FIC and ART: The Flower and Willow World (Hermione Granger/Voldemort)

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Title: The Flower and Willow World
Artist: captainraychill
Prompt Number: 139 submitted by Anonymous
Kink Showcased: Forced Geisha
Rating: ART rated G; FIC rated R
Pairing(s): Hermione Granger/Voldemort, Narcissa Malfoy as Narrator
Summary: “Every detail of her appearance and bearing had been exquisitely crafted. She was beautiful, delicate and aloof – an exotic creature from another world, a world of silk fans and cherry blossoms.”
Warnings/Content Notes: ART: None; FIC: Mention of rape and torture, non-con and dub-con, elements of slight gore and horror
Word Count: 2700
Medium: Collage - acrylic paint, paper, rubber stamping, finishing in Photoshop Elements. I used a Martha Stewart punch to create the flowers in her hair. That’s not really relevant. I just think it’s funny that Martha Stewart is now a part of HP Kinkfest.
Artist's Notes: I love this prompt and took it quite literally. Anonymous, reveal yourself! From Author Lesley Downer, by way of Wikipedia, “It is still said that geisha inhabit a separate reality which they call the karyukai or "the flower and willow world." Before they disappeared, the courtesans were the colorful ‘flowers’ and the geisha the ‘willows’ because of their subtlety, strength, and grace.” Thank you to the wonderful unseen1969  for the super-fast beta work! Thank you, mods, for this wonderful fest!

Could you please add a “geisha” tag?




The Flower and Willow World

The first time the Mudblood was summoned to the Serpent Court, she was naked and in chains. Her fair skin was mottled with bruises, and her wild hair concealed her face. Fresh blood wept scarlet down her thighs. Rodolphus paraded her down the length of the Great Hall and shoved her onto her knees before the throne. The enchanted ceiling revealed storm clouds.

“Submit to me,” the Dark Lord ordered.

She raised her head, and I noticed, with mild interest, the delicacy of her profile. She had a long, slender neck and an aquiline nose. My gaze wandered down to her breasts. They were small and perfectly-shaped. My brother-in-law’s wand point had dotted them with burns. I wondered what Bella thought of his obsession with this one. Rodolphus visited the Pit every night after Feast, and rumor intimated that he took his perverse pleasures with Granger alone. Lucius only entered the Pit once a week, just enough for his disgust and reluctance to remain unobserved. He won’t allow me to touch him for three days afterward. I don’t know, nor do I want to know, how often Draco frequents that place.

“Do as I command,” the Dark Lord said.

The Mudblood spat at his feet, and a collective gasp swept through the court. We held our breaths, waiting for him to sever her head. One by one, beginning with Potter, the defiant had been decapitated with violent spews of blood. Their heads hung like a string of gruesome lanterns in the Entrance Hall. But, of course, there were punishments less swift than death reserved for women.

“Back to the Pit then,” he said, his eyes gleaming red. “For a week.”

The second and third times the Mudblood was summoned to the Serpent Court, she spat at the Dark Lord’s feet again.

The fourth time, however, after a total of fifty-one days in captivity, her rebellion crumbled. She shuddered and sobbed. She begged him not to send her back. She swore she would obey. Horror stripped away her pride, and she bowed low before him, exposing her pink slit for all the room to see. There were vicious bite marks on her buttocks and thighs. Through my lashes, I glanced at Rodolphus and saw that he was furious at the prospect of losing his toy.

“Good girl,” the Dark Lord whispered. Her frantic submission pleased him. I heard triumph in his words and a small hint of tenderness. “You will be rewarded with a chamber and time to heal before your service begins.”

*

It became clear that Bella wouldn’t have cared if her husband had raped and tortured the Mudblood for the rest of his days. But that the girl had caught her lord’s eyes, that he had called her a good girl… Bella’s dark eyes flashed with crazed jealousy.

“I’ll kill her,” she raved within my Silenced dressing room. Her black figure cast a line of infinite reflections in its large mirror. “I’ll find some secret way to kill her.”

“He would know,” I said. “Be patient. No slave ever holds his interest for long.”

That was when I learned that the Dark Lord wanted the Mudblood for more than just sex. When he’d crept through Potter’s mind, seeking a way to lure the boy to the prophecy, the Dark Lord had seen Granger. He'd heard her sing.

“He says she has a beautiful voice,” Bella murmured wretchedly. My sister couldn’t sing. I took her hands in mine as tears fell over her sharp cheekbones.

The next day, an uprising in Rouen took the Dark Lord and his army across the sea. All of the Death Eaters - including Lucius, Draco and, of course, Bella - were gone for a month. I returned to the Manor during the campaign, fearful for my family but relieved to be home, away from the malicious intrigues of court. When I received Lucius’ owl, I returned to Hogwarts.

*

The fifth time the Mudblood was summoned to the Serpent Court was the day after the Dark Lord’s debauched victory feast. No one but Granger’s chamber elves had seen her since she’d groveled so shamelessly before the throne.

When she appeared in the frame of the large doors, the entire court fell silent. We watched and waited, spellbound, under the luminous half-moon that shone down from the enchanted ceiling. The Dark Lord leaned forward in his throne.

Granger had recreated herself with such extreme dedication that she was now unrecognizable.

She was Geisha.

She wore bright, silk robes in the Japanese style. Her face was powdered white, and her lips were painted an intensely rich red. Such vivid colors were nonexistent in the Serpent Court, where sycophants wore the same somber tones as their lord. Granger’s eyes were downcast. Her hands folded together at a precise, demure angle. Her wild hair had been sculpted into gleaming brown coils and was adorned with colorful paper flowers. Not a single wayward curl remained. Every detail of her appearance and bearing had been exquisitely crafted. She was beautiful, delicate and aloof – an exotic creature from another world, a world of silk fans and cherry blossoms. She’d made herself other and fascinating. It was an ingenious ploy. The Dark Lord would not tire of this slave overnight.

Granger’s kimono limited her to small steps as she slowly walked the length of the Great Hall. She had rejected the geisha’s wooden geta for soft slippers, and her footsteps were silent. I wondered if she had possessed this grace before or if she had found a way to purchase it with potions or spells. She stopped before the dais and sank onto her knees. Only a woman who had worn such structured robes could appreciate the skill with which she managed it. The fabric barely whispered. It fanned out behind her, a luxury of embroidered silk. She placed her palms flat upon the stone floor and bowed low before her master. The nape of her neck had been left natural, free of powder and paint. Somehow, this strip of peach-colored flesh seemed more sensual and daring than the display of her cunt a month ago.

“Intriguing,” the Dark Lord said. “Very good. You may rise, little flower.”

Granger rose with that same incredible grace and reassumed her decorous pose, her hands folded and her eyes cast down. She had the discipline of a soldier.

“Look at me,” the Dark Lord commanded. “And sing.”

She lifted her gaze and stared at him placidly. She didn’t turn toward the room but sang for him alone. Her voice was stunning. It filled the Great Hall like the chime of a bell, pure and powerful and effortless. A shiver of sensation ran down my arms at the sound. I didn’t recognize the song, but soon, I realized - we all realized - that it was a song about the Dark Lord’s victory in Rouen. I could see that this tribute pleased him more than all the corrupt pleasures that had been lavished upon him last night at the formal celebration.

I felt Bella trembling beside me. She had much to lose. I hooked my little finger around hers. A surreptitious comfort, hidden behind my skirt.

When Granger finished her song, she lowered her eyes and folded her hands together again. The Dark Lord rose from his throne and walked down the steps of the dais toward her. She stood still, with marble poise, as he studied her. He touched her red lips, her glossy hair, the pale skin of her cheek. He slipped his long fingers under the silk covering one of her clavicles. The entire court heard the soft, satisfied sound he made in his throat. A moment later, he lifted his arms and cast some sort of magic over the girl. It was wordless and wandless, but I felt its power, like gentle scratches over every inch of my skin. A dome of shimmering silver surrounded Granger before fading away.

The Dark Lord took her hand and turned them to face the room.

“May I present Lady Flower?” he said. “She belongs to me alone. Anyone who touches her with harmful or passionate intent will face severe consequences.” He smiled as his red eyes flickered toward Bella and Rodolphus. The silver light had been a protection spell.

As the Dark Lord led Lady Flower down the length of the Great Hall, I noticed that he adjusted his steps to hers. I noticed that Bella leaned forward, trying to catch his attention with the intensity of her gaze. He ignored her. I noticed that Draco seemed mystified by Granger’s transformation. I wondered if he was remembering her as she’d been in school – the buck-toothed, bushy-haired, know-it-all Mudblood.

I also noticed that, as Lady Flower passed Rodolphus, she looked at him. It was over almost before it began - a sweep of lovely lashes, the sidelong glance of her solemn regard. I knew then that he would be dead before month’s end, that she would have her revenge.

Or justice, as the case may be.

*

No one knew what transpired between the Dark Lord and his strange, new concubine behind the doors of his private suite, but no one had ever seen him more enthralled with a person before.

Every day, she wore a new silk kimono in the brilliant colors eschewed by the court. Now, no one dared to emulate her. What if the Dark Lord’s spell interpreted imitation as intent to usurp, or harm, her? She was a butterfly, alone in the gloom. She sang songs and played the lute. She performed dances with hand fans and long, silk scarves. She served the Dark Lord’s wine. I watched the angle of her white wrist as she poured. Even such a simple act was imbued with grace and artistry.

Her mind was logical and powerful, her conversation at turns witty and profound. She and the Dark Lord spoke for hours on esoteric topics. No one else in court could contribute to or even follow these discussions. Then she’d tell him a bawdy joke, all the more shocking because of her refinement and sweet charm, and he’d smile and laugh his sinister laugh. We all knew that if she’d been born of pure blood, she would be our queen.

The Dark Lord came to Bella less often, and when he did, his needs were even more violent and depraved than usual. Lady Flower continued to cast her sad, secret glances at Rodolphus, and his behavior grew more erratic. It was rumored that he now killed the women he defiled in the Pit. No one stopped him. He was of high rank, and there was always more supply.

*

As I had predicted, Rodolphus was dead by month’s end. By chance, or perhaps not, he met Lady Flower in the Entrance Hall. I was the only witness, following him as he followed her.

“Stop,” he commanded, and she obeyed. She stood directly under the banner made from the heads of her rebellious friends. They were rotting, their stench penetrating the freshening spells that had been cast in the air around them.

“You’re driving me mad,” Rodolphus said. Lady Flower remained silent, staring at him across the space of five steps. He walked closer. “Say something, damn you.”

“There’s nothing to say,” she replied softly. “We cannot be. No matter…”

“No matter what?” he pressed. “No matter what you want?”

She looked up at him, an artifice of tears shining in her dark eyes, her red lips parted. His eyes grew dark with lust. He rushed forward and touched her, his hand gripping the nape of her neck. He’d forgotten about the protection spell.

It worked quickly. No slow poison of the blood, no prolonged and agonizing Cruciatus. Rodolphus made a choking sound and dropped to the ground, dead, the whites of his eyes red with blood. Lady Flower looked down at him, her face devoid of expression. She knew I was watching, so I stepped out of the shadows.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” she said.

I might never have the chance to be alone with her again. I dropped to my knees and bowed my head until it touched the cold, stone floor.

“Lady Flower, I beg you not to take my husband or my son. Please.” I waited, in abject submission. My heart was beating fast, and I couldn’t catch my breath. If Lucius and Draco died, I would have nothing. Nothing in the world but my mad sister.

“Lucius and Draco Malfoy never touched me,” she said.

I gasped with relief. I felt the strangest urge to reach out, grab the silk hem of her robe and kiss it in gratitude.

“And my sister?” I whispered instead. I knew that all Death Eaters go to the Pit, and Bella was the Dark Lord’s most fervent Death Eater. Had she shared her husband's plaything? Had she hurt the Mudblood? Or would the Mudblood seek vengeance for past wrongs, for her merciless torture on the Manor’s parlor floor?

“Bellatrix Lestrange did not harm me in the Pit,” Lady Flower said. “I will tailor my future actions to match hers.”

I felt a less palpable relief then. Blood and shared memory bound me to my sister. We are Blacks. But we haven’t been close since she’d discovered her passion and purpose for living – the Dark Lord.

“Thank you, my lady,” I said.

I heard nothing and wondered if she had walked away, on her silent slippers. I rose up and saw her, turned away from me. The dramatic sweep of her silk train brightened the dim hall. She gazed up at the severed heads of her dead friends. The valiant. Those who hadn’t yielded as she had. Potter was in the center, his face distorted and soft as a rotten peach. One gentle stroke of his cheek would slough off his skin to reveal the gore beneath. His eyes were dull with death but still as green as spring leaves. The blood traitors were beside him - the Longbottom boy and one of the Weasleys, his eye sockets dark and void.

I wondered what Lady Flower, what Hermione Granger, was thinking now as she stared up at them.

I closed my eyes and whispered an incantation. It was one of a dozen secret spells, lost over the centuries and known only to the Malfoy family. These spells and curses, more precious than glittering gemstones, had been taught to me after Draco’s healthy birth. I felt the magic thrum through me, and I grew cold. Soon, I felt nothing but my face. The rest of me seemed to be lost in some phantom realm. I smelled the stench of rotting flesh. Suddenly, though my own eyes were still closed, I was seeing through the dead, green eyes of Harry Potter.

Granger stared up at me.

*

So this was how she truly feels.

I see her gazing up at Potter’s head, her eyes shining with deep sadness and true tears.

Her cosmetics and her will are powerful masks. She paints herself white and red. She wraps her body in gorgeous silks. She wears flowers in her hair. She sings and dances. She gives pleasure. She entertains the Dark Lord in so many ways. She has become a fantasy. By captivating him, she has saved herself. For now.

But beneath it all, just a soft touch away, lies rot and gore. Her loss and pain. Her guilt and regret.

She must never let the Dark Lord see what is hidden beneath her lacquered surface. If she does, his interest in her will change. She will become a challenge, a game to be played. Something fragile as well as beautiful, something he’ll delight in breaking. Whether he destroys her with one, great shattering or with a thousand, tiny fractures – that will just depend upon the whim of his malice.

Or perhaps she can maintain her mask. She is inordinately strong.

Or, over time, she could simply become what she pretends to be. The Lady Flower.

I whisper the counter-spell that removes my vision from Potter’s dead eyes. After fighting a swell of nausea, I open my own eyes to see Granger walking away from me toward her private chambers. The silk train of her kimono trails behind her, luminous in the dark corridor. A long, brown lock of hair, barely curling, falls over her shoulder, and I know that she has pulled it out of its intricate architecture of pins.


THE END 

Comments

[marguerite-26.livejournal.com]

Could you please add a “geisha” tag?
done!

(also - the art is gorgeous!!)

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much!

[sbrande.livejournal.com]

The art is beautifully done.

Loved the story too, only Hermione can adapt and overcome the odds.

Love Sonia :)

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Sonia! Glad you liked the fic, too. Hermione is smart and can adapt, but still, Voldemort... Eww.

Love, Racheal :)

[brighty18.livejournal.com]

Like Hermione's conversation, this is both witty (or, beautiful) and profound.

Her cosmetics and her will are powerful masks. She paints herself white and red. She wraps her body in gorgeous silks. She wears flowers in her hair. She sings and dances. She gives pleasure. She entertains the Dark Lord in so many ways. She has become a fantasy. By captivating him, she has saved herself. For now.
BRILLIANT!

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

What a sweet comment! I like that excerpt, too. A nice summary that sort of wrote itself. Thank you.

[blissed_bess]

Oh, that was gorgeous! As was the pic - beautifully done!

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much!! :)

[maryfic.livejournal.com]

This was - something completely unexpected. I really...really...shocked myself by enjoying this so much. The little touches like the Japanese name for the wooden shoes made it exquisite.

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I wonder now what you were expecting. :) I had to look geta up but it felt right to use it. I'm glad you liked the story!

[sksdwrld.livejournal.com]

The art and fic are well-matched. Dark, beautiful, and somewhat surreal; almost haunting in a way that will stick with me al day.

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you feel that the two pieces went well together. The art came first and the fic followed, so there could have been a divergence. I'm pleased you found them beautiful and surreal, both wonderful words. :)

[sapphoatsunset.livejournal.com]

Beautiful art~!

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I can't remember how I settled on using Narcissa's POV, but it just felt right. I love writing her, such an elegant figure.

I'm so pleased you get emotion from Hermione's eyes. That was difficult to accomplish. I joked with UnseenLibrarian that, in earlier versions, her eyes had a slight worry that seemed to say, "Did I leave the oven on??" :)

[luciusmistress.livejournal.com]

Wow. Just... wow. That was... sort of hauntingly beautiful and heartbreakingly sad all at the same time. With really good pacing. And a wonderful turn of phrase.

The outsider POV is perfect. It goes so well with Hermione's detached, perfectly sculpted exterior. Besides, I loved Narcissa's voice.

The art is lovely, too. You've really captured the sadness in her eyes.

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Luciusmistress! Thank you for the rec! I'm glad this story trumped Isometrics or whatever it is you are studying. :) I smiled like a fool when you called it "elegant darkfic".

The outsider POV is perfect. It goes so well with Hermione's detached, perfectly sculpted exterior. Besides, I loved Narcissa's voice. I like this observation. I don't know if I'd consciously considered the connection between a detached narrator and the detachment of Hermione's image from her true, inner self until I read this. And I just love Narcissa, too.

Thank you - regarding the art as well.

[of-anoesis.livejournal.com]

Holy crap. This is so sad and yet so beautiful. Exquisite work - I love her hair and those Martha Stewart flowers :)

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Sad and beautiful were exactly what I was going for. The hair was a bit of a breakthrough for me and is probably my favorite part of the painting.

Yeah, that Martha Stewart is a kinky freak now... if she wasn't before. :)

[eevilalice.livejournal.com]

I mean, holy shit. The first thing I honed in on was her eyes--and what I read as well-buried fear (full disclosure: I abstained from reading the fic as it's not my cup of tea, so I don't know if it explains/illuminates the art in some way. I'm treating the art as its own work.). The angle of her face probably has something to do with that, too. Then the paleness of her skin, so chillingly but beautifully white until I noticed the touch of pink. And those red, red lips, again beautiful but severe (plus crimson=blood) and also picked up by the eyeshadow.

The paper you used for her hair ornaments seems so perverse; I always associate Hermione with books and parchment, and in another context it would seem lovely, but not when she's made this way for whom she is.

Her hair looks like I could feel it. I love the way her collarbone looks sort of heart-shaped, and the length of her neck adds to her vulnerability. The kimono almost looks like papier-mache, very delicate or fragile. How did you do the kimono? The color effect is very cool.

But for me, it's definitely all about those eyes. Thank you for the time you spent on this and sharing it with us! A fest fave, for sure. :)

And thanks, Martha Stewart. ;)

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

For you, I change my icon, which I've never done before. :) The kimono was created using the turquoise paint (with a touch of white) and the pale lilac paper in the picture to the left. The paper's "tissue-y" so it became semi-transparent when I adhered it over the paint with a matte medium/sealer - et voila. Like many good things, the technique was a cover-up for a mistake, a happy accident.

I'm so glad you honed in on Hermione's eyes and that you read fear and/or sadness in them. That's what I wanted to express. The fic evolved because I wanted to explore her look and the reasons behind it. Why would she submit and how would she feel about it? So if you got that, the stand-alone is fine. Although my evil twin wants to tell you to read the story. Never mind - I've got her under control. I'll lock her in the craft room with Martha. ;)

I love the hair, too. The blending and contrast are better than I've done in the past. I like that you find the hair ornaments "perverse". It's an interesting observation. Don't tell Hermione that I - my evil twin sometimes tears up books for art.

[eevilalice.livejournal.com]

I am honored by the icon change. :) Thanks for explaining your process there.

Your evil twin is aptly named. Though I still worry about her in a room along with Martha. ;)

[bk03.livejournal.com]

Excellent story, dark and beautiful at the same time. I liked the outside point of view, interesting perspective.

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I'm glad you found it "dark and beautiful". That's one of my favorite combinations. :)

[sans-grace.livejournal.com]

This is everything I had hoped could come from my prompt and more. The length of Hermiones neck adds a wonderful grotesque quality to the painting which, for me tended to leak into the story at the best times and lend itself to the horror of the situation. The writing is beautiful and dark and haunting and I love the uncertainty hinted at throughout. That despite her self annihilation and recreation in bid for safety, that safety is never guaranteed. It's all just so perfect, thank you so much.

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

You're welcome. Thank you! You left a series of compelling prompts, and this one just grabbed me and wouldn't let go. (In mid-December, I journaled, "I'm in love with a prompt.") I'm glad the art enhanced the story for you. I love your comment about uncertainty. That despite her self annihilation and recreation in bid for safety, that safety is never guaranteed. Well said. How long will Hermione really be able to maintain her mask?

Do you know the art of Lori Earley? I was drawing this style of girl before I found her online, but she is the ultimate practitioner of the "wonderful, grotesque quality" you mention. Her "Angela" makes me think of Narcissa Malfoy.

Thank you again.

[she-recs.livejournal.com]

Haunting!

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thanks for reading... And looking!

[inkprince.livejournal.com]

Amazing amazing artwork! :)

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thank you!! :)

[pauraque]

This was a really powerful and captivating story. You painted such a vivid picture of what Voldemort's world would be like, it drew me right in. The danger and horror are very real, not romanticized or softened, which is what makes it work. Hermione is doing what she has to do to survive -- by doing something Voldemort doesn't expect, she's able to derail him and take some control over the situation.

Narcissa is the perfect observer for this, because she understands what it's like to have to navigate a dangerous reality. I love that you show her fierce protectiveness of her family, and her relationship with Bellatrix is a real treat.

I felt Bella trembling beside me. She had much to lose. I hooked my little finger around hers. A surreptitious comfort, hidden behind my skirt.

I love this image! The hidden connection between them.

The art is superb. It has a feeling like a collage, not only the paper flower elements, but also the almost geometric shapes of her eyes. To me it suggests the mask that she's crafted for herself.

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! Glad you liked it. I am really struck by this comment you made: "Narcissa is the perfect observer for this, because she understands what it's like to have to navigate a dangerous reality." Well put - don't know if I put that together consciously, but Narcissa would definitely understand moving though such a dangerous environment with elegance and poise. (I was fascinated by the aspect of "the court" as it began to form and the secrets, power struggles and intrigues which that would involve.)

Thank you for your comments on the art as well. Now, I'm looking at her eyes (she's on my wall). I love that you see a mask in them.

I've been remiss in re-reading and reviewing your Hermione/Sirius Kinkfest, which I read and greatly admired when it was published. Off to do that now. :)

[kazfeist.livejournal.com]

This was extraordinary....powerful and moving. Well done! :D

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! Glad you liked it. :)

[starduchess.livejournal.com]

Beautiful, just beautiful and a bit sad, both the art and the fic. Hermione is smart and strong in her own way, but this could end in multiple scenarios as Narcissa mentions. And I really liked that outside POV.

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I found is rather easy to write from Narcissa's point of view. She is a great character. Unfortunately in a Voldemort wins, I see no good end possible personally.

[capitu]

The art is gorgeous! The story kind of sad, but so lovely. I loved how well it worked from Narcissa's POV.

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! I do like how the art turned out. The story came after because I just felt the need to explain a bit more.

[gertrudeflint.livejournal.com]

Really nicely done! I particularly admire Narcissa's voice as narrator, and how you filter Hermione's tale through Narcissa's concerns and priorities. When she begs Lady Flower not to harm Lucius and Draco - a moving moment there. Have to cheer the demise of Rodolphus, too, and I wouldn't bet on Bellatrix surviving much longer - she's sure to snap at some point and attack Lady Flower, right? And your Voldemort is just right: magnificently creepy and DarkLordish.

Only thing I couldn't get into was Hermione's totally out-of-nowhere Awesome!Singing Voice... to me, it seemed a touch too Mary Sue. Still, that's just my personal taste, and a minor detail in a great story overall. Well written! :)

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Thank you! :) You have a good point about Hermione's voice. I could see how that would feel out of place. Well, what's done is done. And Bellatrix - you think she'll flip out after Rodolphus? If she does, Narcissa will only go so far to try to help her. She's got her family of three now, which is her concern and priority.

[birdsofshore]

I definitely saw this at the time *spanks self for not commenting*. Again, it's totally memorable, affecting and beautiful. The art and fic complement one another perfectly, and her eyes are beautifully expressive. Really great work.

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

Ha! Well, spanking is not only allowed, but encouraged, at Kinkfest. :) Thank you for your nice comments! In this one the art came first, but I felt like it needed a story.

FYI, this Kinkfest was where I first read you, I think, with that glorious armpit fetish fic (so well written!) and I've been following you ever since.

[birdsofshore]

Well, apparently it was mutual, but I was just too unobservant to notice that it was the same person making all these cool things that I enjoyed.

This would be one of those situations where it would be brilliant in RL if someone asked "so, how did you two meet?" We could say airily, "Oh, we bonded over armpit porn." :DD

[captainraychill.livejournal.com]

LOL!!!! Really - I just almost spit up some soda. I'm going to save that to use one day if I am ever brave. Armpit porn and giant birthday dildos. :)