fandom.

I'd be very grateful if you could take part in this short poll :)

View Poll: What should we do about the fest?

Any and all comments will be very much appreciated ♥

Dark Witches 2017: Prompting Post!

scarletladyy — Sat, 01 Apr 2017 21:30:02 GMT

PROMPTING IS OPEN!

Welcome to the 2017 darkwitches prompt fest! We are a Harry Potter fic and art fest focusing exclusively on dark femmeslash pieces. All femmeslash pairings are welcome. This is our prompting post!

Prompting Rules
♥ There is a limit of 10 prompts per person.

♥ You do not have to claim a prompt in order to submit one, or vice versa.

♥ When submitting prompts, please make sure you only have one prompt per post.

♥ Prompts can be pairing specific, or you can just put 'any'.

♥ There are three restrictions: real person fiction (RPF), crossovers and underage characters in sexual situations (under 16 being underage).

♥ Please remember that prompts are guidelines only, and your prompt may not be filled exactly as requested. Please try not to submit prompts that are too specific or detailed.

♥ Prompts can be claimed ONCE for fic and ONCE for art.

The definition of dark subject matter used for this fest is:
Psychological trauma, non-consensual sexual situations, major angst, tragedy, abuse, grief, drug use, horror, violence, torture, pure evil, good intentions gone wrong, Voldemort-Wins, Death Eater and/or Azkaban scenarios and so on, for I'm sure there are many more that I haven't even thought of yet. Ratings are usually PG-13 or above.

Note: Consensual BDSM and role-play fics alone are not dark, for the women are consenting. However, they are perfectly welcome if they are included in a piece that has clear dark elements in it.

The full list of fest rules can be found here.

Pimping

If you'd like to pimp the fest, please use the following banner via the textbox below! We'd be very grateful :)

Come and get your dark femmeslash fix at darkwitches!
Prompting is now open!

Let's get to actually prompting!

To prompt, please use the following form:

Prompting closes on the 14th April, and the claiming post will be put up on the 17th April. You will have a chance to peruse prompts before claiming opens! Any questions, please either PM me directly or email the fest account darkwitchesfest@gmail.com.

Dark Witches Rules 2017

scarletladyy — Fri, 31 Mar 2017 22:45:50 GMT

Welcome to darkwitches 2017! We are a Harry Potter fic and art fest focusing exclusively on dark femmeslash pieces. All femmeslash pairings are welcome. All works you see here will contain material that is unsuitable for those under the age of 18.

2017 Timeline
Prompting: 1st - 14th April
Claiming: 17th April
Submissions due: 1st July
Posting starts: 10th July

Rules
♥ All participants must be over the age of 18 at the time of signing up.

♥ All submissions must focus heavily on at least one femmeslash pairing and one dark subject matter.

♥ The minimum word count is 1,000 words and artwork must be finished. If your fic is too long for a LJ post (10,000 words), please split it yourself and make sure each part has a header (even if it is just as simple as 'Part One' or 'Part Two').

♥ Fic and art must be fresh and new, written and drawn especially for this fest. No recycled fic/art or WIPs allowed, and no fics that are part of an existing series or universe. Please do not hand in a short, unbetad fic, a sketch, a photo-manipulation or a fanvid.

♥ There are three restrictions: real person fiction (RPF), crossovers and underage characters in sexual situations (under 16 being underage).

♥ Fics must be beta read and coded. Having your fics Britpicked is preferable but not a requirement (if you would like one, please ask, as I am very happy to Britpick for you). Fics must be exactly that: a work of fiction, so please don't turn in poetry or song lyrics. If you are unable to find a beta, please contact me and I can try and help you out.

♥ Please make sure that any artwork submitted is unsigned, to comply with the anonymity of the fest. After the fest is over, we can swap it for a signed version if you would like.

♥ This fest is anonymous, so you should not tell anyone (other than your betas) the prompt you have chosen, nor should you post your work anywhere else until the Master List has been posted.

♥ Please provide me with an email you check regularly. No LJ-based emails.

♥ If you think you need an extension, please contact me as soon as possible. I am happy to grant them as long as you are committed to finishing your submission.

Failure to adhere to the rules may mean your exclusion from the fest.

The definition of dark subject matter used for this fest is:
Psychological trauma, non-consensual sexual situations, major angst, tragedy, abuse, grief, drug use, horror, violence, torture, pure evil, good intentions gone wrong, Voldemort-Wins, Death Eater and/or Azkaban scenarios and so on, for I'm sure there are many more that I haven't even thought of yet. Ratings are usually PG-13 or above.

Note: Consensual BDSM and role-play fics alone are not dark, for the women are consenting. However, they are perfectly welcome if they are included in a piece that has clear dark elements in it.

Prompting Specific Rules

♥ There is a limit of 10 prompts per person.
♥ You do not have to claim a prompt in order to submit one.
♥ When submitting prompts, please make sure you only have one prompt per post.
♥ Prompts can be pairing specific, or you can just put 'any'.
♥ Please remember that prompts are guidelines only, and your prompt may not be filled exactly as requested. Please try not to submit prompts that are too specific or detailed.

Your mod for this fest is scarletladyy, so please feel free to contact me either via this post (comments are not screened), the fest email, which is darkwitchesfest@gmail.com, or PM if you have any questions.

HP Horror Fest!

scarletladyy — Sat, 28 Jan 2017 19:16:33 GMT

Our lovely affiliate, hp_darkarts, is having their annual HP Horror Fest! They're currently prompting, so head on over there and leave them some lovely dark prompts!

hp_darkarts

Prompting: 22 January to 3 February
Claiming: 6 February
Submissions: 3 April
Posting: From 25 April

Dark Witches 2017!

scarletladyy — Sun, 08 Jan 2017 18:14:03 GMT

I'm happy to announce that darkwitches is returning this year for it's third round! There is one major change, and that's the style of the fest. The last two fests were exchange fests, however I think this time we'll try it as an anonymous prompt based fest.

As such, the timeline is as follows:

Prompting: 1st - 14th April
Claiming: 17th April
Submissions due: 1st July
Posting starts: 10th July

Rules and pimping banners will follow in the next few weeks. I really hope you'll join me for this year's fest!

Pimping: HP Horror Fest

writcraft — Mon, 02 Feb 2015 20:14:06 GMT

We would love for you to bring your dark femslash to HP Horror Fest. Prompting has been extended for another week, so please do come along and leave some prompts and keep an eye on the comm for claiming. Enjoy!

HP Dark Ages - Claiming Is Open!

scarletladyy — Thu, 06 Mar 2014 21:09:04 GMT

darkwitches is pleased to announce a brand new affiliate - hp_darkages!

artwork by RowenaJackson

It's a brand new fest focusing on the dark and angsty side of pairings with an age disparity, and they've just opened claiming! All pairings have a 10 year age disparity and there are loads of lovely prompts to choose from, so you should hope on over there and check them out!

Hump Madness 2014!

scarletladyy — Thu, 13 Feb 2014 03:33:12 GMT

Our lovely affiliate, hp_humpdrabbles, has announced Hump Madness 2014 and opened sign-ups!

hp_humpdrabbles presents Hump Madness 2014
RULES ♥ FAQ ♥ SIGN UP

It's a really fun and unique competition, sort of like a much larger LDWS, inspired by one word prompts allowing for a variety of characters and pairings :D If you like a good time, you should definitely check this out! :D

Pimping: HP Horror Fest 2014

writcraft — Fri, 07 Feb 2014 09:20:44 GMT

Are you looking for an excuse to write more dark femmeslash before the Darkwitches exchange fest? If so, then come and check out the delicious prompts at Horror Fest and leave us a few more! Prompting closes on 8 February and claiming opens 10 February.

Femmefest 2014!

scarletladyy — Mon, 20 Jan 2014 04:13:56 GMT

Our lovely affiliate, femmefest, is currently holding sign-ups for their 2014 fest!

femmefest ♥ femmefest ♥ femmefest

Banner takes you straight to the sign-up page :) It's your last chance to take part, as sign-ups close tomorrow on Monday 20th January!

They are another of the very few femmeslash-centric fests for Harry Potter, so as femmeslash HP fans (and as they always produce absolutely wonderful fic and art), what are you waiting for?! Go and sign-up! :D

Master List: The Reveal 2013!

scarletladyy — Sun, 15 Dec 2013 14:04:34 GMT

All good things come to an end, and this is the end of our second year of darkwitches. It's been another wonderful year with an even bigger variety of pairings, and the quality has been astounding.

Participant usernames have been added to all the entries, so you're now free to post your gifts elsewhere and reply to their comments!

The most popular pairing was Bellatrix/Narcissa, who was the only pairing to have two fics written for it. Every other pairing was entirely unique. Talk about variety! The most popular character was Pansy for a second year running, featuring in five gifts, while Bellatrix, Hermione, Ginny and Narcissa were our second most popular characters, featuring in three gifts each (the first three were our second most popular characters last year, too!).

I want to say thank you to everyone who participated, from the creators to the readers, and an even bigger thank you to nearlyconscious, amorette and deslea, our pinch hitters! When pinch hitters were required, many people offered, so I want to say thank you to you guys too as I'm very grateful :)

Stay tuned, as there will a surprise for all participants coming soon! :)

So without further ado, here are the reveals! Gifts with an asterisk (*) at the end of them were completed by a pinch hitter.

_afterism wrote A Cry Before Battle for The Community

arjd wrote I Shut My Eyes and All the World Drops Dead for The Community

chokolattejedi wrote Loved Out of Sight for stephaniejo84

deslea drew Coming Home for amorette *

dexstarr wrote Hope is a Four Letter Word for writcraft

flipflop_diva wrote Let Me Say I'm Sorry (Now, Before You Go) for leontinabowie

flyingharmony wrote The Nightingale That Refused To Sing for reg_flint

leontinabowie wrote Trapped on the Outside for pretty_panther

amorette wrote and drew Revenge and Ruffles for _afterism

amorette wrote Teacher's Pets for dexstarr *

nearlyconscious wrote Chasing Ghosts for flyingharmony *

pretty_panther wrote Echoes of War for flipflop_diva

stephaniejo84 wrote A Matter of When for arjd

reg_flint wrote Sisters Most Snakelike for The Community

writcraft wrote and drew They Withered All for chokolattejedi

Thank you to you all! It's been a fantastic second fest. I hope to see you back here next year! ♥

Week Three Round Up 2013 and End of Posting!

scarletladyy — Thu, 12 Dec 2013 00:09:18 GMT

Monday 9th December: Teacher's Pets for dexstarr
[Pansy, Daphne, Alecto, R] What happened to all the girls when Alecto Carrow asked them to stay after class?

Tuesday 10th December: The Nightingale That Refused To Sing for reg_flint
[Bellatrix/Narcissa, past Andromeda/Narcissa, PG-13] With the loss of her sister, Narcissa also loses her voice.

Wednesday 11th December: Let Me Say I'm Sorry (Now, Before You Go) for leontinabowie
[Pansy/Bellatrix, Pansy/Hermione, NC-17] In a world where Lord Voldemort reigns, Pansy knows she has to do whatever it takes to survive. But she never expected the cost to be this high.

Please leave feedback for our lovely authors and artists :)

So that's it, guys! With the gift posted earlier this evening, posting is now complete! Once again the quality of the gifts was amazing, and I think we had more variety this year, too.

The Master List will be posted on Sunday 15th December, so you have a few more days to catch up on everything you've missed :) The fest will remain anonymous until the Master List is posted, so if you're a participant, please don't reply to comments or post your gift anywhere else until then.

For a quick and easy way to see all the gifts posted this year, check out our round-ups:
♥ Week One
♥ Week Two

See you on Sunday 15th December for the reveals! ♥

Let Me Say I'm Sorry (Now, Before You Go) - a gift for leontinabowie!

scarletladyy — Wed, 11 Dec 2013 23:27:46 GMT

Title: Let Me Say I'm Sorry (Now, Before You Go)
Author: flipflop_diva
Recipient: leontinabowie
Pairing(s): Pansy/Bellatrix, Pansy/Hermione (background Pansy/Draco)
Word Count: 2,269
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Implied torture, slavery, implied dub-con, adultery, profane language, slightly graphic sex, canon character death
Summary: In a world where Lord Voldemort reigns, Pansy knows she has to do whatever it takes to survive. But she never expected the cost to be this high.
Author's Notes: Thank you to Fairy for beta'ing this for me, for running this amazing fest and especially for not murdering me when I tell her I need just a little more time. You are amazing, bb <33 And to leontinabowie, I hope you enjoy this. It was definitely not the story I set out to tell, but it was the one that demanded to be told.

March 1998

Hermione's screams echo through the manor, seeming to seep through every door and every wall and into every room, as Bellatrix carves deeper and deeper into her skin.

The others sit back, watching, not moving or caring, but waiting.

Bellatrix carves deeper and Hermione screams louder. Until her screams die off, fading into the night as quickly as they started.

Her body goes limp, her head dips forward.

And then it happens. Commotion from the basement, a thunder of shoes coming up the stairs, and everyone's eyes turn toward the parlor door.

Except Bellatrix, because she knows what is about to happen.

"HERMIONE!" Ron screams. Even his voice sounds on the edge of panic as he bursts through the door.

Bellatrix merely laughs.

"You will never see her again!" she screams, and as Ron stumbles toward her, Harry right behind him, the CRACK! of Bellatrix's apparition sounds through the manor.

Hermione is gone.

Ten years later

Pansy waits patiently until she is sure her husband is gone before slipping her dark cloak on and pulling the heavy hood over her head. She knows Draco won't be coming home tonight. "Late meeting," he had told her, but she knows he's really fucking his little hussy in the city.

Pansy isn't stupid. She is anything but, really. She is the most intelligent person in the room most days. She has to be. It's the only thing that has kept her alive this far, has kept her and Draco free and, most importantly, has kept her alive.

She knows Hermione has wished she were dead for a long time, has eagerly awaited the day that it happens, but still Pansy is not ready to give her up.

So Pansy slips her dark cloak on and Apparates away from her home to a dank, dark alley in the middle of nowhere.

There is no sound. There is no light. To anyone — Muggle or wizard — passing by, it is nothing but a deserted alley in a deserted town, full of broken homes and fallen trees and cracked headstones. The air always feels heavy here, oppressive, like the hopes and dreams of the people who all died here in pursuit of a freedom they were never able to achieve are now pressing in on anyone who dares to venture through the place they once called home.

Pansy doesn't like the chill in the air, but she has long grown used to it. She keeps her hood up, although there is no one within hundreds of miles, and marches forward, down the deserted alley, through another one and on and on until she reaches her destination.

From the outside, it's a broken-down little house on the edge of an abandoned town. At one point, it belonged to a witch and wizard who were loyal to the wrong side.

But not anymore.

Pansy pushes open the door and creeps in. The front rooms are all dark and the floorboards creak as she shuffles through them and down a long hall, until she finds the only lighted room in the place.

The kitchen is a far cry from the rest of the house. It is almost warm, almost cozy. A fire burns in the corner, and lanterns cast a soft yellow glow over everything.

She is sitting at the tiny table, obviously waiting for her.

She doesn't say a word, just stares at her with those cold, calculating eyes, and gestures for her to come close.

Pansy does. She has long ago learned to swallow her disgust at this part. It's worth it for what comes next.

Pansy moves until she is standing directly in front of Bellatrix, who looks her up and down. And then it starts.

Bella pushes Pansy's dark cloak away, lets it drop to the ground. Her hand caresses Pansy's thigh, clad only in a thin pair of stockings, and makes its way up under Pansy's skirt, between her legs.

Pansy steadies herself against the table as Bellatrix picks up her wand, casting a quiet spell that almost instantly sheds Pansy's stockings.

Bella uses her hand to drag Pansy's knickers down her legs, and then Bella fucks her, first with her hand, then with her wand and finally with her mouth.

Pansy doesn't utter a sound the whole time, lets Bella do what she wants, but she makes sure to come hard in Bella's mouth, lets Bella lick her clean once she's done. It's the game the two of them play, have played for years.

You keep my secret and I'll keep yours.

Finally, Bella finishes. She licks her fingers and sits back, her dark eyes glinting.

Pansy doesn't even bother pulling up her knickers. Instead, she steps out of them. She's not embarrassed.

Besides, she has other things on her mind.

"She's still alive?" she asks Bellatrix, her tone remarkably impassive.

Bellatrix isn't fooled, though. She cackles, loudly.

"Not for long!"

And then she is gone, Apparating into the night, off to tell the Dark Lord that she has checked in on the Malfoys and they are cooperating as expected.

She was never here. Nor was Pansy.

Hermione has long since been dead.

You keep my secret and I'll keep yours.

•••

Bellatrix is right. Hermione doesn't have much longer. That much is obvious the second Pansy sees her.

It is almost an inky black down in the small, claustrophobic dungeon of the house. It was once a basement, for wizards to store their stuff and children to play in, but now it is nothing more than a jail cell, keeping its prisoner here as the days and the months and the years tick by.

It feels like a dungeon to Pansy. The stone walls, the rocky floor, the entire room having been made impenetrable to magic long, long ago.

Hermione lies where she always does, in the middle of a small, dirty mattress. It's the only piece of furniture in the room, and it barely even counts as that.

Hermione's ankles are clamped in iron shackles, as they always are, as if she still has the strength or the energy to try to escape if they were removed.

Pansy lifts the lantern she has brought down from upstairs and hangs it from the hook in the ceiling. A soft glow lights up Hermione's corner of the room, causing the girl to wince in pain, even the tiny light too much for her sensitive eyes.

She is barely more than a skeleton, the perfect definition of skin-and-bones. Her hair has thinned dramatically and what she does have now just hangs in clumps. In the light, her skin looks almost yellow. At least the parts that don't glow bright, sickly red from the cuts and curses Bellatrix likes to cast on her.

She is dying. Pansy can tell.

But she is still the most beautiful creature Pansy has ever seen.

Pansy creeps over to her, takes one of her pale, thin hands in hers. Hermione barely has the energy to squeeze Pansy's hand back.

"I'm glad you came." Hermione's voice is nothing more than a thin whisper, a hint of a voice that was once loud and powerful. "I don't have much time."

Pansy wants to argue with that, but she keeps quiet. They both know it's true.

"I was hoping for one last night with you," Hermione says, and she almost smiles.

Guilt fills Pansy's heart. There is no trace of bitterness or resentment left in Hermione's body. She has long since accepted her fate, long since understood that Pansy did what she had to do, that she had to pick the boy who would give her a future over the girl she had loved for years.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Pansy had cried when she had finally found her, after months of tracking Bellatrix after she had realized the Dark Lord's right-hand woman was hiding something from her master. "I didn't know!"

Hermione had begged her then, had pleaded with her.

"We can run away together!" she had begged as Pansy had shook her head no.

"But I love you!" Hermione had cried. "And I know you love me! Help me!"

But Pansy had made her choice, and Hermione had eventually accepted it, and now this was all they had. One last night together.

Pansy doesn't want to think about what will happen after this, what her life will be like once she doesn't have a secret to hold over Bellatrix's head.

You keep my secret and I'll keep yours.

But now isn't the time to think about it.

Instead Pansy smiles at the beautiful girl lying close to death on the mattress before her.

"You know I wouldn't let you do this alone," Pansy whispers, and Hermione manages to squeeze her hand almost tightly this time.

"I can just lie with you," Pansy says softly, but Hermione shakes her head.

"I want to feel you," she says, and Pansy nods, understanding perfectly as she feels something unexpected — tears welling up in her eyes.

Pansy hasn't cried in ten years, and she knows she can't start now. She shakes her head to clear out the moisture and instead leans down and presses her lips against Hermione's.

Hermione's lips have also grown thinner over the years, and now they are cold from being down in this dungeon, but they feel like home to Pansy.

Pansy takes her time, snogging her with all the emotion and feeling she can muster, using her right hand to trace her fingers up and down Hermione's face, trying to sear Hermione's features into her memory. She traces Hermione's eyebrows, threads her fingers through her hair and pushes the thin strands behind her ears, pulls back from their kiss and smoothes her fingers across Hermione's lips.

Then she starts moving, touching and nipping and kissing under Hermione's jawbone and down her neck and all around her tiny breasts.

Pansy wants to burn every detail of Hermione into her mind, but she also wants Hermione to forget all the pain and all the horror and all the torture she has endured from being Bellatrix's captive.

Pansy couldn't save her from her fate but maybe she can help her now.

Pansy takes one of Hermione's nipples into her mouth and sucks gingerly on it. Hermione arches her back, just slightly, pushing herself deeper into Pansy, and she sighs, an almost contented sigh.

Pansy keeps going, abandoning Hermione's breast and making her way farther south, her kisses and touches going over Hermione's stomach and around her belly button and down to her pelvis.

Finally, Pansy gets to where she needs to be, and she has to fight once more against an onslaught of tears.

She presses her nose between Hermione's legs, bumps Hermione's clit and listen as the other girl moans softly.

Pansy continues to take her time, using her fingers and her tongue to explore every fold and every crevice like she had never been here hundreds of times before.

Hermione shifts under her touch and makes soft whimpering noises. Pansy slides a finger into her and starts to move it.

"I love you," Pansy whispers into Hermione's sensitive flesh. She doesn't think Hermione can make out her words, but Hermione wiggles her hips, as though she wants to grind herself deeper into Pansy.

Pansy flashes back to the first time they had sex, sixth years hiding in the Room of Requirement, Hermione grinding herself against Pansy's face, her come spreading everywhere.

Now Pansy slides in a second finger and wraps her mouth around Hermione's clit. Hermione is wet, so very wet, and it takes Pansy a few moments to realize most of the wetness is from her own tears.

Somehow that realization makes Pansy cry harder. She pumps her fingers faster to make up for it, angles them in the way she knows Hermione likes, and keeps going until she feels Hermione's muscles clamp around her for what she knows will be the last time.

Pansy sobs harder and keeps her fingers moving until long after she feels Hermione still. Then she finally pulls her hand out of the other girl and climbs back up her pale, thin body.

Hermione's eyes are closed. She is barely breathing.

Pansy presses her lips against Hermione's one last time.

A hint of brown opens in the dark room, a tiny echo of sound fills her ears.

"Thank you."

Pansy collapses on Hermione's chest, her sobs echoing around the room.

By the time she looks up, Hermione is gone. Pansy knows even before she checks for breath.

The only person she has ever loved is gone. The choice she made so many years ago when she said yes to Draco feels like a regret she will never live down.

But there is nothing she can do about that now.

Pansy stands up, looks down on Hermione's body, studies her for what feels like hours, until she is sure she will never forget her image.

Then she turns around and heads back upstairs to find her clothes. Bellatrix will want to take care of the body, and Pansy can't take any more risks.

Her only chance in this dark world is her husband.

"I want you to be happy," Hermione had whispered to her once, a long time ago.

Pansy thinks maybe she still would want that for her, even if Pansy doesn't think that's possible.

But she has to try.

So Pansy slips the dark cloak back on and pulls the hood up over her head.

Hermione is gone. Draco is not.

Pansy doesn't have a choice. She Apparates back home.

The Nightingale That Refused To Sing - a gift for valkyriekat_47!

scarletladyy — Tue, 10 Dec 2013 23:18:23 GMT

Title: The Nightingale That Refused To Sing
Author: flyingharmony
Recipient: reg_flint
Pairing(s): Bellatrix/Narcissa, past Andromeda/Narcissa
Word Count: 1175
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: (Strongly Mentioned) Character Death, Incest if you squint
Summary: With the loss of her sister, Narcissa also loses her voice.
Author's Notes: Thank you so much to Fairy for hosting this amazing fest and also for the beta! You’re amazing, bb <3. To Valkyriekat – I really, really hope that you will enjoy this! I basically loved every single of your prompts and tried to use a few of them for the fic (even if they might not be all that obvious) – it was really wonderful to see how much we have in common!

There were no words to describe how much she missed her. The pain of a broken heart was the most excruciating, the most terrible pain to endure, they said, and it was true. Even now, long after it had happened, some days it seemed sheer impossible to cope. Even now, it still felt as though it had only been days since they’d last seen each other.

Sometimes, she’d still dream of her; sometimes she’d still see her face right before her as though she were here, here with her. Sometimes she’d still hear her voice, quietly whispering into her ear.

She was dead. Andromeda was dead, long gone, and still her presence would haunt Narcissa, would remind her of how much, of how painfully much she missed her.

"You need to forget about her," Bellatrix would tell her from time to time, shaking her head in disdain. "We lost her, Cissy, and mourning the past will not bring her back."

How much she wanted to scream at her. How much she wanted to spit at her for speaking out these terrible words. How much she wanted to escape, escape from everything. Instead she only sank down within her arms, crying countless silent tears.

How dare you speak of her like this, Narcissa wanted to shout. how dare you speak of your sister in such a way? Didn’t she mean anything to you?

There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to… Instead, her mouth remained shut. She had not spoken since she’d lost Andromeda; her lips had been sealed for all those years, ever since she’d knelt there on the floor, eve since she’d held her lifeless body in her arms, begging for her to wake up, begging for her to return, all in vain.

Bellatrix, however, had only watched her from the distance, her large black eyes coldly resting on her. She ignored her desperate cries for help, stood there, just stood there, her wand still in her hands.

"You cannot stay silent forever, Narcissa," Bellatrix had said days later, her voice sharp and cruel. She’d glared at Narcissa with such scornfulness that she felt her blood freeze within her veins. Were she to punish her for her tears? Were she to punish her for her grief? Were she to kill her, too?

Narcissa’s desperate attempt to run away on the fateful night of her sister’s death had failed; she’d had no chance to escape. Of course not. She’d been too weak even to rise from the floor, too weak to even keep her eyes open. And she knew that, if Bellatrix wanted her to stay with her, there would no other option than to stay, not even when she wanted nothing more than to be away. Away… Away from her, away from everything, alone!

Never had she despised her sister more than in the moment she realised what had happened, and yet she’d been helpless, defenceless, had Bellatrix hit her in her weakest moment. She wasn’t afraid of her, had never been afraid of her like so many others, but Andromeda’s death seemed to have changed everything. She was now a prisoner of grief, silenced and paralysed, incapable of refusing.

"You cannot stay silent forever," Bellatrix whispered again, tightly grasping her slender fingers around her wrist. "And one day, Cissy, you will understand that all your mourning was in vain."

But she had been mistaken. Narcissa’s voice was lost; she had remained silent, unable to speak even if she wanted to. And while time had taken away a part of her pain, it would still burn within her heart, never fading. Still she felt unspeakable anger for her sister, and yet she needed her more than anything else. Yet she would allow her to come to her, to touch her, even to kiss her like she had only allowed Andromeda to kiss her. Yet she would cry against her shoulder when once again she was unable to control her emotions. Yet she loved her and loathed herself for her weakness.

"She was a traitor," Bellatrix had told her countless times when she noticed Narcissa's red, tear-filled eyes, her voice soft as if to comfort her with such cruel words. "A traitor, Cissy, nothing but a traitor! She wanted to run away with a Muggle-born… Could you imagine the shame she would have put on our family? Could you imagine how much she’d have disgraced us all?"

Lies. Of course she was lying, of course her words weren’t true! She hadn’t been a traitor, not her, not Andromeda! Not her sister, her wonderful sister, her everything… She’d never have left her; Narcissa knew it! She wouldn’t have left her…

What if it’s true?

No. It wasn’t true; none of it was true. It wasn’t true…

What had Bellatrix done to her over all these years? What had she done to her to make her sheer will-less? What had she done to make her doubt what she had once so firmly believed in?

Narcissa was free, she knew; free to leave, free to go anywhere she desired, but still she stayed, still she was a captive. She’d give in to Bellatrix, would always give in, allow her mind to slip away and lose control over herself more with every day passing. How softly Bellatrix spoke to her sometimes, how lovingly. And then, how cold she could be to her, how cold and unapproachable. It felt as though she were playing a game with her, a cruel game to make her completely and utterly submissive, but then, why would Narcissa still see her cry sometimes, in moments she felt unobserved? Why would she still notice Bellatrix' eyes to be wet with tears?

Once again Bellatrix had come to her once night had fallen, tightly held her in her arms now as though she never wanted to let her go, as though she too needed her in this very moment. How fragile she seemed…

"Cissy…" Bellatrix whispered ,barely audible, gently stroking over her cheek. "Talk to me… Please, talk to me… Just a word…"

Nothing. Narcissa only shook her head, briefly looked into her eyes. How sad they looked, and how sincere… No. It wasn’t sincerity she saw in her, it couldn't impossibly be…

Perhaps she loved her, too. Perhaps she…

Again Narcissa wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry out what she had held back for too long, and again there was only silence. Nothing but silence. Her words had dried out long ago and she knew that one day her tears would also cease to flow. Bellatrix had broken her, yet she was the only person she had left. Bellatrix had done the unspeakable and still Narcissa loved her, still she had nowhere else to go, still she felt safe within her arms.

But she would never forget whom she had loved more than anything else in her life. She would always dream of her, dream of the sister she had lost too soon, silently calling her name in her sleep.

Teacher's Pets - a gift for dexstarr!

scarletladyy — Mon, 09 Dec 2013 22:59:48 GMT

Title: Teacher's Pets
Author: amorette
Recipient: dexstarr
Characters: (Gen) Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Alecto Carrow
Word Count: ~ 1,400
Rating: R
Warnings: Dark themes (obviously), non consensual, humiliation
Summary: What happened to all the girls when Alecto Carrow asked them to stay after class?
Author's Note: I hope you enjoy this, dexstarr! I took one of your kinks you listed and decided to center the story around that, because it was so deliciously dark. Thank you A for the beta! ♥

Alecto Carrow had a certain propensity for the Hogwarts girls. She punished the blokes right in the classroom, in front of everyone. She favored the Cruciatus, and it was usually Longbottom who got the brunt of them, poor fool. His so-called bravery earned him nothing but trouble.

But when one of the girls spoke out of turn or questioned the Death Eater regime, Alecto took her out of the classroom, and no one saw her again for at least a day or more. When she came back, she refused to speak of it. Usually she would only blush and stare at the ground in silence when asked what had happened to her overnight with Alecto Carrow.

Pansy dreaded to think about it, much less chance experiencing it for herself, which is why she tried her best to remain invisible during Muggle Studies. There was no way she wanted to draw Alecto's attention and be hauled off for the night to who knew where. The castle was scary enough this year without adding another horror. The places that were once inviting were now dark. The fire in the common room held no warmth for her any more; the Great Hall contained no laughter. Especially since there would be students missing all the time. She and Daphne always kept an eye out for who was absent from dinner one night or the next.

What made it almost intolerably fear-inducing was that it was simply a mystery - where did Alecto take the girls, and what did she do to them?

"We need to find out," Daphne said one night. She was on her side, facing Pansy's bed, her hands tucked underneath her pillow.

Daphne always slept like that, and Pansy slept facing her. It was their own little tradition to stay up later than any of their roommates, talking the night away.

"We is not an option," Pansy whispered. "I don't want to find out anything."

Daphne bit her lip. "Aren't you even the least bit curious?"

"Absolutely not. I want to make it through this year alive." Pansy sighed. "Merlin, I can't wait to be out of here. Finish school, then leave this place as soon I can."

Daphne had never been on board with Pansy's plan, and she snorted disapprovingly now. "I'll never leave Britain."

"And you'll stay here while he rules?"

"He's going to flood the rest of Europe eventually. There's no point in fleeing. How long do you think you'll be able to avoid them?"

"Well, for whatever it's worth…"

Daphne stared past Pansy's head, with that determined look they sometimes got. "Tomorrow morning in class, I'm going to speak out of turn."

"No!"

"I have to. I want to."

"You're a psychopath." Pansy's breath came short. "You have no idea what might happen to you."

Daphne held her gaze. "Everyone's come back, haven't they? I won't die."

Pansy scoffed. "That's hardly reassuring." Her heart raced at the mere thought.

"It means whatever happens, I'll survive. And then I'll know."

Pansy didn't sleep well that night, and Daphne was in her dreams.

~ ~ ~

Pansy hardly sat still in her seat the next morning. She kept looking at Daphne in the seat next to hers. Pansy's knee shook with nerves, and Daphne would just catch her eye and glare.

"Relax," Daphne whispered.

Daphne was so stupid. What a complete and utter idiot. She was practically on Longbottom's level at this point, purposely causing a fuss just to spite the Carrows. It made no bloody sense.

What was the point of it?

Alecto entered the room, and everyone shut the fuck up and faced forward, eyes lowered to their desks. Pansy snuck another glance at Daphne and saw that she was facing forward, her jaw set in quiet resolve.

Alecto smiled at the class. She was sickly sweet. "Today we will learn about the disgusting habits of Muggle housekeeping." She held her hands behind her back and slowly paced the front of the room. "Instead of spells, they employ manual methods of cleaning… as some of you Mixed-Bloods can probably attest to…" she added, sneering at the room.

Seamus Finnegan clenched his hand into a fist on top of his desk.

"Can anyone give me an example?" Alecto asked.

She looked around, raising an eyebrow at the silence that fell upon them all.

"No one?"

Pansy's leg trembled so hard, her heel threatened to tap against the floor. She exhaled and pressed her foot down flat to stop it.

A hand gingerly went up. It was Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Yes, you. Speak."

"W… wa… washing dishes by hand?"

Alecto's lips curled into a smile. "Why, yes. That's definitely one of their more disgusting habits. If they possessed the gift of magic, they'd be able to spell their dishes clean."

Another voice interrupted Alecto's speech - one which made Pansy's heart jump in her chest.

"But isn't it true they have some sort of tool that washes dishes for them?" Daphne asked. Her face was leached of color, but her voice had neither trembled nor quaked once while she asked it.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as Alecto's head snapped in Daphne's direction. Her face became cold and stony with irritation.

"Oh?" Alecto exhaled. "And you think this rivals magic in some way? You think it makes the Muggle beasts clever?"

Daphne stiffly raised her chin, and her chest rose and fell visibly. "I…" It was the first time she faltered, and she cleared her throat. "I believe it's called a Dish Washer. We learned that in last year's course, actually."

"I will not have talk of such things in my classroom," Alecto snapped. "You will see me after class."

Now she'd done it. When the class was over and the rest of the students had filed out, Daphne only gave Pansy a nod, a half smile, and went up to the front of the room.

Pansy was tempted to stand outside and listen - a curious part of her yearned for it - but she simply wouldn't chance being caught. Not when it would be much safer to just wait until tomorrow, when Daphne came back.

… If she were one of the luckier ones.

~ ~ ~

Daphne did return, but Pansy didn't know when exactly it had been, because the first time she saw her was at lunch the next day. Pansy entered the Great Hall to see Daphne sitting at the Slytherin table, staring listlessly ahead.

"Daphne!"

Pansy ran to the table and plopped down on the bench in front of her, throwing her bag to the side.

"Daphne? Hullo?"

Daphne looked at her then, and Pansy was almost taken aback by the intensity in her eyes.

Pansy leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Daphne. What happened?"

Daphne's mouth curled into a smile, and she laughed, sounding more bitter than ever before. "You won't even believe me if I tell you."

Pansy bit her lip. Did she even want to know? Would it help her in any way, or would she be better off just living in ignorance?

"Tell me," she said finally.

"There are cages."

Pansy blinked. "Cages?"

"Rows of them… stacks of them. Tiny ones." Daphne laughed again, and it scared Pansy. Then Daphne leaned in as well. "There are girls in them. Dozens. Some looked like first years."

Pansy wrinkled her brow.

"There was a Ravenclaw girl in there - I could tell by her uniform - who looked like she'd been in there for days."

"Cages?" Pansy repeated, letting the word fall from her mouth.

"You don't believe me." Daphne shook her head and sat back.

Pansy swallowed. "Were you… did you stay in a … you know?"

It was only then that Daphne showed any sign of embarrassment, her eyes dashing to Pansy's and then away, and her cheeks coloring lightly. She pressed her lips together.

Pansy's chest felt heavy, and she looked at the platters of food in the middle of the table. She didn't want any of it.

Daphne stared past her. "You know, I hope Potter gets him. I truly do."

Posting Hiatus

scarletladyy — Mon, 02 Dec 2013 23:39:05 GMT

Due to outstanding submissions and myself not being very well at the moment, I've decided we should take a brief posting hiatus. Posting will resume on Monday 9th December.

This should hopefully give everyone some time to catch up with any gifts they haven't managed to check out yet, and allow the remaining submissions to not have to be rushed.

For your reference, here are the Week One and Week Two round ups.

Apologies for the hiatus, and many thanks for your patience too ♥

Week Two Round Up 2013

scarletladyy — Mon, 02 Dec 2013 01:29:15 GMT

Monday 25th November: They Withered All for chokolattejedi [FIC & ART]
[Ginny/Pansy, R] Pansy and Ginny have never been friends, but after Hogwarts they find themselves in the same places, with a similar group of friends. One evening when Pansy comes to her for help, Ginny becomes more embroiled in Pansy's life than she ever thought possible.

Tuesday 26th November: Sisters Most Snakelike for The Community!
[Bellatrix/Narcissa, R/NC-17] Bellatrix waits outside Wiltshire Manor to see if she can lead Narcissa into going on a sex spree with her before Narcissa is married. Any means to and end? Hehe.

Wednesday 27th November: Echoes of War for flipflop_diva
[Luna/Hermione, PG-13] Hermione shuts down after coming back from Australia. The Ministry remains in chaos and it isn't safe for her to start work in the Wizarding world but she doesn't feel she belongs in the Muggle world either. For lack of anything else to do she becomes Head Girl and returns to Hogwarts, lost within her own mind and with only one person willing to keep trying to pull her out of it.

Thursday 28th November: I Shut My Eyes and All the World Drops Dead for The Community!
[Padma/Pansy, Pansy/Lily Luna, NC-17] After twenty-five years on the job, Auror Pansy Parkinson deals with her most challenging case yet.

Friday 29th November: A Cry Before Battle for The Community!
[Lily/Bellatrix, NC-17] She keeps one hand on her wand, and thinks she's safe.

Saturday 30th November: Coming Home for amorette [ART]
[Lavender/Ginny, NC-17] Lavender didn't turn after Greyback's attack, but she didn't stay the same, either. She left England to figure it all out, leaving Ginny behind. When she came back, Ginny saw her coming...

Please leave feedback for our lovely authors and artists :)

Coming Home - a gift for marianna_merlo!

scarletladyy — Sun, 01 Dec 2013 01:15:52 GMT

Title: Coming Home
Artist: deslea
Recipient: amorette
Pairing(s): Lavender/Ginny
Medium: Digital art - Daz3D and Photoshop
Rating: M
Warnings: Clothed, but suggestive - probably not safe for conservative workplaces
Summary: Lavender didn't turn after Greyback's attack, but she didn't stay the same, either. She left England to figure it all out, leaving Ginny behind. When she came back, Ginny saw her coming...
Artist's Notes: This is my first 3D artwork, and I was thrilled to have such an awesome premise to try it out. I was playing with the idea of a Lavender who has taken on something of what she almost became - a hunter, who has taken on even the colours of the natural world. Meanwhile Ginny is vibrant and pink and alive - everything Lavender needs to come back for.

A Cry Before Battle - a gift for The Community!

scarletladyy — Fri, 29 Nov 2013 16:50:55 GMT

Title: A Cry Before Battle
Author: _afterism
Recipient: The Community
Pairing(s): Lily Evans/Bellatrix Lestrange
Word Count: 1803
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Dub-con (borderline non-con), violence, infidelity
Summary: She keeps one hand on her wand, and thinks she's safe.
Author's Notes: I loved all your prompts and I tried to get as many kinks in as I could - this is loosely based on your nymphomania prompt, although it went off in its own direction.

1979

The London Underground is a maddening crush this time of evening, and Lily keeps her hand wrapped around her wand with a white-knuckled grip, buried in the bag slung over her shoulder. Using Muggle transport to get to the Order's meeting house is a desperate last resort, but they know the Floo network is compromised—too many people disappearing or finding themselves at the wrong fireplace and surrounded—they can't Apparate or Portkey inside due to the charms she spent days putting around it, and there's nowhere close enough to appear suddenly without causing alarm. They're going to have to do something about that, she thinks, as a businesswoman pushes past her on the escalator and she stumbles, hip barging sharply against the handrail, because this is intolerable.

She's swept along with the crowd through an archway and on to the platform, the air hot and stagnant, and every argument about anonymity and safety in division is a distant, irrelevant buzz in comparison to the feeling of being watched, weighing down on her like the summer heat. She glances left and right but the sea of faces is indistinct, and then the train arrives with a thundering clatter and a rush of stale air and the crowd surges forward, the carriage filling quickly as she scans the crowd again, hesitating. She's one of the last to squeeze her way in, rubbing her thumb along the smooth wood of her wand like an anchor, and leans into the carriage as the doors close with a hiss and a thud. She's pushed back with shuffled feet and mutterings that might be apologies, and so she leans against the door, holds back a curse and tries to draw herself in as much as possible as the train pulls away from the station and plunges into the tunnel.

The silence is heavy and hot, full of muffled coughs and newspapers rustling and the scrape of shoes as people try to keep their balance – it's all so perfectly normal, and maybe the feeling like something's burning against the back of her neck is just the tension of being on the verge of war, of being trapped in unfamiliar place without back-up or an escape route, and she takes a breath and turns to face the door, watching the darkness flashing past the window as she counts the number of stops until she can get off - and then the train judders, and slows, and the lights begin to flicker.

She whips her head around, checking the carriages at either end of hers to see the lights steady and the passengers unconcerned. The Muggles around her begin to mutter quietly, a spreading ripple of unease, and her wand is halfway out her bag, all pretence of calm forgotten, and then the lights blink out completely and the carriage plunges into darkness and there's a voice behind her hissing into her ear, saying, "You're a hard one to find, Evans."

Lily drives her elbow back as hard as she can and the train shudders, throwing her against the door and a body into her back and her hand knocks against the wall so hard it opens on reflex and her wand is gone, and that thought only registers half a second before someone grabs her wrist and yanks it up behind her back so hard she yelps. "There, now, I only want to talk." Someone giggles behind her, sounding light and syrupy and dangerous, and there's the tip of a wand scratching sharp against her ribs, someone's breath hot and tickling against her neck, someone pinning her against the door with the full crush of their body. She can't see, can't move, can barely breathe. The glass window is cold against her cheek and the train is pitch dark but it is still moving, slower than before but it is still going, and the worried chattering from the rest of the carriage sounds distant and distorted like they're the other side of a thin wall, and she feels suddenly, desperately alone.

"I have an offer for you," the voice says, loud enough for Lily to determine posh, and female, and excited. "Join us," she says, twisting her wand so it digs further into her side, and Lily has no doubt that 'us' means Death Eaters, "or die."

So this is it. She's going to die, wandless and alone in a train carriage full of Muggles, her heart pounding like this is the last chance it's ever going to get, and still she doesn't hesitate in saying, simply, "No."

"Just no?" The woman behind her laughs - cackles, horrible and delighted- and with a hot flush of terror Lily realises that this isn't going to be quick, that she knows who is standing behind her, and buried deep there's an odd, faint thrill of pride that they sent Bellatrix Lestrange after her. "You're not going to beg for your life? Tell me you'll do anything to spare yourself?" Bellatrix mocks, releasing her wrist and keeping it pinned between them with the weight of her body as her hand slips down to Lily's waist and pinches, before dragging up between her stomach and the door and groping her roughly, her fingernails digging in, and Lily gasps, breathless and hitched.

Bellatrix laughs vicious and piercing as Lily turns her head, her cheek slipping against the glass as she catches the glint of Bellatrix behind her in the darkness, and she pushes back to make sure she's got her full attention as she repeats, "No."

Bellatrix snarls and shoves Lily back against the door so she hits it shoulder first, her wand tearing a thin line through her shirt, and her hair irritates Lily's neck as she crowds in close and hisses in her ear, "I'm disappointed, Evans. I expected more of a fight," she says, punctuating it with another rough squeeze, and to be honest so did Lily, but she's trapped and wandless and alone and she was so stupid to have come down here on her own, to not have had her wand out the whole time, to let a Death Eater so close she must be able to feel the heat radiating off her flushed skin.

And there's that treacherous little thought that maybe she wanted this, that lights up with every scrape of Bellatrix's fingernails and throbs in time with her heartbeat, that can sense danger and aches for it. The train clatters slowly on and in the darkness her ragged breathing is answered only by Bellatrix's amused, considering hums, and she can't even cry out. The Muggles in the crowded carriage are oblivious and scared and so close she could touch them if only she could free one of her arms, but they might as well be in another universe for all that they can help her.

Bellatrix kneads her breast in a mockery of gentleness, and Lily moans, small and terrified but undoubtedly a moan. Bellatrix pauses. "What was that, little Evans?" she says, and Lily bites her tongue instead of replying, and so Bellatrix slides her hand across Lily's shirt until she finds a nipple, stiff and sensitive, and squeezes. Lily moans again, helplessly, closes her eyes and rests her forehead against the glass. Bellatrix's laugh is something terrifying, a war cry above a battlefield, and that's all the warning she gets before the wand tip is gone from her side and suddenly there's a hand under her skirt, shoving her thighs apart and rubbing two fingers against her clit. Lily chokes off a gasp and can't stop herself grinding down against her hand, because she's always been easily stimulated but it's never been a bad thing, never been something she had to control, and Bellatrix laughs and snarls, "You filthy little slut," like it's a compliment.

Lily gulps and gasps and tries to get her breathing under control, tears stinging her eyes, and she's rocking her hips in short shallow thrusts and Bellatrix is making her ride her hand so roughly she's sliding against the door by several inches at a time. With dull realisation she finds one of her arms is free, but all she can do is press it against the door and hang on as something hot and dry pushes her knickers out of the way and shoves inside her, as Bellatrix cackles something terrible, a threat or a promise or something, and bites her shoulder and Lily comes with a desperate cry, high and choked and everything goes so bright she knows she must be dead

But then she realises she can see, that they're out the tunnel and pulling into a station and her knees are so weak she all but falls out of the carriage as the doors open and the crowd surges forward, and she's running before she has her balance but she doesn't stop, slams one hand against the wall to turn the corner and keeps going, the ticket barriers springing open with barely a thought, and she's out in the dark and cold air before she stumbles to a stop, choking for air and her heart pounding in her ears, and when she looks back there's no one following her, although a couple on the other side of the street are looking at her strangely.

She gasps down air until she can breathe almost normally, starts walking again with slow and faltering steps, and sticks to the light. She shivers, skin turning cold as the sweat dries and there's a dull ache between her legs and her face feels horribly clammy, and she reaches into her bag for a tissue, or something, and instead finds her wand. It's slightly warm in her hand, and she just stares at it for a moment, and then she finds the nearest side alley, casting Lumos to check it's empty (safe), and for a moment she's going to Apparate straight home, scrub herself clean and climb into bed and maybe Obliviate herself, but with a cold sort of clarity she thinks about James, and the Order, and the importance of what they're doing, and she's shivering with a kind of exhilaration she hasn't felt in a long time. She wants to fight.

She shifts her grip on her wand, rubbing her thumb across the smooth wood like a charm, and sets her mind to the Order house. If she's really good (and she is), she might just be able to land in the shadows by the front steps and get in before anyone outside notices her arrival and anyone inside even realises she's late, and with a private smile she readies herself, and twists. She's got a war to win.

Somewhere in the darkness Bellatrix watches her go, and flashes her teeth in something like a smile.

I Shut My Eyes and All the World Drops Dead - a gift for The Community!

scarletladyy — Thu, 28 Nov 2013 23:36:22 GMT

Title: I Shut My Eyes and All the World Drops Dead
Author: arjd
Recipient: The Community
Pairing(s): Padma/Pansy, Pansy/Lily Luna, implied Pansy/OFC
Word Count: ~6300
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Infidelity, dubcon/noncon (both implied and explicit), implied torture, murder, blood
Summary: After twenty-five years on the job, Auror Pansy Parkinson deals with her most challenging case yet.
Author's Notes: The title is from "Mad Girl's Love Song" by Sylvia Plath.

They'd lived together for four years now, and Pansy knew Padma had her faults but it was a peaceful coexistence; they enjoyed one another's company and the sex was amazing. It wasn't the love affair of the century, but they were 45 – what was? They were happy, and they never spoke about love.

Pansy got out of bed, showered and dressed. While putting on her makeup, she wondered if Padma was home. Pansy had returned from yet another trip with work late last night, and Padma hadn't been in bed. She missed her, although their relationship was at best casual, and Pansy had been with someone else whilst away. Pansy had told Padma that since she was away with work so much, and for so long, there was no reason for them to go without. Padma agreed it made sense, but they never spoke about what happened when they were apart.

"Are you going to work already?" Padma asked. She was reading the Prophet at the breakfast table. They had an open kitchen/diner, with a separate door to the living room, and a hall through to the bedroom and bathroom, although they rarely used the living room, preferring when they were home to sit at either the kitchen table, or when the weather was good, on the balcony overlooking the park. Pansy had lost the argument about the decoration, and everything was done to Padma's simple tastes, but it was home, and she couldn't complain.

"Mm," said Pansy, rushing around throwing various items into her handbag: lipstick, hairbrush, perfume. "Got an early start. Weasley said we're starting a new case today."

"Coffee first?" asked Padma, indicating the cafetière.

"I'll get one at the office. After 25 years, I think I'm finally starting to get used to it."

Padma chuckled. "Alright. I'll see you tonight."

"Don't wait up."

"I never do."

* * *

"So what's the new case?" asked Pansy, setting her coffee on the table and flinging her handbag under her desk. Black and green: she still wore her House colour with pride.

"Wait 'til the others get here," said Weasley tersely.

"The others? You're bringing another team into this?"

"Yeah."

Pansy whistled through her teeth.

Weasley seemed restless; Pansy studied him as he paced up and down. He was no longer the enthusiastic youth she'd once been in love with for all of a month (she excused this by saying it had been her first month on the job, and there may have been an element of hero-worship; Weasley was a damn good Auror) but Pansy had always wondered if, in another life, she and him could have been good together.

Still, he was happily married, and had been for longer than she'd been his partner, and she was happy with Padma, and this wasn't another life after all.

The other two Aurors joined them after a few minutes. Creevey and Edgecombe were nearly as old and as senior as Pansy and Weasley, which was unusual. Four senior Aurors on a case – this had to be big.

"So," said Weasley. "There's a girl missing. Eighteen years old, name Rebecca Corner. It's been two days since anyone saw her. We all know her dad Michael. So let's not fuck about, okay? Edgecombe and Creevey, I want you two to liaise with the Muggle police on this one. They have, um, equipment that could help us. Cameras, and so on and so forth. I'm going to talk to Rebecca's parents and brother. Pansy, you go round the friends; there's four we’d like to speak to, so I'll get you the names and addresses in a few. Alright?"

Everyone nodded, sombre, and Pansy got another cup of coffee while she waited for the list.

The first three girls were not only unhelpful, but frightened Pansy in that they didn't seem to care. Their friend had been missing for forty-eight hours but they were shockingly blasé about the fact. No, they hadn't seen her. No, they didn't know where she was going last time they saw her. Probably off with another friend. Probably just forgot to come home. Probably drunk.

By the time Pansy got around to the last name on her list, she was weary of the whole thing. In her day, when someone went missing, it was a huge deal. Of course, it was a different time then, and the fear, which had dominated Pansy's teenage years, was largely gone from the world, but a friend disappearing was no small matter, even so. She didn't understand teenagers these days. Fuck, she felt old.

Pansy knocked on the door, and it opened to reveal Lily Luna Potter.

She leaned against the doorframe, red hair tumbling down over her breasts. Pansy knew from the file that she was 18, and much too young, but she couldn't help but find her attractive. Pansy had always thought Ginny Weasley was a looker in school, and Lily Luna had some of her features, but she also had bigger breasts, for one, and she was a little curvier. Ginny was too much of a Quidditch player to have had much of a figure, but Lily looked like she ate. Pansy found it very attractive.

"Can I help you?" Lily asked.

Pansy cleared her throat. "I need to speak to you about a Ministry matter regarding Rebecca Corner."

"Oh, right. You'd best come in." Now that Pansy looked closer, she could see the girl had been crying recently.

"Thanks."

Lily made Pansy a cup of tea; how polite she was, Pansy thought. Lily's flat was small, but cosy and warmly furnished. It was just big enough for one person.

"So, when did you last see Rebecca?"

Lily ran her hand through her hair. Her breasts pushed against her top. "Must have been a couple of days ago, maybe three."

"How did she seem? Did she mention she was going to meet anyone? Where she was going, that sort of thing?"

"Er… She seemed fine. She's really bubbly, Rebecca. A really fun girl. She didn't really say anything though, she just said she was going to meet a friend later, but I didn't think much of it."

"Did she say anything about who the friend was?"

"No, not that I remember. I'm sorry."

Pansy sighed. No real leads there, then.

"How about boyfriends, did she have any?"

Lily shook her head vehemently.

"Girlfriends?"

Lily smiled. "No, not at the moment."

Pansy smiled back. "She sounds great."

"She is."

"Lily, I'm sorry. I know this is hard. But we aren't ruling out foul play at the moment, and I'd like you to think if there's anyone who would have a grudge against Rebecca."

Lily Luna stared at her cup of tea, obviously thinking hard. After a minute or two, she shook her head. "Like I said, she's a great girl. There's not a bad bone in her body. She was a Prefect, for Merlin's sake."

Pansy nodded. "I didn't mean to upset you. Are you alright?"

Lily kept staring at her cup of tea, and then raised her head to look at Pansy. Her eyes were filled with tears.

"I just… it's not like her to go somewhere without telling anyone. I'm so scared for her. She's not… She doesn't have a clue, about how the world really is. I hate thinking of her being scared or in pain."

Pansy reached out and put a comforting hand on the girl's arm, feeling guilty that she found the sensation maddeningly erotic, despite the situation. "Lily… We will find her. I promise. We're doing everything we can."

Lily managed a watery smile. "Thanks, Auror Parkinson."

"Call me Pansy. If you ever need to reach me, if you think of any information about Rebecca, or you just need to talk, you can owl me, or Floo me at my office at the Ministry." She wrote down the Floo port number on a piece of parchment and pressed it into Lily's hand before leaving.

She waited until she was around the corner, out of sight of Lily's flat, before leaning against the wall and breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. It was so fucking inappropriate to be attracted to someone who was not only nearly thirty years her junior, but a friend of the missing girl, and Harry Potter's daughter to boot. Pansy didn't even let herself think about Padma, not yet. They weren't exclusive, but that was when Pansy was away. Padma was at home, in their flat, waiting.

Merlin help her.

She met Weasley back at the office to catch up.

"Anything?" she asked.

He shook his head. He looked completely downtrodden.

"Ron," she said, and that made him look up. She'd only ever used his first name a handful of times.

"What?"

"We'll find her."

"What if we don't?"

"We will." She gripped his hand tightly, for just a second.

* * *

They put an appeal for information in the Prophet, and the next two days were spent sorting through the slew of tipoffs. It was a disheartening two days with dead end after dead end, and cup after cup of rancid coffee as they sorted through the hundreds of letters that came in. It wasn't even a job they could delegate; someone less experienced might disregard something important. The four Aurors barely spoke to one another, and Pansy was sure Weasley stayed through the night once.

In the end, it didn't matter, because they missed it anyway.

It was a report of noise disturbance from an old woman, and it had been dismissed as a bunch of loud kids in the house next door. The killer was long gone, of course.

Rebecca Corner was hanging by her wrists in the bedroom, strung up by chains attached to the ceiling. Her head was bowed, dark hair almost covering her naked breasts but not quite. She had blood all over her; it had run freely from her slit wrists down her arms, over her hair, and all down her body to pool and congeal on the floor. Pansy had seen pictures of her when she was alive; she had been beautiful. Not anymore.

And then Pansy saw it. She'd almost missed it under all the blood, but there was a sickle-shaped birthmark under Rebecca's left breast. Pansy remembered that birthmark.

"Fuck," she breathed.

Weasley looked askance at her. "You alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Do we know what happened here?"

"Looks like she was held for a few days, but not strung up the whole time, otherwise she wouldn't have bled out like that, and there's no evidence of repeated soiling on the floor around her. Obviously when she died… but apart from that nothing. We have to wait for the crime scene Aurors to do their stuff before we can cut her down and get a full autopsy." Weasley rubbed his hand over his face. "Blimey. I've seen some things in my time working this job, but that…. She went to school with my son and niece. Same year. Same classes. They talked about her sometimes."

Pansy didn't know what to say.

"You talked to Lily the other day, didn't you?" asked Weasley.

"Your niece? Yeah. Don't worry, I was nice. Gave her my card in case she needed to talk. I think she might need to when she hears."

Ron nodded.

"Let's get a coffee and talk things over," said Pansy. She had something she needed to tell him; if there was one thing she'd learned about being an Auror, it was to be fucking honest.

* * *

"I've seen her before," said Pansy when they'd had cups of coffee.

"What do you mean?" Weasley wasn't stupid. He knew Pansy didn't just mean she'd seen Rebecca around Diagon Alley.

"Remember that trip we went on to Bulgaria to check out that werewolf pack a couple of months ago? You stayed in your room all night, but I went out. I met this English witch at a bar; we ended up going back to my room. It was her. Rebecca Corner."

"Merlin, Parkinson. That is fucked up."

"So, are you gonna take me off the case? I didn't realise before. It was months ago and I was drunk; I thought the girl in Bulgaria was older, too."

Weasley looked like he was struggling with some inner conflict. Finally, he said, "Am I? Shite. You're the best Auror on this case, Parkinson. Just keep your involvement quiet. I assume Padma doesn't know."

"We don't speak about what happens while I'm away."

"Keep it that way. A one-night stand in another country months ago is hardly likely to be relevant to the case anyway – we'll keep it in mind, of course, but it's highly unlikely - and you're not a suspect because I trust you; you only just figured out the connection. We just need to figure out which sick bastard did this."

"Agreed. What are you thinking?"

Weasley rested his hands on his stomach. Pansy was always amazed at how trim he was; most men his age had grown a paunchy belly by now, but Weasley stayed fit.

"It's got to be a witch or wizard, because her wand was broken in half – a Muggle wouldn't know to do that and I doubt she'd have let one get near her or her wand. Everyone I've spoken to said how Rebecca excelled at Defence Against the Dark Arts; it had to be someone she knew, because if it wasn't she'd have Stunned them the minute things started looking suspicious."

Pansy nodded. "So at least that narrows the list of suspects down."

"Yeah," said Weasley heavily. "But that means that we probably know the culprit."

"Great," said Pansy sarcastically. "Fucking great. Do we know more about how she was killed?"

"Yeah, we just got the report an hour ago. She hadn't eaten in two days, but her captor gave her water. She was killed sometime yesterday evening, around seven o' clock. She was tied with her hands above her head, and then both of the arteries in each of her wrists were severed with a sharp blade. Before she was killed though, she was whipped and sexually abused."

"For fuck's sake," said Pansy. "I didn't think that this could get worse."

"We're not releasing any of these details to the public, obviously," said Weasley. "It's too disturbing, and with everything that happened after the war, we want to try and keep panic to a minimum."

"Is that the right move?" Pansy asked softly. "I know why you're doing it, but if the wizarding world find out we've kept things from them, there'll be an uproar. And what about her family?"

"They don't need to know about the abuse, Pans. It'll just hurt them more."

Pansy rested her head on the desk in front of her. "I hate this," she said.

"Me too." Weasley's hand on her shoulder was warm and comforting.

* * *

Pansy was expecting Padma to be in bed when she got home, but after Apparating outside the house she saw that the bedroom light was on. She was glad; it had been a long, hard few days and she needed the comfort of Padma's arms.

Ten minutes later, they were lying in bed together, Pansy's head on Padma's breasts. Padma stroked her hair soothingly.

"There's only so much I can say about the case," said Pansy. "But it's awful. The worst one I've worked. And I mean that."

"It's Rebecca Corner, isn't it?" asked Padma. "I saw it in the Prophet this afternoon. They didn't say how she'd died, just that foul play was suspected."

"Oh, it's more than suspected. Some fucker killed her, and we're going to hunt them down. It's a shame there aren't Dementors in Azkaban anymore."

"They'll get what they deserve, my darling."

"I hope so."

They didn't make love that night, but they slept tightly wrapped around one another. For the first time since they had started their relationship, Pansy was frightened that she was going to lose Padma.

* * *

Pansy had an owl from Lily Luna the next morning. She felt a stirring in her stomach, like the way she used to feel for Padma, the way she'd felt for others in the first months of a relationship when nothing is certain. The other person was a mystery and all she could do was hope beyond hope that the sound of her name on their lips made them tingle.

Auror Parkinson,
I need to talk to you.
Lily Luna Potter

Pansy wondered if Lily had a lead, or if she just needed to talk. Either way, she Apparated straight over to Lily's flat before going to the Ministry, after a quick owl to Weasley saying where she'd gone. It paid to be careful.

She took a breath and knocked on the door.

"Auror Parkinson," Lily said when she opened the door.

"Oh, Lily," said Pansy. She couldn't help herself. Lily's face was red and blotchy; her hair was thrown up into a pony tail and looked as though it hadn't been washed in a week. She looked terrible.

"I can't… I'm sorry," the girl said. "I don't know what to do."

"Come on," said Pansy. "I'll get you a cup of tea, and then we can talk."

Making tea in a virtual stranger's kitchen was not something Pansy did every day, but she managed to find everything in the end. Lily's kitchen was tiny; Pansy wasn't exactly overweight (twenty years of living on black coffee and the occasional take out wasn't a recipe for huge weight gain) but she could barely fit in it.

"There you go," she said, sitting down next to Lily and putting the cup on the table. "Are you alright?"

"Pansy, you said you'd find her."

Pansy felt like crying herself. "I am so sorry," she said. "I let you down. We just weren't quick enough to save her. We had no idea… nothing to go on. This guy is good. Would it help if I told you we are going to find him, and we are going to bring him to justice?"

"No," said Lily Luna. "No… I want to hurt him, Pansy."

"I do too," said Pansy.

"I kissed her once, you know."

Pansy didn't know what to say.

"We were drunk. No, that's a lie, she was drunk, and I was sober. I fancied her all through school and one night in the dorm in seventh year she got rat arsed and came on to me. So I kissed her back. We never talked about it after and I never apologised."

"You don't need to feel guilty, sweetheart. I never met her, but she didn't seem like the type of girl to hold a grudge."

"I just wish we'd spoken about it… There was so much stuff we said we were going to do together, and we never did…"

"Lily, you can't do this to yourself. The first murder case I worked on, we'd brought the guy in for questioning, for something else, the day before. And we let him go, and he fucking killed someone. I spent months dwelling on that. But you can't do it, you'll drive yourself mad."

Pansy was surprised by Lily grabbing hold of her and burying her face in her neck. Muffled, she said, "I'm trying… I'm trying."

Lily pulled back and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, Auror Parkinson."

"I've told you, call me Pansy. And this is what I'm here for, it's my job." She knew this was a lie; she shouldn't be making house calls and wasting time comforting pretty young girls when there was a killer to find, but she didn't want to leave. Lily was so alluring. "Are you keeping yourself busy? It'll be worse if you dwell on it."

"I… I think I'll be okay today. I'm going out for lunch with my brother, and maybe some shopping after. Albus loves to shop."

"Are you sure? Do you want me to stop by when I finish work?"

Lily smiled. "That would be a great help. It's the evenings that are the worst, you know? When it's too early to go to bed, but too late to really go out and do anything?"

"I'll be back at about 7:30," said Pansy. She was really just doing her duty as a good Auror, making sure her witnesses were alright. At least, that was how she justified it to herself.

* * *

It was another fruitless day at the Ministry. Weasley paced the room as Pansy trawled through witness reports and statements from the night of the murder.

Around lunchtime, she lost it with him. "Will you sit down? I can barely concentrate on reading with all the shuffling and grunting you're doing. For Merlin's sake, do something useful, Weasley! I know we're all in shock, but you're a fucking Auror. You need to get your shit together."

To her surprise, he listened to her. Running his hand over his face and then through his red hair, he sat down.

"I'm sorry," he said, and pulled a stack of parchment towards him. They worked for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening in almost complete silence, only speaking to ask if the other wanted a coffee, or to pass some more parchment over. At seven o' clock, Weasley grunted, "I'm going home," stood up, and left. Pansy felt utterly drained, but managed to organise the parchment and banish the coffee cups to the cafeteria before she did the same.

She didn't Apparate directly to Lily's flat, but went by the Thames instead. It was her favourite thing about London; leaning against the metal railing, feeling the breeze off the black water in her hair made her feel free, in direct counterpart to the way that the Ministry made her feel, or even the flat she shared with Padma. The Thames allowed her to be alone with her thoughts, without ever being truly alone, like a companion sitting in the same room, never speaking, but comforting with their presence alone.

She cast a discreet Tempus Charm, in case any Muggles were nearby. It was almost eight o' clock, and she was late for Lily Luna. She sighed. Half an hour, she promised herself, and no more. She really did have to spend some time with Padma, make up for her trip and all the hours she had worked lately.

It was with this intention that she knocked on Lily's door.

"Hi, Pansy. Come in," said the girl brightly. Pansy noticed that she looked much better; she had washed her hair, and once again it tumbled over her breasts, which, Pansy couldn't help but see, were on the verge of escaping from her top. Merlin, fuck, is she even wearing a bra?

"You look like you're feeling better," she said as she entered the flat. It looked like it had been cleaned, too, with none of the coffee cups or tissues that had been in abundance earlier. There was an open bottle of Firewhisky on the table, though, two-thirds full. "Have you been drinking?"

Lily giggled, and Pansy realised that she was drunk. She shouldn't have come. She should have Owled, said she couldn't make it. But it was too late now.

"Relax," said Lily, suddenly seeming more coherent. "I've had a few. Albus brought it over, said I'd feel better. And I do, so don't worry. I've had a lot more than this and still managed to walk in a straight line."

Pansy relaxed a little.

"Want a glass?" Lily tipped the bottle towards her.

"Sure. Have you any ice?" It had been a long day, and it was only one drink, after all. There was nothing wrong with having one drink.

Lily took the glass into the kitchen and rummaged in the freezer. "Yeah. On the rocks, then?"

"Please." Pansy heard the clink of ice on glass, and the glugging of Firewhisky, before Lily brought it back and handed it to her, taking a seat on the sofa next to her, cradling her own drink. "So, how was your lunch?"

"It was great. Albus is just in from San Francisco for the week – he works over there now, apparently he doesn't get stopped in the street as much as he does here, and he's got some sort of swanky apartment. He said I should go and visit him sometime, but I don't know. I like England. I don't want to fall in love with San Francisco and then have to come home, y'know?" Lily hugged her knees, and Pansy was reminded how young she really was.

"It might be different for you, but I've travelled all over the world and never fallen in love with anywhere as much as I love London."

"Not even Italy? I loved it when we went there. It was so sunny and beautiful. I tried to run away so I could live there. I was only fourteen."

Pansy snorted. "Merlin, no. Italians are so… pushy."

Lily smiled. "That's true." Pansy loved the way Lily's smile quirked up at one corner first, then spread across her whole face. She was so beautiful.

"So, how was work? Did you make any progress on the case?"

Pansy put her glass down on the coffee table. "You know I'm not supposed to talk about it, right?"

"I know. I'm sorry. I just… I want to help, somehow. I don't know."

Pansy put a hand on her arm again, feeling how soft her skin was. "I know. We haven't had any breakthroughs, yet. That's all I can tell you. I'm guessing your uncle won't tell you, either?"

Lily grimaced. "Nope. Nobody ever really sees him, anyway. He's always at work. Aunt Hermione is always ranting on about how he spends more time with you than her."

Pansy laughed; she couldn't help it. "It's probably true, but trust me, Lily, there is nothing to be jealous of. Most of the time we don't even speak, just make each other cups of coffee."

"That's sweet."

"Not really. The coffee's disgusting. It's more of a competition as to who can drink the most without complaining. I'm sure the cafeteria staff are in on it."

Lily laughed. They sat in companionable silence for a while then, sipping their drinks, before Pansy asked Lily about her days at Hogwarts. It seemed the only thing they really had in common. Pansy felt herself relaxing, and didn't protest when her glass was topped up. The alcohol was warm in her stomach and she needed a rest after the stress of the case. She tried to forget it was ongoing.

As her second drink slipped down her throat, Pansy slowly became aware that she was relaxed. Too relaxed; it wasn't natural, not for an Auror.

"Lily, what the fuck?" Pansy slurred. She'd had two glasses of Firewhisky but she felt as though she'd drunk the whole bottle. "What did you do?"

"I need comfort, Pansy," Lily said. "I need you."

"Why? Why do you need me?"

"Because you were there for me. You put your hand on my arm. And you let me hold you. I can feel it, Pansy. I could hear your heart beating faster when I was pressed close to you… When my breasts were pressed against yours. You want me, and I want you." Her hand kneaded Pansy's breast through her work blouse, and Pansy could feel her nipples stiffen.

"So why… What have you given me?"

"It's just something to make you want me more. I knew you wanted me, but I knew you wouldn't let yourself unless I helped you." Lily was on top of her; Pansy didn't know how that had happened, but Lily was kissing her neck and still touching her breast, and she smelled so good. It felt so good, and her big dark eyes were staring at Pansy as she worked her fingers lower toward the opening of Pansy's trousers. Pansy stared at those long fingers as they unbuttoned her trousers. Lily stood up so she could pull them off, and flung them onto the chair on the opposite side of the room. She pushed Pansy's legs apart as wide as they could go, and stared hungrily at Pansy's cunt.

Pansy propped herself up on her elbows; she felt like a spectator, like she wasn't even there, but watching from a distance. And she wanted Lily.

Lily buried her face in Pansy and all Pansy could do was try to remember to breathe; she licked first up her slit, then parted Pansy's folds with her tongue. Pansy could tell how wet she was already, and Lily's tongue was fast making her soaking. Then she felt fingers probing gently at her opening, and thrust towards them.

"Fuck, fuck," she grunted. Her speech was slurred, the world seemed to be spinning, and not just because of what Lily was doing. Fingers entered her skilfully; she wasn't sure how many, and Lily's tongue continued to work its magic. The sensation of the fingers slipping in and out of her, the tongue on her clit, the swirling of the room… It was all too much. She came apart, shaking and moaning.

She passed out as Lily's fingers left her.

* * *

When she awoke, light was coming in through the window. She was still lying on the sofa, naked from the waist down, although there was a blanket over her legs. She remembered, fuzzily, most that had happened the previous night. Lily. Lily's tongue. Lily's fingers.

"Good morning." Lily leaned against the doorframe leading to her bedroom, wearing a pair of tiny shorts and a tank top that covered almost nothing. Pansy stared at her, and Lily bit her lip, looking away.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" asked Pansy angrily. She clutched the blanket tighter around her nakedness, seated on the sofa. She felt as though she should be standing. She was an Auror, for fuck's sake. Where was her wand?

"I'm sorry… I was drunk. I wanted you… and I'd seen the way you looked at me but I know you have that woman that you live with and I knew you wouldn't. I was just giving us what we both wanted."

"Lily," said Pansy. "I did want you, but not like that. Never like that."

Lily hung her head, then looked back up at Pansy. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I thought it was a good idea."

"I'm leaving," Pansy said.

* * *

She Owled Padma from the Ministry; she was already late. It didn't escape Weasley's notice that she was in the same clothes as yesterday. She could tell from his face, but he didn't say anything.

They got a small break that day. Rebecca Corner had last been seen talking to someone on a street corner in Soho. Nobody knew why she had been there, but nevertheless there she had been and it was a lead. A team of Aurors was dispatched to the site immediately, Pansy included.

They looked around for an hour, but found nothing.

* * *

She received an owl from Lily Luna the next day, asking her to go over. Pansy was wary, as she should be. She wouldn't have gone, if it wasn't for the fact that Lily said she had uncovered some new information. Clearly, she had been sleuthing. Pansy shook her head as she gathered up some parchment from her desk and tossed it into the corner. Kids these days always thought themselves invincible. When she was Lily's age, she had feared for her life every day. But times had changed.

She Owled Padma, a quick note to tell her she had more work tonight, but would try to make it home. The reply said simply, "I miss you."

* * *

"I'll help you, Pansy," said Lily. "Aunt Hermione used some old map to make up a spell to find anyone, anywhere in the world. You just keep doing that, and if I'm not in my flat or at the corner of the street where Rebecca was taken, you can come and get me straight away."

"Lily, using yourself as bait is not a good idea."

"You'll come and get me straight away; I know you will. I'll help you catch whoever did this to Rebecca, I promise."

It was too good to resist. She could find the bastard, and maybe her wand would slip and she could do some damage before she called the other Aurors. It would be the capture of her career. Pansy sighed. "I'll be waiting, Lily Luna Potter. I'll come and find you."

"I love you, Pansy."

Pansy kissed Lily on the forehead and held her tightly for a moment. When she was away from Lily, all she could think of was what had been done to her, but when in Lily's presence, she couldn't help but forgive her. She hated herself for it.

"I'll see you soon."

She went home. Padma was out, as she often was, probably at Parvati's. Sometimes they were like ships passing in the night, with Pansy's long hours. Padma probably hadn't expected her home, despite the note, or perhaps had decided to spend the whole weekend there. It wasn't uncommon; Pansy's hours were so variable that they had long ago stopped waiting in for one another.

She had to think, for once. What she was doing with Lily, what she had done, was unforgivable. Padma wasn't the love of Pansy's life, but their relationship was solid, and just because the spark had faded somewhat in recent years it was no excuse. She couldn't tell Padma, it would hurt her too much. And the idea of starting anew with a girl who had effectively raped her, never mind being young enough to be her daughter, was ridiculous. Pansy should have arrested her, shouldn't even be considering it.

She sat down on the sofa, cup of coffee on the table in front of her, and cast the spell Lily had taught her every ten minutes or so. Lily was still at her flat, perhaps waiting until the time Rebecca had been taken, or perhaps getting ready. She didn't know.

Pansy waited.

* * *

She woke up. It was 3am.

"Fuck, fuck," she said, fumbling for her wand. "Invenio!"

Letters came curling out of her wand, forming an address in the air.

It wasn't Lily Luna's flat, and it wasn't the street corner. Pansy groaned aloud.

She Apparated to the outside of the address, a house set back from the street. It was just like the house where they'd found Rebecca Corner's body, and she knew where to look.

As she descended the basement stairs, she cursed herself for not Owling Weasley. But there hadn't been time; she had to save Lily.

The lights were on in the basement. Lily Luna Potter hung, naked, by the wrists from chains in the ceiling. There was no blood from her wrists, but Pansy didn't know if she was alive.

She ran to her.

"Lily, are you alright? Fuck, fuck, I have to get you out of here. I'm so sorry." Now that she was closer, she could tell Lily had been whipped. She fumbled with the chains around Lily's wrists.

"Pansy, please don't do that."

Pansy froze, and closed her eyes. Of course.

"Padma…"

"My darling, I got her for you."

"I don't understand." Pansy turned around. Padma stood there, her Padma, a conciliatory smile on her face.

"I love you. I always have, and I always will. I can't let these silly little girls take you away, darling. They need to pay for what they did to you. Before she passed out, little Lily Luna told me everything that happened between you. She raped you. She drugged you and I had to make her pay."

"And Rebecca Corner?"

"You were drunk; I know you didn't mean to. She said she didn't force you, but I know she lied. I could see it in her eyes. You have to know. I just wanted them to feel what you felt when they hurt you."

"Padma, please, not like this."

"I'm doing this for you."

"You know there are Aurors on their way right now, don't you?"

"You're lying. I know you are. I've known you for our whole lives, Pans. Do you think I can't tell when you lie? When you say you're working late, but you're with this little bitch? When you come home reeking of Firewhisky and say you've been with Weasley, but I can smell someone else's come on your hands and mouth?"

"I'm leaving, Padma."

"No, you're not. You're not because if you do, I'll kill this little slut. If you do, your fingerprints are here. You've been here. They'll know it was you, and your tart will be dead."

Pansy stared at her, and then looked over at Lily Luna, who had regained consciousness sometime while Padma was ranting.

"Pansy, please, help me!" she cried. There were fresh tears running down her face.

Padma grabbed Pansy by the waist and steered her towards Lily.

"If you do everything I tell you, I will let her live."

"Please," begged Lily.

"Padma, don't…" said Pansy.

Padma pressed the whip into Pansy's hand.

"Don't make me kill this one, too."

Pansy looked at Padma then Lily Luna crying and thrashing and twisting on the chains. She looked at the whip in her hand and towards the door, towards the stairs that would lead them to freedom. She closed her eyes.

"I love you," she said.

And then she turned, and brought the whip down.

Echoes of War - a gift for flipflop_diva!

scarletladyy — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 21:15:22 GMT

Title: Echoes of War
Author: pretty_panther
Recipient: flipflop_diva
Pairing(s): Luna Lovegood/Hermione Granger
Word Count: 1440
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Depression and mentions of torture.
Summary: Hermione shuts down after coming back from Australia. The Ministry remains in chaos and it isn't safe for her to start work in the Wizarding world but she doesn't feel she belongs in the Muggle world either. For lack of anything else to do she becomes Head Girl and returns to Hogwarts, lost within her own mind and with only one person willing to keep trying to pull her out of it.
Author's Notes: Really loved the prompt given and tried to do it justice.

Hermione shuts down after returning from Australia with her parents. Everything catches up with her, crashes into her like a tidal wave, making her bones ache with fatigue. The Ministry is still being put back together, supporters of the Dark Lord who were not marked being weeded out and interviews of those who claimed to act purely out of fear seem endless. It is not safe for Hermione to join the workforce just yet, she is told, and really she is just too exhausted to argue. Her parents can't look her in the eye, don't trust her in the slightest anymore, and flinch any time Hermione pulls her wand out. It had lingered around her as a student but now more than ever she feels caught between two worlds, not quite fitting in with either.

It isn't time to get a job in the Wizarding world and given she doesn't want to live there it seems pointless to get one in the Muggle world. When she is offered the chance to go back to Hogwarts she goes because she has nothing better to do with her time. The badge on her chest feels heavy, more like a burden than anything else. For years she had aspired to it but being Head Girl doesn't seem so important after you've destroyed pieces of a madman's soul and helped to save the world. She almost feels it should go to someone who wasn't so involved, who still sees school as the pinnacle of their achievements, and then she remembered the war was inside the walls of Hogwarts too. She takes classes with people who have been forced to torture their classmates and has no idea which ones of them enjoyed it and never told anyone. Now that it is all over she realises how much of her life had been directed towards ending Voldemort. She had to be the best because Harry needed her. It wasn't all about school like she thought. Now, she only has school and it seems so simple and easy compared to the outside world.

Ginny and Luna return with her, both jaded and uncertain. They have memories of a different sort to deal with upon their return. Luna is happy to be back at the school but there is a distance between her and Hermione that wasn't there before. It is not a distance created by lack of understanding or frustration about differences, but one of guilt. Now she knows her father sold them out, and even if she was found in the same prison, the scar on Hermione's arm still feels a little like her fault. She had listened to Hermione's screams and they still haunt her dreams.

She watches as Hermione retreats into herself, keeps her hand down in classes and hands in assignments on autopilot. She only ever seems alive when an owl arrives from Harry, but he is busy training and they are rare. Ron, she has never forgiven for leaving them. While Luna's dreams are of Hermione screaming, the Gryffindor remembers guarding a tent containing their only leads, one wand between them, and little hope.

For someone who fought for this world they are living in, it doesn't seem to Luna like she is enjoying it and so she vows, 'If you won't save yourself, then I'll have to do it for you'.

Too bad Hermione doesn't want to be saved. Part of her enjoys the lack of contact from her parents, the absence of their bi-weekly letters with school owls because she feels she deserves it, deserves the silence. She decided that because she was a witch and they were Muggles that she knew what was best for them and that feels too close to something else, something darker and evil.

Luna attempts to insert herself into Hermione's life. The house tables don't matter anymore and people sit where they like or where there is space by the time they appear. There are Ravenclaws who would rather sit with the Hufflepuffs they fought Death Eaters with than the housemates who fled. Hermione has taken to drifting towards a different table with every meal and it takes her until dinner time to notice Luna is happily following her around the hall.

"I don't think I'm that great company, Luna."

"No, you're not really. But that is why I'm sitting here," Luna replies serenely before serving herself some pudding. Hermione looks at her for a moment and then shrugs, almost to herself. She had never understood Luna before and there is no reason she should now. The blonde's life is easier at Hogwarts than it used to be. There is a certain respect in the air around her now people know what happened to her and how she got through it. She is still smiling, still wearing weird necklaces and occasionally shoes that don't match. War changes everyone and yet Luna is a reminder of before.

Hermione can see what she is doing, the way she is trying to coax her out of her shell like Ginny and so many others have tried since the battle, but she feels numb to it. The darkness pools around her eyes, her dreams are filled with cackling laughter and knives pressed into pale skin, as her image fades from her parent's photographs. Her head feels constantly heavy, her eyes always tired, and though she recognises the symptoms of depression in herself, Hermione doesn't want to do anything about it.

Still, Luna drags her forcefully from breakfast on Saturdays and out into the sun. Ginny and their other friends are always waiting and Luna pushes her down onto the blankets by the lake and makes her sit with them, makes her exist outside of her own bubble until she stops resisting so much when she is pulled from her seat. She chats to Hermione over dinner until Hermione finally starts answering her, offering up mentions of her own day, and then finally smiling just a little. Luna breaks down Hermione's barriers so slowly the Gryffindor doesn't notice it happening. Then the things Luna says stop seeming so ridiculous. After all, Hermione had never thought there were truly dragons under London's streets guarding vaults and yet that had turned out to be true. Maybe the creatures Luna speaks of exist, somewhere. Hermione isn't so sure of anything anymore. Books had only helped her so far on the run and it wasn't her intelligence that held out against Bellatrix.

She still reads, anything and everything really, but she becomes the one sitting waiting patiently for Luna to finish her breakfast before taking her hand and leading her from the hall and out to the lake. As the weather gets colder less of her friends come, but they remain with jars of blue fire in old sweet jars perched between them. For Luna, who had spent so long confined, every moment of freedom and fresh air is cherished, and for Hermione, the chill and shivers connect the Hermione who spent the year on the run and the Hermione who now sits in classrooms trying to exist as if it never happened.

Hermione avoids the common room and spends a lot of time in the Great Hall, library or making herself useful repairing parts of the castle under the watchful eyes of the teachers. It is hard to return to an environment that treats you as a child requiring so much supervision and boundaries when she has lived an adult life and made all the decisions for herself. It allows Luna to spend more time with her and they work together trying to make the castle what it was. Hermione gains respect for Luna's abilities and Luna thinks maybe she is starting to pull herself out of the dark place she had found herself in. It has taken months and she still isn't quite free, but she's getting there. Often, after they finish a section of repairs, Hermione's fingers are coated with dust and dirt and Luna finds that fitting. It is like she is slowly clawing herself free of her own mind.

"Are you ready to talk now?" Luna asks her, as February gives way to March, and the other students start venturing back out to the lake again.

"No, not yet, but I'm getting there." Hermione smiles, leaning over the grass to kiss Luna softly on the edge of her mouth before pulling back and contently returning to her book. Luna beams at nothing and pulls her fabric and ribbons from her satchel and gets back to working on her newest hat. There is Quidditch tomorrow, and more importantly, there is life after that.

Sisters Most Snakelike - a gift for The Community!

scarletladyy — Tue, 26 Nov 2013 14:00:16 GMT

Title: Sisters Most Snakelike
Author: reg_flint
Recipient: The Community
Pairing(s): Bellatrix/Narcissa, Narcissa/Lucius (three days before their wedding)
Word Count: 1149
Rating: R to NC-17
Warnings: Blackcest, dub-con, implied BDSM, use of the Imperius Curse
Summary: Bellatrix waits outside Wiltshire Manor to see if she can lead Narcissa into going on a sex spree with her before Narcissa is married. Any means to and end? Hehe.
Author's Notes: I tried to take it further but writing explicit scenes? I suck at it. Let your imagination go...

Bellatrix slowly licked her lips as she drew closer to her target. A snowflake hit the tip of her tongue as she took in her surroundings.

Dark and rural, rich as her, and just as filthy on the inside.

Once again, she had her back pressed into the hedgerow outside Wiltshire Manor, almost next to the front door. Her victim was worthy of her, she thought, but not as worthy as her true prey.

For a millisecond, an inward vision of what she craved flashed before her eyes , then one nanosecond later, it was back on the Dark Lord. He would not begrudge her; it was not a betrayal of him. She would not set herself any real target but the Dark Lord.

In the meantime, while she beckoned, she could pursue a far more feminine and sinuously sumptuous dish: one kiss of her flesh, whether lips or ...lips. She shifted herself in the new, late November snow.

Bellatrix loved her sister Narcissa in a most lustful way. She wanted to protect her from a life of servitude. For the ninth time, she thought, this will be it.

She peered around the tall green white-topped hedge. Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the car, his hand leading to Narcissa's. Neither wore a wedding band yet, but Narcissa wore an engagement ring. Bella's breath came quick and fast as she saw it. She made up her mind, and cast a silent spell:

Imperio!

Any means to an end, they said. Bellatrix gave a most dark giggle as she thought of it. It was an ugly sound for a noble purpose, wasn't it? Hah! she thought as she watched Lucius follow his intended out of the shiny silvery-green car.

What matter did it make? She would get exactly what she wanted, or she wasn't the Dark Lord's most faithful. Oh, that she was.

She focused her thoughts.

"Don't know why I bother with you sometimes, you know. Your humour is puerile and your ideas so banal." Lucius drawled out his insults most convincingly. Bellatrix grinned and felt like cackling, but she wanted to remain hidden and so smirked as she planned the next bit of his speech.

Narcissa fixed her cloak collar so that it buried her stark blonde hair. She clearly also wanted to fix her companion.

"L-Lucius? What do you mean? Darling, you need a drink. Whether you deserve it or not."

Lucius merely gave her a blank grey stare.

"You've been so vile to me, every night. I said I was yours, but that does not mean I am without limits." Narcissa tapped her toe as she spoke and the very Black I-want line between her eyes creased more deeply.

"You fetch me a drink and bring me my slippers in your mouth," Lucius sneered at her.

"Is this a taste of marriage to you?" Narcissa demanded. Bellatrix could imagine her leaving him, but she did not want her sister long-term, just as a jaunty trip away from her usual tasks. All she wanted was a mere taste of her, but not a whole mouthful. She relaxed her mental grip, ceasing her Imperius Curse.

"Pardon, darling?"

"Oh, ha ha! Very witty. You don't remember again?"

"Remember... I remember..." Lucius apparently did not want to remember having a voice in his head. He would not give up his sanity for the sake of some game the sisters were playing.

"I'm sorry if I said anything untoward," Lucius conceded, turning a bit pink as he said it.

"That had better be an understatement!" Narcissa snapped.

Lucius made the mistake of shaking his head. Narcissa gathered her thick black winter cloak around her slim form, beating back the winds. He slammed the door, leaving his fiancée on the snow-covered gravel pathway. She was about to Disapparate when Bellatrix stepped out from behind her hedge and beckoned Narcissa to her side.

"You said you were upset last night; I just got your owl a minute ago. Can I be an ear for your troubles?" Bellatrix asked in a voice that had not yet been harshened by Azkaban, but was not melodious in any way.

"Lucius... he has grown distant and insulting, almost beastly… and we are to be married in three days time." A thick tear crept from beneath her left lash to be joined by others on the right.

"It will be fine, Cissy. Have a touch of brandy." Bellatrix took a bottle out of her embroidered left robe pocket. "Here."

Narcissa reproachfully eyed Bellatrix, then took the bottle and swallowed about three ounces at once. It wasn't anything but brandy, but that suited Bellatrix just fine. It still slowed Narcissa down. It had slowed down many prey in Bellatrix' travels.

"Let's go somewhere more homey. Grasp my arm, Narcissa. To the ever vacant flat you own in London, I think!"

Narcissa nodded, her shoulders shuddering with emotion. Soon they were outside the flat, after having been pressured in every direction with the Apparition. Bellatrix gave a guttural guffaw as she lifted her sister in her arms.

Narcissa was glad of the care, but it didn't suit her sister one bit. She grew wary as she was deposited outside her flat on a brightly lit road that seemed part of a different life, during the time when she still went about with girls and had no ambition but to marry a suitable man and produce an heir. Well, she had wanted love, too, but now it seemed that only marriage and an heir were possible. If that. Her tears came more quickly still.

Soon Narcissa was in her bedroom, and had taken a second, equally huge draught of brandy.

Bellatrix wanted a woman, but this was all wrong. She wanted to see Narcissa naked, came the thought.

Yet not at the expense of sisterhood. Family. Blood, but what of pureblood decadence? No, no, no.

And then she realised these thoughts were inside her, not of her, and she was frightened.

Just one kiss, came the voice. Just ask for one kiss. Aaaaanywhere.

Narcissa took more brandy when it was offered, with a very drunken 'yes.'

"Now!" Narcissa cried, and Bellatrix pulled out a riding crop and handcuffs, nipple clamps and a paddle…

How long had it been since Narcissa had been spanked? Bellatrix wondered.

Narcissa smiled, something Bellatrix did not expect.

In one movement Narcissa had Bellatrix on her front, her hands bound by silken rope, not handcuffs, her pain transmuted to power with her realisation.

Narcissa began to rant.

"You've been Imperiusing Lucius. For the last eight to ten nights. Always the same, making him snarl petty insults. I see now. You think you are a clever snake; I out-slithered you this time. I will not be vile to you, but show you all kinds of pleasure you can never repeat for your fear of not surrendering to the Dark Lord's will."

Bellatrix lay panting, her eyes huge. "Shall we begin with a kiss?" She cackled.

They Withered All - a gift for chokolattejedi!

scarletladyy — Mon, 25 Nov 2013 23:46:44 GMT

Title: They Withered All
Author/Artist: writcraft
Recipient: chokolattejedi
Pairing(s): Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter, Arthur Weasley
Word Count: ~5,700
Medium: Gimp 2.10, ink, sketch
Rating: R
Warnings: Horror, Major Character Death
Summary: Pansy and Ginny have never been friends, but after Hogwarts they find themselves in the same places, with a similar group of friends. One evening when Pansy comes to her for help, Ginny becomes more embroiled in Pansy's life than she ever thought possible.
Author's Notes: I had a lot of fun with both the fic and art for this piece. Thank you so much to the ever patient moderator. I really enjoyed creating this for you, chokolattejedi and I do hope it ticks your boxes. Thank you so much to M for alpha reading and cheerleading, and to A for beta reading. The quote at the start and the title are taken from Hamlet.

"Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards
yawn and hell itself breathes out contagion to this world.
Now I could drink hot blood and do such bitter business
as the day would quake to look upon."

"I think I'm being followed." Pansy Parkinson sits next to Ginny as if they are old friends and offers her something pink and toxic looking. "Drink?"

"No. Thanks." Ginny looks at the drink warily and lifts her bottled beer. "I'm fine."

"Beer?" Pansy sneers and then her features smooth. "Beer makes you fat."

"Is that right?" Ginny arches an eyebrow and Pansy waves her hand dismissively.

"Not that you need to worry with all of the Quidditch you play. You have the figure of a fifteen year old boy."

"Do you always have to be such a bitch?" Ginny snorts and finishes her beer.

"It's a compliment." Pansy stops Ginny from leaving by placing a hand on her arm. "Didn't you hear what I said when I sat down?"

"I heard, I just didn't particularly care." Ginny wonders what on earth she's doing in this too-loud, too-bright club, spending time with people who seem to think Pansy Parkinson is a good sort. Ginny always finds herself here when Quidditch season finishes, and every time she leaves wondering why she bothered coming in the first place.

"Well that's not very nice." Pansy glares at her drink and stirs it with her straw. "Lavender said you could help."

"She did?" Ginny tries not to let her surprise show and shrugs. "I'm not sure how."

"She thinks you're braver than most." Pansy turns to Ginny and cocks her head to the side. "Is it true that you're queer?"

"It's really none of your business." Ginny grits her teeth because the way Pansy says the word queer sounds like an insult. "I know I couldn't give two hoots about who you sleep with."

"So it is true." Pansy's shriek of laughter grates on Ginny's nerves and she looks for the best way of extricating herself from the conversation. "I remember the days when you and Potter were love's young dream. Lavender suggested I talk to him first, but he's otherwise engaged."

"I noticed." Ginny watches Harry dance – badly – looking like he no longer has a care in the world. She still feels a rush of affection for him when she sees him like this, happy and free from troubles. "Don't bother him with this, whatever this is. I'll help if I can." Ginny takes the decision to listen to Pansy, largely so Harry doesn't have to and settles back in her seat with a huff of resignation.

"You will?" Pansy looks relieved and sips her drink.

"I have nothing better to do." Ginny gestures for another beer and listens, as Pansy begins to talk.

* * *

Ginny steps outside the club and shivers under the cool breeze, half expecting to see somebody lurking in the shadows.

There is nothing.

The street is quiet and still, and the only sound Ginny can hear is the heavy rainfall and the whisper of the wind. She Apparates to her Muggle flat, deep in the heart of London's West End and relishes the sounds of people laughing and talking on the streets outside. She flicks on the lights and the television to try to drown out her thoughts, thinking not for the first time that Muggle properties have their distinct advantages.

I think I'm being followed.

Ginny can't put her finger on it, but something feels off. Pansy's insistent chatter has left her unsettled and she watches the fire flicker and flame, causing shadows to rise and fall over the walls.

Pansy seemed so certain. She had talked of strange things happening in her home – of items misplaced and shuffled around while she slept. Whenever she walked anywhere alone, she told Ginny she could have sworn she heard more than one set of footfall.

The window creaks and something in the kitchen clatters to the floor, startling Ginny from her thoughts. She opens the door to see a recently washed pan on the floor, having fallen from being carelessly placed on the washboard from a hasty breakfast. Ginny picks up the pan and shoves it into a nearby cupboard. She checks the windows and double-checks the doors.

That night, she sleeps with the lights blazing.

* * *

"Somebody did something to my flowers."

"Come in, please." Ginny responds with more than a hint of sarcasm.

"I intend to." Pansy pushes her way past Ginny into the flat and pulls off her gloves. Ginny can't remember the last time she saw Pansy in the pinks and floral she used to favour – now Pansy dresses in sharp tailored lines and expensive vintage.

"Why are you here?" Ginny locks the door securely behind them and guides Pansy into the living room.

"Because you said you'd help and something else has happened." Pansy settles and reaches for the wine Ginny had left out for the evening. "May I?"

"Why not?" Ginny rolls her eyes and raises her glass to Pansy. It's probably not a bad idea to turn to the booze if Pansy plans to stay.

"I always have flowers in the living room. Roses, in a glass bowl." Pansy moves her hands as if to show Ginny how precisely the bowl is shaped. "They were fresh this morning. I went about my usual business and changed for the evening. I came back down and they had withered completely. The flowers were brown and the petals had fallen off the stems."

"Perhaps you have ghosts that don't like your interior design?" Ginny chuckles and stops when Pansy glares.

"I knew I should have spoken to Harry – he's a proper hero and you're not taking me seriously at all."

"You're in my home, drinking my wine and considering the way you've behaved towards me in the past, I'd say you should be grateful I'm listening at all. Don't you think it's possible you're imagining things?"

"I suppose if you're going to be like that I shall have to tell you everything." Pansy looks put out and drums her fingers on her knee. "It's more than just things going bump in the night, you see. It's like there's something clawing at the walls, and there's always something just there – to the side of me, behind me, in the shadows which move in the corner of my eye."

"Even now?" Ginny looks around the room but it's peaceful and still.

"Yes." Pansy shivers. "Even now."

* * *

"You're not the only one who likes other women, you know."

"No?" Ginny wonders if Pansy has had too much wine, but the bottle's only half empty and the night is still young. "Funny, it sounded as though you thought the idea of being queer was hilarious – or distasteful."

"Well I'm not thrilled about it." Pansy huffs and folds her arms. "It's damned inconvenient, given I could have been a Malfoy if I had been better able to tolerate having sex with Draco."

"From what I hear it sounds like it might have been a struggle for him too." Ginny laughs and tops up their wine. "I've never seen you out and about with anyone. Since Malfoy, that is."

"I don't tend to put myself on display." Pansy arches her eyebrow at Ginny. "Unlike some."

"You're such a cow." Ginny glares at Pansy. "A few kisses here and there is hardly putting myself on display."

"More than a few." Pansy laughs and the sound grates on Ginny's nerves.

"I don't really need advice from you on how I live my life, thanks."

"No need to get your knickers in a twist." Pansy feigns innocence and holds her hand up in a gesture of defence, before the colour leaves her cheeks. "Did you hear that?"

"No – you're imagining things." Ginny strains to hear any sound, but there's nothing.

"I'm not - just listen, would you?" Pansy pleads with Ginny and points upwards. "Footsteps."

"There's nothing – you're being ridiculous." Ginny sees how terrified Pansy looks and sighs, listening again. She's about to protest when she hears it. A steady thud, almost like footfall sounds above them. The stairs creak and the sound moves across the ceiling before stopping – still.

"There's somebody in the house."

"Nonsense – there's no one here. I've been in all day and I checked everything was locked after you scared the living daylights out of me the other night." Ginny stands and folds her arms. "I'm going to check what's going on."

"Don't leave me here by myself." Pansy stands, hurriedly.

"Come with me, then."

"I'd rather not." Pansy looks uncertain and her gaze flickers upstairs. "I don't want to."

"Then stay, I couldn't care less." Ginny shakes her head and makes her way upstairs, her irritation and impatience assuaging her fear for the moment.

"Ginny?"

Pansy's voice sounds far away now, desperate and uncertain.

"I'll just be a minute." The skin on the back of her neck prickles and the room is colder than usual. Ginny can hear the thudding sound again and she swings open the door to the bathroom. A window has become unlatched and it moves back and forth in the night air, hitting against the frames. "It's fine, Pansy. Just the window." Ginny laughs with relief and closes it tightly, ignoring the sense of unease which rises inside her when she thinks of the way she checked the windows - every window – earlier that evening.

"I'm not sure it's just the window…" Pansy's voice sounds small and higher than usual and Ginny moves downstairs to see Pansy clutching her hands together in her lap and starting at the corner of the room. "I sometimes hate how wizard portraits move. Someone could think all kinds of things."

Ginny looks at her painting of women tending to the fields of some far-flung climes and she swallows, looking back to Pansy.

"It's a Muggle painting. Nothing magical about it."

"I don't believe you." Pansy looks around and jumps in her seat as the slow thud sounds from upstairs again. "I told you it wasn't the window."

"It's obviously just coming loose – the latch is broken." Instead of going back upstairs, Ginny sits next to Pansy and feels a rush of sympathy. "Just have another glass of wine. I promise, these things can all be explained in the end."

"Can they?" Pansy looks uncertain and Ginny nods, firmly.

"We live in a world where magic exists. You have a wand, don't you? I don't think you can let a few shadows scare you like this."

"You're right." Pansy sits up straight and matches Ginny's nod with one of her own. "I'm sure it's all silliness."

The thudding sound ceases and the room warms. Ginny reaches for Pansy and squeezes her hand gently.

"Let's forget it."

"Yes." Pansy breathes in and exhales. "Let's."

* * *

"I wouldn't have thought you'd be the sort." A week after her first visit to Ginny's flat, Pansy opens Ginny's wardrobe as if the room is her own and fingers the black satin dress like she has been invited to hunt through Ginny's things.

"The sort to wear a dress? Look pretty?" Ginny resists the urge to swat Pansy around the head because she's bloody infuriating at times.

"You're attractive." Pansy looks like it pains her to say it and she eyes Ginny. "You're not really one for pretty dresses, though."

"Neither are you anymore." Ginny arches an eyebrow and nods at Pansy's outfit – another blouse with slim-fitting trousers. "I remember a time when you liked pink and frills."

"Don't." Pansy pulls a face and shudders. "Fashions change, as do people. I grew up a bit."

"You've changed a lot." As Ginny says it, she knows it's true. Although Pansy can drive her up the wall, it's clear the hard edges she used to have at school have softened somewhat and although Pansy speaks without thinking at times, she's far from the bully she used to be.

"Things happened." Pansy looks like she doesn't want to elaborate.

"Have I blabbed to anyone about the other stuff you told me?" Ginny raises her eyebrow and Pansy shakes her head.

"I suppose you have been discrete."

"Then maybe you should trust me."

"You could say I've trusted the wrong people in the past – at school, in particular. I told a group of friends' things about me and they didn't take it how I imagined." Pansy averts her eyes and looks at her nails, holding her hand in front of her and studying them.

"I don't know what you think I'm going to do." Ginny glares at Pansy, knowing an avoidance technique when she sees one.

"People haven't exactly been there for me over the last few years. I'm used to it." Pansy shrugs.

"Well you've been spending most of your time with me for the past few weeks, telling me all sorts of things, and I haven't gone anywhere." Ginny pushes again, wondering what on earth happened to Pansy which makes her so reluctant to talk.

"No. You haven't." Pansy acknowledges Ginny's words and finally meets her eyes. "As I said, I trusted people I shouldn't have trusted. They told me to meet them somewhere in the school that I hadn't been to before – it was always full of secrets, you probably remember?"

"Very well." Ginny thinks of the secret passages and the Room of Requirement and nods.

"They told me there was a magic cupboard in this room. I didn't want to get in it, but they promised me it was just a game. In the end, I had to because I didn't want to lose face. They locked the door behind me and left. I was there for hours before Madam Pomfrey found me." Pansy looks at her knuckles and winces, clenching her hands into fists.

"You tried to beat your way out?" Ginny swallows and touches Pansy's hand, sitting beside her.

"I suppose I did. I don't know what was in there because I never saw its face, but it scared me half to death. I wasn't alone. I know that much." Pansy shudders at the memory and shakes her head. "Pretty pink dresses seemed less important after that. I wanted to be stronger."

"What you wear has nothing to do with strength." Ginny brushes her hand on Pansy's arm. "But I do like the new look. I think you and I would clash if you dressed as you used to."

"Of course. Red." With a smile, Pansy reaches up and twines a little of Ginny's hair in her fingers. "If clothes don't matter to you, why do you wear things to make you feel more…masculine?"

"Blazers and trousers and things?" Ginny shrugs. "I'm more comfortable in them, I suppose. Maybe it's growing up with six brothers that did it."

"I was just curious." Pansy averts her gaze. "I like the idea of someone looking like that then being a woman underneath it all."

"For yourself?" Ginny contemplates Pansy again. Her sleek, tailored outfit is masculine to a point, but her whole appearance retains a sharp focus on femininity with deep red lips and long thick lashes. Pansy is – Ginny is reluctant to admit – bloody gorgeous.

"No, not for myself. I find it appealing on others. I like the way you look."

"You don't look half bad yourself." Ginny feels it's only right to return the compliment and enjoys the way Pansy flushes. "Why do you still say mean things?"

"And you don't, I suppose?" Pansy sneers and her hackles raise. Her eyebrows knit into a frown and she folds her arms. "Has it ever occurred to you that I need to protect myself sometimes? People aren't very kind to Slytherins now – particularly ones who told everyone to hand Potter over."

"It was a shitty thing to do," Ginny agrees. "But people change – I'm sure there's plenty who regret what they did during the war."

"Not you." Pansy's lips twist and she contemplates Ginny. "You chose the right side."

"I had the benefit of growing up around Harry. It made it easier to know his side was the right one." Ginny shrugs and nudges Pansy. "Let's not talk about the war. How have you been?"

"Better." Pansy smiles. "There haven't been half as many strange things going on. Sometimes I wake up and I'm sure there's somebody there – but I keep telling myself it's all stuff and nonsense, just like you suggested."

"I'm glad I could help." Ginny remembers the way she had felt on the night of Pansy's last visit and wonders if she should have been quite so dismissive. "Do you fancy going out for a while?"

"With you?" Pansy looks so surprised, Ginny can't help but laugh.

"That was the general idea."

* * *

The first time Ginny kisses Pansy, it feels right in a way other kisses simply haven't.

Ginny let Pansy choose her outfit in the end, knowing how things might end up between them and feeling the strangest desire to look her best. When Pansy's hand settles on her leg with a giggle, Ginny doesn't even try to resist.

They go to Pansy's place this time, and Pansy flicks her wand explaining through heated kisses there's no Muggle technology in her home. She mentions Ginny might need her wand in a way which sounds thoroughly filthy and Ginny can't help but push Pansy against the wall and kiss her more deeply, sliding her hands over every inch of Pansy's body. When Pansy grips Ginny's crotch and lets out a moan of desire, she leaves Ginny in no doubt about her interest and Ginny finds herself all too happy to oblige. She murmurs to Pansy about binding her and bringing her to a rough completion. She talks about toys attached to harnesses and suggests one evening Pansy should dress herself in fitted satin corsets and suspenders and allow Ginny to do all kinds of things to her.

"We'll do this again, then?"

"Oh, I think so." Ginny chuckles and kisses Pansy more firmly.

"You'll wear your tuxedo?"

"If you like." Ginny grins and tugs Pansy upstairs. "I'll want you to put on some sexy underwear for me. I like that."

"Then you'll like this." Pansy smiles and opens the door to her room.

They settle onto a bed of satin and silk, and kiss one another in a tangle of limbs, rolling around in the large bed. Their clothes slip back with whispers of magic to reveal skin in the most tantalising way. Their naked bodies couple together and move in the darkness; fingers slide, tongues flick and explore hot skin and intimate places, as their kisses become more urgent.

They gasp and sigh and arch towards one another, reaching completion. They move together and kiss again as the darkness covers them both and their bodies slip and slide over the satin.

In the morning, they wake with satiated smiles and soft kisses and it's a moment before either of them notice the chill air from the open window.

"It was closed." Pansy frowns and shuts the window tightly, locking the latch down and looking around the room with a shiver. "I'm positive it was closed. Do you remember?"

"I'm not sure. It might have been open, now I come to think of it."

"Really?" Pansy looks hopeful and Ginny beckons her back to bed.

"Really," Ginny lies.

* * *

"Pansy?"

Ginny blinks and looks around the room. She slides her hand along the smooth sheets but the other side of the bed feels cold and flat. She turns her head and sees a shadow move across the walls of the room. Muttering to herself about being far too old to be scared of the dark, Ginny reaches for her wand to cast a Lumos.

"Pretty little witching girl,
Had a head full of blonde curls."

"Where are you?" Ginny swallows as she hears the sing-song melody of a lullaby she remembers her mother singing during childhood. She keeps her wand clutched tightly in her hand and moves to where a sliver of light shows beneath the heavy wooden doorframe. "Pansy?"

"She's a perfect little witching girl,
The prettiest witch in all the world."

"What on earth are you doing?" Ginny opens the door and the creak makes Pansy look up. Her eyes are vacant and her expression fixes in a strange smile.

"Singing." Pansy clasps her hands in her lap and hums the melody again before tilting her head and looking at Ginny. "Don't worry. You should sleep."

"You must be freezing." Ginny shivers and closes the window which is wide open, moving to Pansy and placing a tentative hand on hers. "Come back to bed."

"In a minute." Pansy closes her eyes and sighs, and begins to hum again.

When Ginny closes the door behind her, she hears Pansy talking as if she is holding a conversation with someone else.

It takes a long time for Ginny to finally settle, and by the time she does sleep, Pansy still hasn't returned.

* * *

"Do you often sleepwalk?" Ginny looks up from her toast and Pansy looks confused.

"I don't believe I ever sleepwalk."

"You know you were out of bed last night, in the freezing cold singing lullabies?" Ginny places her toast down and her body chills. "You don't remember?"

"No – not a thing." Pansy looks worried and shakes her head. "I feel tired. Like I could sleep for a week."

"It's the weekend – go back to bed and get some rest," Ginny insists.

Pansy does as Ginny suggests. Instead of joining her, Ginny watches Pansy disappear from the room and settles back in her chair to think.

* * *

"I want you to tell me more about the things which have been happening to you." Ginny dishes up an evening meal and pushes the plate to Pansy, who prods at her food and grimaces.

"Nothing much has happened lately – do we have to talk about it?"

"I'd like to." Ginny nods and takes a bite of her own food, not really able to taste it. "I'm worried there's something we've missed."

"Like I said, I hear things sometimes. I sometimes think I see things out of the corner of my eye, or in the mirror when I'm checking my hair or brushing my teeth. It's like a glimpse of something and then it's gone. I don't see his face."

"Whose face?" Ginny furrows her brow and Pansy flushes.

"I gave him a name. I called him Leo, like the stars. I don't know why."

"But it's just shadows – movements out of the corner of your eye. There's nobody there."

"No." Pansy averts her gaze and Ginny turns to see what Pansy's looking at, but there's nothing but a shadow on the wall cast by the furnishings in the room.

"Was there anything else, apart from the flowers and the noises?"

"Just silly things, really." Pansy waves her hand dismissively, the former nerves and agitation seemingly gone. "One night I woke up with scratches on my arm and Merlin only knows how they got there. Perhaps I do sleepwalk, because it's always when I wake up that strange things seem to have happened. Perhaps that was it all along."

"Something doesn't feel right." Ginny looks around and frowns. The air fills with scent of their food, but there's something else which lingers – something unfamiliar which Ginny recognises from the first time Pansy came to her flat, like the scent of something burning.

"Now you're making me nervous – isn't it supposed to be the other way round?"

When Pansy laughs and the mood shifts, Ginny laughs too.

Later in the night when the bed is cold and she can hear Pansy chatting again, Ginny pulls the duvet over her head and tries to settle as the peculiar scent fills the room once more.

* * *

Two nights later, Ginny insists they spend more time at her home. Pansy's home has begun to stifle her and the late night sleepwalking has left her unsettled. Pansy agrees and packs a small bag full of clothes.

"We can have some time apart if you'd prefer?"

"Not particularly." Ginny shakes her head and squeezes Pansy's hand. "We need to do something about the sleep walking, though. It can't be good for you to be up half the night."

"Perhaps you should tie me to the bed." Pansy's smile is teasing and Ginny can't help but laugh, relaxing a little.

"I don't expect you to sleep when I do that." Ginny grins and takes Pansy's hand. They leave the house and wander through the streets, wrapped up warm. They talk about the future and Ginny finds herself surprised – not for the first time – at the comfort she gets from Pansy's company. The snide commentary has dipped and ebbed into nothing, and Pansy and she have more in common than Ginny would ever have thought a few months prior.

"I feel like I haven't been here in ages." Pansy smiles and strokes her hands along the wall when Ginny opens the door. "I've missed it."

"Your house creeps me out sometimes." Ginny shrugs and gives Pansy a sheepish grin. "No offence."

"It creeps me out sometimes, too." Pansy laughs and pulls Ginny close. "Funny to think this was how it all began between us – silly nightmares and rotting flowers. Not terribly romantic."

"We still haven't got to the bottom of it." Ginny frowns and tugs Pansy onto the sofa. "It can't just have come from nowhere, all of this."

"No. It was the strangest thing…" Pansy trails off and glares at Ginny. "You'll say I'm daft."

"No, I promise." Ginny puts her hand to her heart which beats more rapidly in her chest.

"You remember I told you about that experience at school?" Pansy says experience like it leaves a bitter taste and Ginny nods.

"That stuff with the cupboard?"

"Yes." Pansy's cheeks heat and she looks around. Her voice dips, as if someone might be listening. "Since then, I felt like someone was watching me. I thought it was because people probably were - I wasn't very popular by then, and I had already been attacked by a group I considered to be my friends once before. But now I look back on it, there were other things, too. The scratches started appearing sometimes, and I would wake in the oddest of places. There was always a smell of burning, it's why I have so many flowers around. I don't like that smell. It scares me."

Ginny shivers and she swallows thickly. "Anything else?"

"People close to me began to distance themselves – even my mother said something wasn't quite right." Pansy clasps her hands in her lap and twists them together.

"You never speak about your parents." The room is colder than it should be and Ginny presses close to Pansy for warmth. Her whole body is hot, almost overheated, and Ginny detects the light sheen of perspiration on Pansy's forehead, wondering how she can be so warm when the room is ice cold.

"No." Pansy shakes her head. "They're both in the Janus Thickey ward now – right next to the Longbottoms. They were attacked shortly after the war, but I kept it out of the press."

"I see."

Ginny shifts uncomfortably in her place and the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

"Let's not think about it. Glass of wine?" Pansy smiles and brightens, a breath of fresh air which cuts through the oppressive atmosphere in the room.

"Please."

Pansy collects the glasses which clink together. When she opens the wine, Ginny notices that Pansy has started to hum.

* * *

"Who are you talking to?" Ginny turns in her bed as she hears Pansy chatting to someone, her voice melodic and strange to Ginny's ears.

"Nobody. Why won't you go back to sleep?" Pansy's back stiffens and she stands in the corner of the room, talking only to the shadows.

"I can't sleep with you doing that. Come back to bed – or at least turn on the light."

Ginny reaches for the light and flicks it on. The bulb blows with a sharp pop and the glass shatters on her hand. She cries out and moves back from the lamp, muttering a curse under her breath. She reaches for the other light, but Pansy stills her.

"I asked you to go back to sleep. Why won't you?" Pansy's hand is hot and clammy as it was earlier in the evening, and Ginny turns to face her.

"You're scaring me. Just stop and get into bed." Ginny glares at Pansy and her lips pull into a smile.

"I'm scared too, you know." She dips her voice into a whisper and her hot breath tickles Ginny's ear. "Leo doesn't like you much."

"Fuck this." Ginny makes to stand but before she can get to her feet, ropes twine around her body and pin her down onto the bed. She twists her head, bile rising in her throat. "I mean it, Pansy. This isn't funny."

"I know." Pansy nods and her eyes fill with tears. "You were so sweet. I told him not to hurt you, but he won't listen.

"Who? For fuck's sake, you can stop this!" Ginny panics now, tugging at her hands which are firmly bound.

When Pansy laughs, she can hear two sounds. One deep, rough and distinct and the other, soft and melodious.

The laughter stops and the ropes tighten around Ginny's body.

She struggles in place, until the cold metal of a knife slides against her skin and Pansy crawls over her, pushing the knife against her throat.

Ginny looks up and meets Pansy's eyes, garbled pleas falling from her lips.

When she sees the face looking back at her, Ginny finally starts to scream.

* * *

One week later

"Pansy's at my place, sleeping." Harry rakes a hand through his hair and shakes Arthur's hand, holding onto it for a moment. "I'll get to the bottom of this. Shacklebolt's put his best on the case. We'll leave no stone unturned."

"And they're sure Pansy wasn't involved?" Arthur has aged ten years in the last few days and Harry feels his heart breaking for him.

"I think so. She's clearly distraught and she doesn't remember a thing. She was still sleeping when Ron went round and found Ginny as she was and Pansy couldn't remember anything. Ginny was killed by hand, not magic, and quite honestly Parkinson wouldn't have had the strength." Harry winces when he sees how Arthur reacts to that statement, and squeezes his hand again. "Don't you worry – I'll keep an eye on her, make sure there's nothing we're missing."

"My little girl." Arthur rubs at his forehead and his voice cracks. "Molly – I'm not sure she'll be able to bury another child."

"She's strong – the strongest woman I know." Harry's throat aches and he wants to break down but he knows he must be strong for the Weasley family. The house is as sombre and still as he has ever known it and the sound of tears echo around the small spaces which he remembers being filled with happiness and light.

"We'll see you tomorrow?" Arthur sounds hopeful and Harry nods.

"Of course. I'll come round after supper." He leaves the house and heaves a ragged breath. Pulling his cloak around himself, he Apparates home. He can hear the sound of footfall upstairs and he takes the stairs two at a time.

"Harry?"

"I'm here." Harry pushes open the door to the spare room and frowns when he sees Pansy sitting up in bed. "I thought you were up and about?"

"No." Pansy looks lost and confused and her gaze flicks around the room. "I'm freezing."

"Just rest – it's been a rough couple of days." Harry moves to the window and shuts it tightly, looking back at Pansy. "Keep this closed – it's the middle of winter, no wonder you're cold."

"But I didn't…." Pansy trails off and then she nods, burrowing under the duvet. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

When he goes to bed and finally lets his own tears fall, Harry thinks about Ginny and everything she meant to him. He cries until his throat is raw and he wants to scream and beat his fists against the wall. Instead, he turns in the sheets and forces himself to get some rest for the next day.

As he tries to settle, Harry thinks he hears footsteps again and he wonders what Pansy is doing up.

He listens for a moment longer before the dull thuds stop.

He shuffles deeper in the bed and finally allows sleep to claim him.

~Fin~

Week One Round Up 2013

scarletladyy — Sun, 24 Nov 2013 23:37:29 GMT

Monday 18th November: Revenge and Ruffles for _afterism [FIC & ART]
[Narcissa/Hermione, NC-17] They would never find her, and even if they did, it would be thrilling to see their shock at what she had become.

Tuesday 19th November: Trapped on the Outside for pretty_panther
[Pansy/Lavender, R] After being attacked by Greyback, Lavender is too afraid to leave her apartment. Pansy tries to understand, but sometimes she feels just as trapped.

Wednesday 20th November: Hope is a Four Letter Word for writcraft
[Amelia Bones/Charity Burbage, PG-13] She wouldn't lose Amelia to the Bones family curse.

Thursday 21st November: Loved Out of Sight for stephaniejo84
[Ginny/Luna, PG-13] Ginny and the others are brought to the hospital wing after the Department of Mysteries battle.

Friday 22nd November: A Matter of When for arjd
[Pansy/Astoria, PG-13] Daphne has recently been released from hospital for depression, and is finding it difficult to cope.

Saturday 23rd November: Chasing Ghosts for flyingharmony
[Andromeda/Daphne, PG] Two witches busy running away from the ghosts of their past; two witches busy looking for the ghosts of their past. They meet.

Please leave feedback for our lovely authors and artists :)

Chasing Ghosts - a gift for flyingharmony!

scarletladyy — Sat, 23 Nov 2013 23:20:52 GMT

Title: Chasing Ghosts
Author: nearlyconscious
Recipient: flyingharmony
Pairing(s): Andromeda/Daphne + side pairs in the background
Word Count: ~1400
Rating: PG
Warnings: None other than reference to canon deaths and bittersweet memories, but since this is darkwitches fest, I don't think it matters that much. Oh, incest if you squint or if you want to interpret it that way (oops, sometimes I forget Blackcest is incest).
Summary: Two witches busy running away from the ghosts of their past; two witches busy looking for the ghosts of their past. They meet.
Author's Notes: Dear flyingharmony, I hope you enjoy this. While I like to write about the Black sisters, I randomly got inspiration to write this pairing instead -- however I didn't completely skip Blackcest!

you've changed the course of history
and didn't even try
where are you now
standing behind me
taking my hand
come and remind me
who you are

Emilie Autumn - Ghost (Poem)

***

They had met at a ball organised to honour the victims of the war.

Daphne was almost surprised to receive an invitation; there were wild tales about how all of the Slytherins had plotted to give up The-Boy-Who-Lived to The Dark Lord on the night of the attack on Hogwarts. Most of them were just scared to death and desperate for a way out -- especially Pansy, and while Daphne couldn’t applaud her call to hand Harry over, she understood the impulse. Of course it wouldn’t have been the end of it, but Pansy had no reason to believe Potter would vanquish the Dark Lord, either. She had lost all hope. Many had, after months locked up in the castle they had once loved. Months undergoing torture, or perhaps worse, having to inflict it. Daphne hadn’t hesitated much, though; she’d gone to fight. She had never been one for wild bravery and impulsive decisions, but that wasn’t it; she had thought about this beforehand. She knew sooner or later, they would all have to make such a choice. And after all she had seen, she didn’t believe it couldn’t get even worse, and she would rather die trying to make it better. So she took out her wand, and she broke the line of Slytherins going down to the dungeons.

Daphne was a hard-worker, and quite a brilliant student, but she would always repeat later that sheer luck had gotten her out of the battle without much of a scratch; a few broken ribs and the sort, but nothing a bottle of Skele-Gro couldn’t fix.

***

Daphne had chosen a black dress to attend the ball. Everyone would expect her to be appropriate -- of course, Gryffindor heroes could show up dressed in yellow stripes if they wanted, but she was pretty sure there wouldn’t be many Slytherins there and that she would be shunned to show up wearing green, even if it were to flatter her hazel eyes.

The cut of the dress she had chosen was very simple, reminiscent of the one she wore for the Yule Ball. She put on red jewelry, to match the dress she wore that day. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she sighed. The Yule Ball seemed so far away. It was a peaceful time. She was in love back then, and nothing stood in the way. Pansy and her had grown apart, slowly but surely. In their seventh year, they often disagreed over how to behave towards the teachers and other students. Pansy wanted to save her own skin; Daphne too, but she wouldn’t do so at the expense of others. She had a little sister, the year below them, and she couldn’t stand the thought of her getting hurt. It didn’t seem very fair to Daphne to only try and protect her sister. Pansy would bitterly say that the world wasn’t fair, that they should get used to it. Once she even said to Daphne that she must have been mis-Sorted, that she should have ended up in Gryffindor. Now that the war was over and done with, Pansy and Daphne were estranged. Daphne didn’t want it that way, not really, but Pansy was too proud. Guilt didn’t suit her well.

***

Andromeda knew she was expected to wear black to the Ministry ball; she was mourning her husband and her daughter, after all. But black had never been her colour, and it would only remind her why her closed ones had been targeted: because she had been a Black. She wore a deep burgundy dress, and let her hair free on her shoulders but for a few braids keeping it from falling in her face. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she smiled tightly -- a sad smile. Maybe she would wear a little something black. Her mother always insisted she would…

***

Andromeda noticed the young woman immediately. The elegant and rich cut of her dress, her poise and posture, the way she effortlessly made small talk despite the seriousness of the event; everything said she had been raised to observe Pureblood customs. She didn’t seem eager to hide it, but she didn’t flaunt it either. She was impressed to see that the polite smile didn’t falter, even when a person or two obviously tried to unsettle her. Through a few guided conversations, Andromeda learnt this young person was none other than Daphne Greengrass -- Pureblood, as she had thought. While she sipped on elderflower wine, Andromeda kept observing young Daphne. She was troubled to realise that she was reminded of someone.

***

Daphne was entertained -- or rather, bored to death -- by many guests that night. A lot of people came up to her, whether to congratulate her for her bravery (some of their comments left a sour taste in her mouth, like "especially coming from a Slytherin!") or to submit her to suspicious looks and snide remarks. While she scanned the crowd, taking an appreciative sip of the single malt Ogden’s Finest a waiter had just offered, she noticed a dark-haired woman stealing glances at her. She blinked as she was reminded of Bellatrix Lestrange, but shook away the thought; Bellatrix Lestrange was dead, she saw it with her own eyes. Oh, of course. The sister.

***

While Andromeda and Bellatrix had only ever been able to have a love-hate relationship, like many sisters, Andromeda and Narcissa got along almost perfectly. They were very different, but they loved each other dearly. Andromeda’s decision to run away had been hard mainly because of her younger sister. She knew they wouldn’t have any contact after she left, and it hurt, but it was Narcissa’s choice to follow these wretched blood purity ideals… Andromeda couldn’t support it any longer.

Andromeda never regretted her decision. She lived a happy life with Ted -- he was caring, kind, spontaneous, cheerful. The polar opposite of all the Pureblood men that had been considered to be her husband. Andromeda did miss Narcissa a lot at first, though. Sometimes she would dream about her, and wake up crying. Ted would hug her and stroke her hair until she fell back asleep, but it didn’t make it go away, not really. There was still a Narcissa-shaped void in Andromeda’s heart, and nothing ever filled it up; she only learnt to ignore it.

Andromeda felt exposed in Wizarding public places, so she rarely ever got out of the family cottage. She didn’t know what she was most afraid of: Bellatrix wanting her dead, or Narcissa wanting her back. Running into her sisters was not an option, so accompanying Nymphadora to Diagon Alley was not, either. Andromeda would live dangerously up to a certain point.

A few times already over the years, Andromeda had thought she’d seen her sister. It was always a stranger -- an elegant, lean, blonde stranger. A half-second later, she realised Narcissa was taller, or the stranger turned around and Andromeda could breathe again.

Never the impression had been so striking as that night. It wasn’t so much a question of physical traits; Daphne was lean and tall, yes, but not as angular as Narcissa, and she certainly didn’t seem as haughty. But it was a graceful air about her, the way her hair glowed under the chandeliers’ light, and that simple, tasteful black dress…

Andromeda tried to keep composure as her eyes searched the crowd frantically. Daphne wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Where had she gone?

‘I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Tonks.’

Andromeda tried to soothe her nerves by taking a deep breath as she turned around to face Daphne. The young woman looked at her with what seemed to be compassion but not pity, admiration but not glorification. The same look which inhabited Narcissa’s grey eyes years ago.

‘Thank you, Miss...’

‘Daphne. Daphne Greengrass.’

There was a gleam in Daphne’s eyes as she said her name, a gleam that was never in Narcissa’s eyes. It elicited something in Andromeda -- something odd, that felt familiar and unheard of all at the same time. The two women conversed for the rest of the ball, ignoring the rest of the party. Small talk didn’t have its place in the discussion, and although it took some time for them to call themselves by their first names, and although they didn’t kiss for two months more, there was always something urgent and passionate about their relationship.