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remix_reduxTitle: Care and Feeding (the Regency Housewife mix)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nopejr
Summary: Bellatrix has a new pet.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Bellatrix Lestrange
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Harry Potter created by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement or defamation is intended.
Original story: Care and Feeding by Mad Maudlin
Note: Original story is NC-17!
Care and Feeding (the Regency Housewife mix)
I, Bellatrix Lestrange -- her of the sleek black hair and cherry lips, an alabaster skinned daughter of the House of Black -- perched daintily upon a divan in the bright drawing room and sipped Earl Grey from a delicate, bone china cup. The men folk, swarthy MacNair and the quixotically handsome Lord V—— were cheerfully puffing away on their sweet smelling pipes and discussing grave matters of the state and especially of sports. I smiled indulgently at their animated discussion, at MacNair's childish fancies and at his Lordship's courtly wisdom and fine humour in instructing his companion, and made sure to keep their glasses properly filled. The sun was over the yardarm, after all; besides, I was ever the consummate host, always giving, to the best of my ability and the utmost of my duty. It was no wonder, then, that his darling Lordship turned to me with a beatific smile and announced he had acquired a pedigree pet for my pleasure and amusement. It was only my due, though I accepted it with due modesty and decorum.
When the time came, the footmen, stuffy in their sombre garb, brought the puppy in with rather more force than I felt warranted such a weak little thing, a belief I rather felt obliged to inform MacNair of. He did not see it my way, of course, especially not when one of the footmen revealed the puppy had bitten one of the men. I confess I laughed at that, a musical sound, I have often thought, not unlike the bright notes of cool glass wind chimes in a pleasant summer's breeze. The poor animal could no more harm a man than I would have -- save, of course, should I be called upon to defend my family and my homestead from those dour barbarians who, it sometimes seems, have no better recourse for their pains than to set upon us at every turn.
MacNair suggested that the puppy might be better off left wild, to run with the wolves, as wild things were. I assured him that, as his Lordship had so cleverly foreseen, the puppy was exactly what I wanted; indeed, with the proper handling, of which I in no immodesty considered myself an expert, any animal could be trained to its owner's satisfaction. I dutifully heard out his protestations of the animals distemper and suggestions that I keep the poor thing constantly constrained by collar and leash while just as intently discarding the same. A man whose work demands he despatch many dangerous animals soon comes to view all creatures in the same distasteful light. I had no such flaw and, upon MacNair's rather sullen exit, set myself at once to the task of cleaning up the poor beast.
He had been most woefully mistreated, a state of affairs I had sadly come to expect. So few men seemed to have grown beyond those destructive boyish urges when it came to their toys, save for his Lordship who was always refined and genteel in all things. I lifted him with an ease born not of my own strength, though I was by no means a weakling child, but rather a consequence of the puppy's own malnutrition, and carried him into the bathroom. Surmising that, in his weakened state, he could quite easily drown in a full tub, I had it drawn only half-full and kept the water suitably warm but not too hot.
I am by no stretch of the imagination a qualified Healer, but it has been my fortune to have a sharp mind and an inquisitive nature and I have often contented myself on long evenings spent sadly apart from my dear husband ensconced in one textbook or other from his library, learning the intricacies of our frail mortal forms. A good wife, like a good host, should be prepared to attend to any eventuality, be it to sooth the scratch of brambles or set a bone broken in some unfortunate fall. Under my delicate, healing hands, the puppy's aches and cares fair melted away. It required three whole changes of water to clear the tells of his mistreatment from him, but under that matted grime that better suited MacNair's estimation, I found soft skin, strong bones, the stirrings of a healthy body, and hair of the most glorious russet colour.
His head fell back, he gave a soft sigh of pleasure at my touch, and he slept. I smiled softly. Poor exhausted puppy. I washed my hands in the last of the clean water, before drying him carefully and setting him down on my bed. The emptying and cleaning of the rub and towels I left with strict instructions to hands of the servants, who always display a readiness of effort if not of wit, and upon changing into appropriate attire, I too retired for the night, softly stroking my new pet to acclimatise him to my touch. Contact is important in these cases. The animal must respond properly to handling or it is of little use to anyone, and similarly the owner should be comfortably familiar with every part of her pet in order to maintain it in the proper fashion.
It was some time before he awoke, whining, making weak interrogative noises. I endeavoured to impress his newfound safety upon the animal, stroking his brow, fingers working through these soft red-brown strands. He made more noise and tried to escape me. I tightened my grip, holding him still. Pets are like children. A weak parent spoils the babe; I have often cautioned my dear sister on the same, but she pays no heed, and we have all seen what the consequences of that are. You can be fair, but you must always be firm. You must set boundaries, and properly enforce them. I tightened my grip again. He settled back and I pressed a kiss to his brow for being a good puppy. Punish bad behaviour, reward good behaviour. It is a simple, yet effortlessly effective strategy.
Almost as if conjured by my passing thought of her, I soon thereafter found myself entertaining my sister at morning tea. Narcissa came dressed in pale yellow robes that did nothing for her hair and made her complexion seem rather washed-out. She made little pretence at proprietary and with her usual lack of subtlety, so different to my own cultivated grace, steered the conversation to my newest acquisition. The pet in question remained in his room, of course; I had carefully covered the exits for his safety. Anything could happen if he just wandered off. Pets rarely knew how to look after themselves properly. Narcissa was making some noise as usual; she never did have much understanding. I just smiled, content in my pet's beauty, and offered her another scone. My sister rightly took that as a comment on her weight, having none of my slim line beauty, and left soon after.
Training proceeded as intended; I matched each additional step to my pet's returning strength. Renewed vigour meant a greater testing of boundaries and, as with all such things, to give an inch is to lose a mile. The punishments necessarily grew in stature to match the defiance, although always in line with the scale of the infraction. It does no good to punish people harshly for small crimes; it only teaches them that they may as well just commit the large crimes to begin with. It was far better to be fair: a soft blow for a growl or two, a harder blow when the puppy showed his teeth, real pain for an attack and so on. Comforts can be as easily removed as pain can be inflicted, and often with great effect. The puppy proved to be delightfully spirited, offering some little truth to MacNair's opinion, but I diligently persisted and, in time, he came at my command, like the good boy I informed him he was.
It was not all plain sailing, of course. There were a few slips. My pet had a stubborn streak in him. One or two baths ended badly. Once, he refused his dinner, growled and barked and attacked me -- there was blood, quite distressing -- and I had to punish him quite, quite severely for that, regardless of his whimpering. Only the once, though. He learned the reward for good behaviour and we settled into a routine that pleased both of us. While I was out, he remained in his room, playing with his toys. The servants kept them in good condition so he would not get bored. When I returned, we played together. I was his world, his protector, his comfort and his shelter. He was my good boy, my pretty boy, and I made sure to tell him so at every opportunity. I even brought him a collar to wear; I quite delighted in trailing fingers through red hair until I brushed the cool smoothness of brass. The contrast looked good on him: a beauty to match my own.
One day, of course, I will have to let him go. There is that last vestige of wildness in him, that lingering remnant of the wolf one finds in all dogs. Puppies grow up, and they grow old. They become intractable with age, almost parodies of themselves, no longer able to distinguish the reality of their behaviour from the habit of it. Age too has its own curse. All beauty fades before it, all health, memory and thought. It is better not to force one through such indignities. Yes, one day, I will have to put him down, though I am certain it will grieve me to do so. One day; until then, I shall remain his devoted owner, and he shall remain my very good boy, my pretty boy, my love, my puppy, my Ron.
Author:
nopejrSummary: Bellatrix has a new pet.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Bellatrix Lestrange
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Harry Potter created by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement or defamation is intended.
Original story: Care and Feeding by Mad Maudlin
Note: Original story is NC-17!
Care and Feeding (the Regency Housewife mix)
I, Bellatrix Lestrange -- her of the sleek black hair and cherry lips, an alabaster skinned daughter of the House of Black -- perched daintily upon a divan in the bright drawing room and sipped Earl Grey from a delicate, bone china cup. The men folk, swarthy MacNair and the quixotically handsome Lord V—— were cheerfully puffing away on their sweet smelling pipes and discussing grave matters of the state and especially of sports. I smiled indulgently at their animated discussion, at MacNair's childish fancies and at his Lordship's courtly wisdom and fine humour in instructing his companion, and made sure to keep their glasses properly filled. The sun was over the yardarm, after all; besides, I was ever the consummate host, always giving, to the best of my ability and the utmost of my duty. It was no wonder, then, that his darling Lordship turned to me with a beatific smile and announced he had acquired a pedigree pet for my pleasure and amusement. It was only my due, though I accepted it with due modesty and decorum.
When the time came, the footmen, stuffy in their sombre garb, brought the puppy in with rather more force than I felt warranted such a weak little thing, a belief I rather felt obliged to inform MacNair of. He did not see it my way, of course, especially not when one of the footmen revealed the puppy had bitten one of the men. I confess I laughed at that, a musical sound, I have often thought, not unlike the bright notes of cool glass wind chimes in a pleasant summer's breeze. The poor animal could no more harm a man than I would have -- save, of course, should I be called upon to defend my family and my homestead from those dour barbarians who, it sometimes seems, have no better recourse for their pains than to set upon us at every turn.
MacNair suggested that the puppy might be better off left wild, to run with the wolves, as wild things were. I assured him that, as his Lordship had so cleverly foreseen, the puppy was exactly what I wanted; indeed, with the proper handling, of which I in no immodesty considered myself an expert, any animal could be trained to its owner's satisfaction. I dutifully heard out his protestations of the animals distemper and suggestions that I keep the poor thing constantly constrained by collar and leash while just as intently discarding the same. A man whose work demands he despatch many dangerous animals soon comes to view all creatures in the same distasteful light. I had no such flaw and, upon MacNair's rather sullen exit, set myself at once to the task of cleaning up the poor beast.
He had been most woefully mistreated, a state of affairs I had sadly come to expect. So few men seemed to have grown beyond those destructive boyish urges when it came to their toys, save for his Lordship who was always refined and genteel in all things. I lifted him with an ease born not of my own strength, though I was by no means a weakling child, but rather a consequence of the puppy's own malnutrition, and carried him into the bathroom. Surmising that, in his weakened state, he could quite easily drown in a full tub, I had it drawn only half-full and kept the water suitably warm but not too hot.
I am by no stretch of the imagination a qualified Healer, but it has been my fortune to have a sharp mind and an inquisitive nature and I have often contented myself on long evenings spent sadly apart from my dear husband ensconced in one textbook or other from his library, learning the intricacies of our frail mortal forms. A good wife, like a good host, should be prepared to attend to any eventuality, be it to sooth the scratch of brambles or set a bone broken in some unfortunate fall. Under my delicate, healing hands, the puppy's aches and cares fair melted away. It required three whole changes of water to clear the tells of his mistreatment from him, but under that matted grime that better suited MacNair's estimation, I found soft skin, strong bones, the stirrings of a healthy body, and hair of the most glorious russet colour.
His head fell back, he gave a soft sigh of pleasure at my touch, and he slept. I smiled softly. Poor exhausted puppy. I washed my hands in the last of the clean water, before drying him carefully and setting him down on my bed. The emptying and cleaning of the rub and towels I left with strict instructions to hands of the servants, who always display a readiness of effort if not of wit, and upon changing into appropriate attire, I too retired for the night, softly stroking my new pet to acclimatise him to my touch. Contact is important in these cases. The animal must respond properly to handling or it is of little use to anyone, and similarly the owner should be comfortably familiar with every part of her pet in order to maintain it in the proper fashion.
It was some time before he awoke, whining, making weak interrogative noises. I endeavoured to impress his newfound safety upon the animal, stroking his brow, fingers working through these soft red-brown strands. He made more noise and tried to escape me. I tightened my grip, holding him still. Pets are like children. A weak parent spoils the babe; I have often cautioned my dear sister on the same, but she pays no heed, and we have all seen what the consequences of that are. You can be fair, but you must always be firm. You must set boundaries, and properly enforce them. I tightened my grip again. He settled back and I pressed a kiss to his brow for being a good puppy. Punish bad behaviour, reward good behaviour. It is a simple, yet effortlessly effective strategy.
Almost as if conjured by my passing thought of her, I soon thereafter found myself entertaining my sister at morning tea. Narcissa came dressed in pale yellow robes that did nothing for her hair and made her complexion seem rather washed-out. She made little pretence at proprietary and with her usual lack of subtlety, so different to my own cultivated grace, steered the conversation to my newest acquisition. The pet in question remained in his room, of course; I had carefully covered the exits for his safety. Anything could happen if he just wandered off. Pets rarely knew how to look after themselves properly. Narcissa was making some noise as usual; she never did have much understanding. I just smiled, content in my pet's beauty, and offered her another scone. My sister rightly took that as a comment on her weight, having none of my slim line beauty, and left soon after.
Training proceeded as intended; I matched each additional step to my pet's returning strength. Renewed vigour meant a greater testing of boundaries and, as with all such things, to give an inch is to lose a mile. The punishments necessarily grew in stature to match the defiance, although always in line with the scale of the infraction. It does no good to punish people harshly for small crimes; it only teaches them that they may as well just commit the large crimes to begin with. It was far better to be fair: a soft blow for a growl or two, a harder blow when the puppy showed his teeth, real pain for an attack and so on. Comforts can be as easily removed as pain can be inflicted, and often with great effect. The puppy proved to be delightfully spirited, offering some little truth to MacNair's opinion, but I diligently persisted and, in time, he came at my command, like the good boy I informed him he was.
It was not all plain sailing, of course. There were a few slips. My pet had a stubborn streak in him. One or two baths ended badly. Once, he refused his dinner, growled and barked and attacked me -- there was blood, quite distressing -- and I had to punish him quite, quite severely for that, regardless of his whimpering. Only the once, though. He learned the reward for good behaviour and we settled into a routine that pleased both of us. While I was out, he remained in his room, playing with his toys. The servants kept them in good condition so he would not get bored. When I returned, we played together. I was his world, his protector, his comfort and his shelter. He was my good boy, my pretty boy, and I made sure to tell him so at every opportunity. I even brought him a collar to wear; I quite delighted in trailing fingers through red hair until I brushed the cool smoothness of brass. The contrast looked good on him: a beauty to match my own.
One day, of course, I will have to let him go. There is that last vestige of wildness in him, that lingering remnant of the wolf one finds in all dogs. Puppies grow up, and they grow old. They become intractable with age, almost parodies of themselves, no longer able to distinguish the reality of their behaviour from the habit of it. Age too has its own curse. All beauty fades before it, all health, memory and thought. It is better not to force one through such indignities. Yes, one day, I will have to put him down, though I am certain it will grieve me to do so. One day; until then, I shall remain his devoted owner, and he shall remain my very good boy, my pretty boy, my love, my puppy, my Ron.
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