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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 6:52:28 GMT -8
The Luckiest PG-13/T AU Bellamort
Chapter 1
always knew it was a bad idea. I had no clue why; I just felt it. Undoubtedly, I was concerned about attempting murder under the noses of a talented witch and wizard. Or perhaps I was worried about extra security precautions that had been taken, but whatever I was thinking, I never thought, never expected that the threat would come from the target itself. He was so small, so young, barely one year old. Yet it was he. That boy, that filthy, dirty child was the reason our lord, the greatest master, the most powerful man to ever rule, disappeared.
I had begged him not to go. I told him there would be other chances to kill him, that he should focus his attention on bigger threats, but he went after the boy anyways, and that Halloween night, he vanished forever.
I went looking for him, of course. Me, my husband, my brother-in-law, and a quiet spy who was the son of an important Ministry official, we all went looking for him. I was the most loyal, though; it was I who decided to search for him, I was the one who persuaded the others to join me, and I was the one who inflicted pain upon those who had gone against him. I was forced to believe that the scum were hiding him, for how could I grasp the fact he was truly gone? Leaving my enemies apparently dead upon the floor, I fled to search for him elsewhere. Unfortunately, they survived the Cruciatus Curse, and were somehow able to tell of their attackers before becoming completely insane from the experience. Two days later, the Aurors caught us. They shot at us from all sides, having surrounded us. I fell to my knees, dropped my wand, and put my hands up. What else could I do? I would never find my master if I died like my idiot husband. Showing loyalty for once, he did not stop fighting until they had no choice but to kill him. Idiot. He was never the brightest. I was constantly told I deserved better than him, even by his own brother.
Our brief trial was immediately after our capture. I openly admitted to having committed the crimes. I would never stoop as low as to deny being a follower. I was not such a coward and I would never deny my wonderful master, who had given us all so much. Even if I had tried, it wouldn't have worked. I had never tried to hide my loyalties, and I definitely made the front page countless times. I was known notoriously for being a cold-blooded murderer, and I prized that reputation.
My brother-in-law, much quieter after the death of his brother, also admitted simply that he had done all the crimes stated, though he was very subdued, and he did not laugh, nor did he hold his head up high with pride, like myself. The boy, though, who I had believed to have much potential, completely denied us. He cried to his mother and father, saying he had never done such things, he had never murdered or tortured or even stole anything, but the boy's father was probably more cold-blooded than ourselves and he denied that he had ever even had a son. Despite the grim situation, I could not help smiling at the news that he would suffer the same fate as us. If Rabastan and I were to go to Azkaban, at least Barty Crouch Junior would rot in prison as well.
As we were dragged away by the dementors, I felt a dull hopelessness spread through me that had nothing to do with the foul creatures. Nobody had ever escaped from Azkaban and lived to tell the tale. How was I supposed to find my master if I was shut away in a prison cell? I can't say that I didn't attempt to, either. I was unable to jump out the small, unbarred window, for they had taken away my wand, and there was not the slightest chance that I would survive the great drop without magic. The walls were smooth and there was no way to scale them. As I starved, sometimes intentionally, I tried to squeeze between the bars, but even my slight figure was unable to slide through the unyielding metal poles. Even when I felt there was no possible way to escape Azkaban, I would try to picture his whereabouts in my mind, but all I got were fuzzy images that became more blurred as time went on, or I became tired. My most common method, though, was screaming. I would call for him, hollering, sobbing uncontrollably, pleading to be free and serve my lord, screeching for forgiveness for anything I had ever done wrong to him. I would even yell as I slept uneasily, up until my voice became hoarse. Sometimes, when I was even more desperate, I would continue until I could only whisper, and even up until I could make no sound at all, and it would be many days before my voice returned to me, and my tears would stream only silently down my face. As the years passed, all hope I had left was drained from me. He would never set me free. I was forced to admit my beloved master, the Dark Lord, was dead. He would never come for me; he would never free his most loyal servant. The only woman in his ranks, the female warrior, would be stuck in this prison cell forevermore, and her precious master was gone. All this I admitted to myself, yet my screams continued to echo far into the night, and all around the dark prism, in dungeons and cells, the criminals of the wizarding world would mutter to each other, "Poor, poor Bellatrix," as my desperate voice traveled miles wide.
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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 6:54:56 GMT -8
Chapter 2
After I had been imprisoned for ten years, things became worse for me. I barely remember the last three years at all. I do recall being cold. Very cold. My mind had always been strong, for I had been trained by the Dark Lord himself to shield my mind from all unwanted intruders, but as I became more desperate, tired, and miserable, they managed to break in and steal any remaining happiness and warmth from me. Sometime, I was sure I would turn to ice, and I could have sworn my skin was blue. Then again, I was slowly becoming insane. My voice was constantly hoarse; I was screaming nonstop. Icy spades were digging at my heart and I was separated from all feeling except pain and coldness. Sometimes I would lie on my cot for days, unable to move, but unable to sleep as well. I would just lie there limply, forever, not eating or talking or even thinking. I was just lying there.
I no longer tried to control my hair, either, or even keep remotely clean. It wasn't that I had been very successful when I did attempt to fix it, but now, it seemed beyond rescue. My hair had always been kind of frizzy, and Narcissa would constantly taunt me for it, but it used to be more of an uncontrolled curl. Now it was just a mess. It had grown so uneven that the longest strand brushed my ankles and the shortest went barely past my chin. It was always tangled and dull, snarls twisting it into odd forms, always wilder than the day before. My bare feet were dark brown from the grime and my hands were almost as bad. My clothes were torn and ragged. I no longer tried to stay neat. I saw no reason to life, no reason to do anything. To this day, I'm have no clue what stopped me from jumping out that tiny window onto the greedy rocks below.
When I didn't think things could become worse, they did. In my eleventh year in Azkaban, my blood-traitor cousin escaped. It isn't as if I wanted him there, for I hated the fool and we never talked, even though we were related and our cells were across from each other's, but I was angry that he had gotten away. After all, he was an enemy of the Dark Lord. He had betrayed his family and deserved punishment for wasting his pureblood status. That was not all that bothered me. How had he done it? I closed my eyes one night and when I opened them the next morning after an unsuccessful night of trying to sleep, he was gone. He escaped, where I had had tried and failed so many times. He found a way out, and I missed it. I had no idea how to escape and I was still here, with those bloody dementors feeding on my soul. There was so little left of me. Yet, even though this seemed like it was the darkest moment, I found a crack of light in the deathly shadows of my mind. Sirius escaped. He had never shown any special skill or talent. I was the most powerful witch of the century. If my cousin escaped, so could I. Hadn't I always said that anything he could do, I could do ten times better?
Sirius's escape was a new kind of motivation. For yet another year, I worked tirelessly to escape, but I could not, and often I wondered how Sirius had done it. I bashed my head against the rough stone in anger to punish myself for not paying attention. If I had just kept my eyes open, I might have seen how he had done it, and I could break out as well.
About two years after Sirius ran away, I received a giant shock. The Dark Lord had returned. My heart leapt at the news. He was alive! He had accomplished the impossible; he had defeated death itself! A giant weight was lifted off me. My master had returned and he would free me, for sure. I felt a bit ashamed. My Lord had defeated death and I was held back by metal bars and creatures that had once did my lord's bidding. He would forgive me, though. I was sure of it. How could he not? I was his most loyal, was I not? Yet I remained in Azkaban, howling for him. Perhaps he was not coming. Was I really that unworthy? Did he intend to let me suffer in Hell forever?
It was a dark, misty night when I received my answer.
I was shivering under my thin, ragged blanket. I was aware that my chilled face was wet, and the dull thudding pain in my heart told me that I had been crying in my half-sleep.
I did not move as I heard creaking a bit beyond my cell; I assumed I had imagined it. I had been imagining things for a while now. I was slowly becoming insane, and I did not fight the idea. I knew it. Lately it had been even worse. My head was filled with buzzing nonsense, whispers, and the hisses of snakes. I had even seen dark shapes on the rough sea beyond.
But then, I heard a louder sound. I now knew I could not possibly be hallucinating. I remained where I was, listening.
I heard an inaudible mutter, probably from another prisoner, and then faint clinking. Perhaps Azkaban had a new occupant. Welcome to Hell. That was my new nickname for it. Hell. It described the place perfectly.
All was silent. Even the rustling of movements from the prisoners could not be heard. Suddenly, there was a giant crash, and my world was turned upside down.
I found myself on the floor, coughing as smoke and debris flew around me. Stones and metal bars were piled on top of me, and I felt their sharp points digging into my flesh. I could not shout, and I was pinned to the concrete. My lungs were struggling for air, but I could only breathe smoke and dust, depriving them of what they needed. Darkness began to press in from all sides, and I did not try to stop it. Before my vision was clouded over completely, though, I heard a shout and the weight was rapidly lifted off me. I struggled to my knees and stared into the eyes of someone I thought I would never see again. I looked into the beautiful, bold, scarlet eyes of my master.
"Bellatrix," he muttered, in both concern and mock exasperation. His expression clearly said to me, "Why is it always you?"
I would have responded, "No clue," but I was breathless, and not just from the smoke.
He was just as amazing as I remembered, maybe even more, with his beautiful, mysterious, snake-like appearance. His tall, slim frame and red eyes gave the impression of great power. His unearthly white skin glowed like and angel's.
I realized how helpless and ragged I must have looked to him. I saw my reflection in his wide eyes. I was panting on the floor, my uncontrollable hair streaming out in the wind. Blood trickled from several wounds and gushed out from my head. My face was filthy and had fresh tear-tracks. I figured that my eyes were bloodshot as well. I could see that my prison robes were coated in dirt, both from my many years of imprisonment and the explosion seconds before. They had many holes and rips and were also billowing in the wind.
Then I realized something. My robes and mass of hair were billowing in the wind, but there was no wind in Azkaban. The wind refreshed free people, and the prisoners were shut away from its gentle hands. Why was there wind? I looked up, and almost fainted from the shock. My eyes followed the gaping hole that stretched across the entire ceiling (I was on the top floor) and on the entire opposite wall. Half of Azkaban was blown up. Wow, I wasn't kidding when I said I'd break out better than Sirius. I was really going out with a bang.
I stumbled as I attempted to stand from my undignified position on the ground. I felt my lord's icy hand grip mine, firmly, but gently, as he pulled me out of the knee-deep rubble, but as soon as I was free of the mess, I threw myself to the ground, at his feet, apologizing, begging for mercy, kissing the hem of his robes, and bowing continuously, for I had convinced myself that I had done a miserable job to serve him and made lousy attempts to escape. This time, his cold fingertips gripped my jaw, and he tilted my chin upwards.
"Enough, Bellatrix. Hush, Bella, hush." He studied my filthy, lined face. "I doubt that you have been having fun these past years. You have sacrificed much, and have put forward your best effort, the most effort I have seen in a long time. You will be rewarded."
"Oh, thank you, my lord! Thank you, master!" My grateful, shocked voice was barely a whisper. I don't think I had the strength or energy to do any more.
"Get up. We must leave." He turned to the other Death Eaters, escapees and rescuers alike. "Go."
They disapparated.
"Hurry, Bellatrix." His urgent voice was now becoming impatient. "The Ministry will turn up soon."
I nodded and pushed myself up, only to fall again. I froze as I heard distant yells. The Dark Lord grasped my frail wrists and pulled me up, a bit more roughly than before.
"Hurry. We're going to your sister's house. We're meeting there. Come on Bellatrix. Apparate before the Ministry restores its charms! Apparate!"
I did not see how I was going to apparate. I was extremely unpracticed and weak. I was kind of sure my feet were place firmly on the ground, but the room was spinning and my lord swam back and forth before my eyes. I wasn't sure how I was even standing. My wounds were creating searing pain and I wanted to collapse from it, as well as from exhaustion. I saw a blur of red and then felt something warm on my chest. The blood from a deep cut on my forehead was dripping from my chin.
"Bellatrix," he snapped. "Bellatrix? Bella?" I heard the worry in his voice, but his concerned face blurred within a few seconds. When I was sure the world was about to end, my legs decided they could hold me no longer, and darkness rushed in, once again, as by legs buckled, the yells slurred, and the Dark Lord watched me crumple into a heap on the dusty, cold ground.
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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 6:55:54 GMT -8
Chapter 3
Dreams. Blurs. Nonsense. Snakes. Soup. Red.. Pain. Hungry. Cold. Tears. Blurs. Dark. Voices.
Cold.
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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 6:57:08 GMT -8
Chapter 4
Shimmer. Green. Red. Black. White. Blurs. Hot. Discomfort. Ow. Headache. Confusion.
Where…? I don't remember… Ugh. My head hurts like hell. Ah. Wait. Why does my head hurt? I've never had a headache before. Oh, wait. I have. Recently. And by recently I mean since thirteen years ago. Oh yeah. That's right. I completely forgot. Yeah. Azkaban. Ugh, it's hot in here. Wait. Azkaban isn't hot.
Oops. It took me a few seconds to remember who I was. Then I realized something. I felt really groggy. Did that mean I actually got to sleep? I hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in years. This was something new to me. I was also wondering how I felt hot. Azkaban is always cold, with all those freaking dementors feeding on our souls. I then realized that the bed I was on was soft. My cot could be described as squishy and itchy, but not soft. I knew this wasn't Azkaban, but I had no idea where I was or how I got there.
I heard something, but I couldn't place the sound. It sounded…sharp, and I wasn't quite sure what I meant by that. In some ways, it reminded me of a howling dog, yet this sound was almost sweet, though sad. I also heard a person speaking, though I couldn't tell who they were or what they were saying. I tried to move a bit, but all of my body seemed to be frozen in one place. I tried to open my eyes, but it felt like magnets held my lids together. Since I saw nothing better to do, I let myself drift back into a well-needed sleep.
When I woke up for a second time, my senses came back to me a lot quicker, and I finally remembered what happened. I was in Azkaban and my lord came for me! He rescued me himself! Oh yeah, and then I fainted. I remembered him saying to apparate to my sister's house. I decided we must be at Malfoy Manor. To my relief, I did not hear any shouting, so I concluded that I had not missed the beginning of the meeting. I would be so ashamed to miss my first meeting in thirteen years.
Although it took a few tries, I was able to open my eyes a crack, but when I saw the room before me, they snapped completely open. The second I saw the room, I knew I was not in Malfoy Manor. Although my sister's house was truly grand, not even the two biggest rooms combined were even close to the size of this one. The bed I was on was absolutely huge with silver bedding. Even as my eyes became accustomed to the light, or lack of it, I could not see the rest of the room. I felt the worst I had in a long time. I decided I must be really exhausted if I couldn't even see ten feet in front of me, except for blurs. I could tell the room was huge because even my miserable eyes could see that the black floor, most likely marble, stretched across a vast area. The room was decorated in white, black, silver, and a shimmery, silvery green. It looked pretty Slytherin to me. Although I saw shapes in these colors, I could not tell what the objects were.
A slight rustling noise right to the right of me averted my attention to a figure only a few feet away from the edge of the bed. It took a few moments, but my eyes strained enough for me to realize it was a person sitting in a chair. They had their head buried in their hands. I strained my eyes a bit more, and before I gave up and closed them, I caught a glimpse of long, pale, slender fingers. I burned the picture into my mind and wondered who the person was. When it hit me, I was surprised it took so long. There was only one person I knew with hands as unique as those…
"My Lord—" I began, but it came out as a very hoarse squeak and ended in a long coughing fit. His head snapped up and he rushed to my side in two quick strides.
"Bellatrix, hush. Are you okay? Don't try to speak. Is that the end of the coughing? Good."
I opened my sore eyes and gazed at his face. He was looking at me with concern, and I could tell he had been worrying from the dark circles around his eyes. My heart leapt at the sight. It was amazing to see any sort of emotion from the man who was usually so cold and unfeeling. I know he would never really care, but hey, more inspiration for my dreams. I wasn't going to complain. I looked into his beautiful eyes and nodded to show I was fine.
He sighed. "We've been so worried about you. We…well, we weren't sure whether you were going to make it or not. I…I…" He stopped and dropped his head. He said in a quiet, solemn voice, "I thought I killed you."
I gasped in shock and gulped for a few seconds to prevent myself from coughing, which I had discovered was quite painful. I couldn't believe this. My lord never blamed himself for anything. Then again, I must have given everyone quite a fright.
"That wouldn't have been good, would it? I'm sure that would boost morale, wouldn't it Bellatrix? All my servants would beg to stay in Azkaban if they got captured, of out fear!"
I could tell he was joking around, something he never did, to try to make me feel better, but it actually had the opposite effect. I was letting my mind carry me away. It wouldn't be the first time. Yes, I was always being so stupid, trying to convince myself that he actually cared for me. Of course he didn't, not even as a friend. I was just a servant. Of course, I felt much more for him. I had always considered myself his friend, even though he wasn't mine. I felt more than that too, though I wasn't sure you could call it love…
Then I realized something. Had he been taking care of me? Had he actually been tending to me in the past few hours I had been here?
He answered my question before I even tried to ask.
"Your sister had been very scared for you, naturally. She's always hovering around." He caught sight of my expression. "Yes, Narcissa is here, and I can see you're excited about that." I looked around the room. "You won't find her here, though. She's been helping to take care of you, she came that very day when you broke out, but it's mostly me. She's very busy, of course, at home. I suppose Lucius is giving her more trouble than you are. She's been doing all the cooking, though, seeing as I'm hopeless, and I can't have house elves. She'll be gone for a few days, though. One of her house elves died and she needs to dispose of it and buy a new one."
The fact that he had been caring for me personally was like a female Hogwarts student receiving a kiss from one of the members of The Weird Sisters.
I remembered that The Dark Lord did not have house elves. It seemed that if anyone would have them, it would be he, but he could not have house elves because they were too untrustworthy. They would hear things that even his Inner Circle wouldn't. They could always betray him, because normal charms could not hold them, seeing as their elf magic was different.
This information, though, gave me new questions. It seemed that I had not been here for a few hours as I originally thought.
"How lo—?" I broke out coughing again.
"Bellatrix. Don't try to speak. You're straining yourself."
I nodded.
"Is there something you need? Hmm… we need a way to communicate…" He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I have an idea," he said. "Lower your shield." I looked at him with a confused expression. "Lower the shield around your mind. I'll read your thoughts."
I obeyed, but I did not remove it completely. I let it remain over my deepest secrets, like my feelings for him. It wasn't exactly a secret. I was sure he had noticed before, but it just didn't feel right to have him actually see it in my mind.
My lord, how long have I been…sleeping?
"It's been about a week." My eyes widened. "You see why we've been worried." Drat. I must have missed the meeting.
And my lord, please, where am I?
"This," he replied, smirking, "is my home."
My heart jumped and I quickly blocked the feeling from him, but the amused expression on his face told me he had felt a flash of it. His eyes seemed to taunt, "Happy, Bellatrix?" I was overcome in pride.
I then remembered why I had woken up in the first place, and squirmed, trying to push the covers off me.
"Bella! Stop!" He grasped my hand. Chills went up my arm. He looked at me carefully. "Is there anything you need? I'll get it for you."
Please, my lord, I'm the servant, not you. With that, I tried once more to lift the heavy blanket.
"Bella, please, stop. If you hurt yourself, it won't make it easier for me." I stopped. "Now, what do you need?"
Please my lord, if you could take the covers off, please. I'm not used to this. It was always so cold in Azkaban.
"Honestly, Bella, you were worried about that? Am I really that incapable?" I blushed furiously. I turned even more red when he pulled the covers off. I had forgotten how filthy I was. I began to squirm. He looked at me with a scared and confused expression until he realized at the last moment what I was doing. He caught me right as I rolled off the edge. I continued to wriggle around.
"Bellatrix, stop it! What are you doing? Do you want to kill yourself? What is it? What's the matter?" I continued to fight him. He won. I found myself back on the bed.
Look at how filthy I am! I'm getting the bed all dirty!
"Really, Bella, do you think I care? It's dirty! So what? I'll clean it! It's not a big deal!"
I struggled again, though, despite his words, and this time he only reacted quick enough to break my fall. Even so, every bit of my body ached as I hit the soft green rug beneath me.
"Bellatrix, are you okay? Stop struggling! Fine, I won't put you back. Just stop before you hurt yourself."
He pulled me up so he could hold me in place, most likely so he would not have to worry about me injuring myself.
"Are you okay?"
I nodded, though I didn't feel fine.
What's wrong with me, by the way?
"Well, you're not exactly in tip top shape. You have a broken rib, a few broken toes and fingers, a deep head wound, a fever, and in general, you're just pretty banged up."
Oh. Wait, now I'm getting your clothes all dirty.
"Don't you dare!" He stopped me before I could fall to the floor, once again.
I looked at him apologetically.
I'm sorry my lord. I'm just not used to this. It's okay to be filthy in Azkaban, but to be like this in such a clean place…
"I understand. Don't worry, Narcissa will be back in five days to clean you up."
What? Five days! I can't wait that long. I feel so … icky!
"Here, I'll clean you up the best I can with a few charms. It's the best I can do."
He flicked his wand a few times. I could feel incredible power from it, but I was so completely disgusting that my skin lightened only a shade, only half the holes in my clothes mended, and my hair only twitched feebly. He repeated this motion with no result.
That didn't really help. I feel awful.
"Well, I'm sorry! What else can I do, Bellatrix? I did the best anyone could ever do! I'd let you clean yourself, but I don't think you can even stand right now!" I could see his patience was wearing, but my anger and desperation was building up.
I CAN'T live like this!
"Well, what do you expect me to do? Give you a bath myself?"
My face turned the reddest it ever had, and his did the same when he realized that was exactly what I had in mind.
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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 6:57:57 GMT -8
Chapter 5
"You don't mean…?" he asked to confirm his suspicions.
I didn't respond, but just glanced down guiltily.
"No. Absolutely not. I'm sorry, Bellatrix, but this is going too far. I'll get you food, something to drink, another pillow, but I will absolutely not give you a bath. It's not right."
I didn't try to fight him on that. I was getting way out of line. I had no clue what was getting into me. On top of speaking to him with utter disrespect, I had suggested something that I should be killed for even suggesting.
I'm so sorry, my lord. Please, master, have mercy on me. That was wrong of me. I'm just getting desperate. Please, your greatness, forgive me. It's not that bad. Look, it's only a little dirt. I'll be fine.
The red in his face brightened a bit before fading away. He mumbled something inaudible.
I waved my hand to my shoulder to show him it wasn't too grimy, but the small force from the air stung it so fiercely that I gave a small, rough cry of pain. My lord, who had been turning away, looked back at me.
"What is it, Bella?" I turned my head and examined it. There was a long, swollen, red mark across it with several fresh beads of blood. He looked at it closely and frowned. "I've already healed this twice," he said. He rolled up his sleeve and touched it gently with his pinkie. I actually screamed in pain, it burned so badly. The scream quickly led to a coughing fit, which was the worst and longest one yet. It left my throat raw and my chest aching so much that I would probably scream again if I did not know that it would hurt even more if I did that.
His hand rested on my head as I gulped in air agonizingly. "Careful, Bella, careful. You have to be careful with your rib." I couldn't nod, so I just closed my eyes and hoped he understood that I knew.
I opened them once more. He was staring at the wound, very careful not to touch. After looking at it thoroughly, his eyes widened and he blushed again. I didn't see what he was embarrassed about.
He finally spoke up. "It's badly infected…and getting worse. It..." he trailed off, looking absolutely furious. I wriggled back away from him a bit, not that it would do much good if I were about to face his wrath for who knows what. He noticed my terrified movements.
"Stop squirming, Bellatrix. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just upset about the…situation"
I raised my eyebrows.
"It won't heal until it's clean. And I'm very worried about this cut. It could be serious. If only there were some other way… but there is not."
I just stared at his boiling face for a moment. Then it sunk in. He was actually going to give me a bath. Though I had always dreamt of something like this, I felt the warmth in my face rising. Something that had seemed so appealing before, now seemed…wrong. My master was going to see me naked in a tub. When I said it like that, it didn't sound fun at all, and for the first time I became angry at myself and my injuries. It wasn't fun being helpless. I wished this bath could be by choice, and not because it was absolutely necessary if we wanted to guarantee my survival.
"Are-are you ready?"
I was not, but the cut on my shoulder was stinging like hell, along with some that I felt on my back and limbs. I nodded slowly.
I don't know what I expected, maybe a levitation charm or something like that, but I was surprised when my lord gently pulled me into his arms and rose slowly. He was being very careful with me, but my body was still screaming in pain. He took a step a bit too quickly and it felt like being blown into a brick wall. I now knew how frail I really was at the moment, and it scared me.
Despite my discomfort, I was in awe when we walked into the bathroom. It was all black marble with jade faucets. There was actually a swimming pool, as well as a tub. The tub itself was the size of a small swimming pool, and it had a shallow end and a deep end. My lord looked hesitantly around for a place to put me. Finding none, he walked over to a jade snake and whispered to it in Parseltongue. Immediately, a silver couch appeared. He laid me gently onto it. He then drew his wand from his sleeve and filled the tub with bubbly water that actually glittered green and silver. He then picked me up again, very carefully and sat me at the edge, where he leaned me up against him. He blushed bright red, and I could tell he really didn't want to do this. I felt a rush of affection for his selflessness, something that was rarely seen. Then again, this was to his own advantage. He just didn't want to lose a servant.
"Bellatrix, if I hold the sleeves, do you think you can pull your arms out?" I couldn't even lift my arm. I shook my head. He hesitated and took out his wand again. He walked behind me and after a second, my prison robes fell off me. He had slit them open in the back. He walked to the tub without even looking at me and he tested the water with his finger, then made a few adjustments by flicking is wand. When he turned around, his eyes flew over my body quickly before locking on the ground. I saw a flash of something on his face before he wiped his expression clean. I frowned, knowing I would never find out whether it was from surprise, disgust, or lust.
Realizing he had no other choice, my master slowly walked over to me and scooped me up carefully once more, trying to limit touching me inappropriately. He gently put me down in the warm water. It felt good and soothing, but at the same time, I got chills, and my cuts began to sting. The problem now was how he was going to wash me without me falling over, for I did not have the energy to hold myself upright. He growled angrily, and before I saw what he was doing, I found myself resting up against him, though he was fully clothed. All the same, I was beginning not to mind this bath…
"First thing we need to do is take care of your face," he said, and he turned me around, leaving us in an awkward situation. He settled for sitting with his knees up, with me on his lap, back against his legs. I would've laughed if I had been watching the moment. He looked extremely uncomfortable, and I'm sure I did, as well. He did not use his wand, but took a bar of soap made especially for faces and lathered it in his hands.
"Close your eyes," he commanded and lightly rubbed the soap onto my face. He was very gentle, only rubbing hard here and there when there was a difficult patch of dirt, but careful not to hurt me. I liked the way his hands felt on my skin, his cool fingers touching my face. I was startled as a great stream of cold water poured over my head to rinse off the suds. I opened my eyes to see him putting his wand on a stand beside the tub, after creating a beautiful silver and emerald mirror. He held it up to me to see my face. It was unrecognizable. I realized without the dirt, that my face had not aged and hollowed as much as I thought. In fact, I could not spot any lines and my cheeks were not too hollowed out, though I was too skinny for good health. Only the bags under my eyes remained and those would go as I got more rest. I was seeing my real reflection for the first time in a long time, and I think my lord understood the importance of the moment, for he held the mirror up for me for a long time, before setting it down beside his wand. He then took another bar of soap and washed my neck, shoulders, arms, and hands.
"Can you…?" I knew what he meant, and what he didn't want to do.
I don't know. Let me try.
He held out the bar of soap and supported my hand as I grasped it. I lifted it up to my chest, but before I could even scrub, my arm fell out of exhaustion and the slippery bar slipped from my weak grip and fell into the soapy water with a loud splash. My lord picked it up out of the water. I felt bad as his sleeve got soaking wet and began to cry.
"Bellatrix, what is it?" He seemed at a loss for what to do. He hesitantly pulled me into his strong chest. "Hush. I know it might be frightening or difficult for you, but you'll get better." I pointed to his sleeve. This time he did not snap at me for silly things but addressed me gently. "Don't worry, Bella. It's just water. I can dry it in a heartbeat. Besides, it doesn't really make a difference, does it?" he asked gesturing towards the soaked parts of his robes, including the whole bottom half that was submerged. I laughed weakly, but was relieved when I did not cough. "It's okay. We'll be okay. I can do it. We'll just have to manage until Narcissa gets back," he comforted me, and lathered the bar of soap in his hands.
I knew he was doing it just because he had to, but I had never felt anything as wonderful as this. His hands running over my chest could not compare to any experience. Rodulphus, who had never loved me, had never touched me like this. I had never had any sort of physical affection shown towards me, and even though I knew this wasn't affection, this was nothing, it was amazing, especially since it was from the one who I had lusted over my entire life. I kept my eyes closed, enjoying the sensation. I did not care to see my lord's expression, because I knew if he saw me watching, his face would be either expressionless or bright red. I laughed softly as my tits hardened because now I knew his face was bright red from my body's reaction. I wished the moment could go on forever, but to my disappointment, he quickly moved on to my stomach, which was still very enjoyable, though not to the same level.
He frowned at me. "Were they trying to kill you in Azkaban? Your ribs are sticking out. You're going to need to gain some weight if you want to be healthy again."
I decided to use the moment to my advantage. Do you mean I'm UGLY? I'm too skinny? Like a stick? Are you saying nobody will like me anymore?
"No! Of course not! I'm concerned for your health, that's all. Everyone needs a little fat. You shouldn't be skin and bone."
I smiled, although I did feel a little guilty for tricking him. I wanted to be his closest follower, the follower he trusted, not just any old servant. I wanted him to treat me like a person, not a possession. I was back from Azkaban and I was out for more than a badge or a few galleons. I wanted his trust. I wanted meaning. This was the first step, to get him to speak kind words, and mean it.
He then let me do my waist, privates, and upper legs myself, but did my lower legs and feet, since I could not reach them without bending over. I squirmed around, giggling. I think he may have actually enjoyed this part, for the sake of tickling me. I wouldn't doubt it if that was the first time he ever tickled anyone, or played any sort of game.
He then surprised me by asking what scents I liked. Um… Anything that doesn't smell like Azkaban or shit…but I guess that's the same thing. Hmm… I think I remember liking… peppermint.
He actually washed my hair with peppermint shampoo. He brought it out of nowhere, just by flicking his wand a few times. Along with the peppermint I smelled something else: his own personal touch, white chocolate. That was actually my favorite scent, but I was too afraid to say it because I thought he might realize that that was what he smelled like to me.
I loved the way he was so gentle yet rough with my hair. He cleaned it in such a way that it did not hurt, but I could just feel the power coming from his fingers. I easily settled into the rhythm of him massaging my scalp, and even began to get sleepy. Seeing that my eyes were drooping, he blew on the top of my head and the bubbles flew everywhere. I practically danced with delight. I hadn't been exposed to something so innocent and beautiful in a long time.
He pulled me close to him so my eyes were covered and he poured water on top of my head. I shivered at the cold, but it did feel refreshing, all the same. My hair was still not very clean so he washed it again. He tried to blow the foam again, but to tease him I dodged away. He tried again and I was so caught off guard that when I dodged him, I fell off his lap, into the deep end of the tub.
Although I was a bit shocked, I was not scared because I was an excellent swimmer. I had been able to swim without help since I was three, and I could beat my father by five. Immediately though, I realized that this was not going to be as easy as I thought. My whole body was heavy with tiredness and my back was sore and stiff. I moved my arms to propel myself back to the surface, but I barely moved. I began to panic. I began to kick my legs and wave my arms frantically, but I barely moved half a foot, and I was at least six from the surface.
I forced myself to relax. My lord would find me. I saw his figure swimming through the clouded water. It was going around the edges, and every now and then it would stop, searching.
I began to feel myself sinking. It was as if my lack of energy was pulling me down. I began to push upwards, not to get closer to the surface, but to stay at the same spot I was. I was getting frightened. My lord seemed unable to spot me through the thick bubbles, and I desperately needed air. My lungs were about to burst. I tried to keep my mouth closed and I stopped pedaling to plug my nose, but the strain became too much for me, and despite myself, I breathed in a large gulp of soapy water. I choked and now I need air even more. I could not stop my body from taking in more and more water in its search for oxygen. As the figure right above faded away into the darkness, I thought my first rational thought.
Look right below you. I prayed he would hear me and get to me before it was too late. My life had just started again. I did not want it to end.
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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 6:58:43 GMT -8
Chapter 6
I felt him grasp my wrist. I fought against the urge to fall unconscious and opened my eyes. We flew up to the surface. I coughed and gasped and he picked me up out of the water and rushed me to the silvery couch thing that was still in the room.
"Bella? Please, Bella! Are you okay?"
My coughing continued and he gently patted me on the back. It stopped and I brought in great gulps of air.
"Bellatrix?"
As my breathing evened out, I responded.
Yes, I just had a fright, that's all. He looked at me doubtfully. Really, my lord, it was awful, but I'm fine now. There's no lasting damage. It didn't even hurt as badly this time, even though I swallowed half the water in the tub. Really, I'm fine.
"If you're sure," he said worriedly. "Do you feel up to taking the rest of your bath, or do you want to go back to bed?"
Bath, please, I responded quickly. I really didn't feel too bad, although I was a bit shaken by what could've been a near death experience, and I would probably never have this opportunity again. Once back in the tub, he washed my hair three more times, even though two would've left it clean. He must have been blaming himself for the accident. After he was done, he stood up and pulled me to my feet. I leaned up against him, facing outwards. He poured cold water over my head, and his too in doing so, to rinse the suds away. He laid me on the couch once more and cast a drying charm on himself before walking over to me.
"You'll never get dry if I keep making you wet," he explained, probably thinking that I was resentful for him attending to his own needs before mine. I decided to let him think that.
He made a fluffy black towel appear. "You're in such a delicate condition that I wouldn't want to risk harming you with a drying charm," he said upon seeing my confused expression. I was glad when he began to dry me, for I was beginning to feel chilled. I leaned back, relaxing as he patted my body gently with the cloth. I began to feel better as warmth crept back into my limbs. I was surprised when he propped me up on the couch. I had actually dozed off a bit, and this did not go unnoticed.
"Bed. Now." He waved his wand and a nightgown appeared on me. It was light and thin, appropriate for the warm weather, and a little bit see-through. It was very soft, but not in a fuzzy way; it was more of a light, smooth way, and I believed it to be silk. At first, I thought it was silvery green, but as I moved around a bit, blues and purples appeared from the different angles of the fabric.
"Is it alright for you?" he asked. "It's spun from demiguise hair and foop feathers."
It's wonderful. It was the only thing I could say. I had never seen such a beautiful piece of clothing in all my life, and if this was only a nightgown, I couldn't help wondering what magnificent dress he would give me if I asked for a fancy ball gown.
He picked me up tenderly and carried me to the bedroom once more. This time, I could actually see some of the objects. They were all beautifully crafted and most had emerald, jade, or onyx on them. Most also had snakes, but they weren't an evil, menacing kind. They were mysterious with blank faces and relaxed bodies. They were pretty.
He carefully put me down on the bed.
"Would you like the covers on?"
I looked at the four layers. Only two please.
I don't know why, but my throat and eyes began to burn and I got a lump in my throat. I swallowed it down and turned my head away. I didn't want him to see I was crying again, especially without any reason. He noticed though, and he took my thin, pale hand in his own. I tuned towards him, unable to stop the warm, humiliating tears from running down my face. He wiped them away with his other had.
"You'll be okay." I don't think either of us knew what that meant. At the moment, there was nothing wrong. I was the happiest I had been for a long time. Still, I was comforted by his words. I looked into his eyes, and he looked into mine. That was it. We just stared at each other. I didn't know what to make of it, and I wondered if he was somehow seeing into my mind. I felt like he was, but I did not sense his presence in my mind. He seemed to be doing it the Muggle way, where they just tell by looking at your face. He probably would have felt he was intruding if he had done otherwise. I saw so much, yet so little in his own eyes. They displayed no emotion but curiosity, but had a certain blankness, like there were curtains blocking the view into the windows of his soul. I was surprised, for I would never expect that from him. I had seen the same look in my traitor sister, Andromeda's eyes. It could not be that he was as shy as her, afraid to let others see his feelings and thoughts, afraid to have support, or a friend. He could not be shy.
Despite my efforts, my eyelids began to droop, and he noticed.
"I should leave now. You need rest," I heard as I gave in to their heaviness. Slow, light footsteps faded out as they drew farther away.
His eyes were still burning on the inside of my lids.
Oh crap.
I realized something as I looked into those mysterious, powerful eyes, still lingering in my mind.
I didn't like the Dark Lord. I did not have a crush on him. I did not lust over him.
I never wanted to be his friend. There was a fork in the road, and I was heading down the steeper, darker, more dangerous path.
Merlin's fucking beard.
I was completely in love. I was in love with my master.
I loved him.
...
Shit.
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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 6:59:24 GMT -8
Chapter 7
When I woke up, I was disappointed, but not surprised, that my lord was not at my side. I must have been so tired; I didn't even remember falling asleep. I yawned and stretched, feeling the pain in my weak body, but it was a satisfying kind of pain, like working out an injury, not the exhausting type I had felt earlier. I turned over. Hesitantly, I put an unsteady foot on the ground. The other soon joined. Shakily, I stood for a moment, then took a step . . . and fell. After a few more attempts and painful falls, I managed to walk across the room. I froze as I heard sounds outside my room. When I recognized the sound, my brain went in a rush. I made my decision in a split second, crossed my fingers as I heard footsteps coming towards the door, and prayed I would make it back on time. I ran (or hobbled) over to the bed and launched myself onto the mattress, pulling the covers over myself and shutting my eyes right as the door slowly creaked open. Moments later, I felt a hand gently stroking my head and I pretended to just be waking up, making a big, fake yawn and opening my eyes very slowly.
"Bella, I know you might need more rest, but you must be hungry, and you need to eat to get your strength back."
I blinked sleepily at him. "You can cook?"
He stared at me. "Erm . . . not really."
"I didn't think you were the type."
"Well, can cook," he said defensively. "I learned how. You can't just go into the world, fresh from Hogwarts, not knowing how to make food for yourself. My cooking is just not particularly . . . tasty . . . or tolerable."
"Will I be able to stomach it?"
"Possibly?"
"Good enough for me." His words made me realize how starving I really was. I was so starved, that the emptiness made me want to puke, for whatever reason, which would have been quite a feat, due to the lack of food in my body at the moment. I felt like I was being turned inside out, and I wondered why I never felt like this, even in Azkaban.
"I don't suppose you can walk?"
I hesitated. Damn it. Another split-second decision. I was afraid of where I would go if he stopped caring for me. My house is now destroyed and my worthless husband is dead. I would be ashamed to be a burden to my sister and family, and I never liked Lucius very much. Besides, the Malfoys are not known Death Eaters. As much as I know my sister would welcome me into her home, even with all my carefulness, I would eventually expose them and their whole family would be sent to Azkaban without warning. I did not inherit any old house or mansion from my family, unlike the traitor Black. Oh, if only Auntie could see what her little Si-Si has done. She would gladly turn over her mansion to dear Trixie.
If he made me leave, I would have nowhere to go.
It was more than that, though.
I wanted him. I wanted him so badly. I didn't care how things were, whether he was supporting me because I couldn't sit, or if he was holding me lovingly, or even if he was strangling me for being such a pain! I just wanted to be in his arms, to see his face, to feel his breath on the back of my neck. I had discovered that all last night. I couldn't leave him. Not yet. Being a Death Eater was not enough for me.
"I don't think so." Then I gasped and covered my mouth. I had completely forgotten about my voice. Part of my cover had already been blown. He gasped as well when he caught on.
"I don't believe it, Bellatrix. You've already got your voice back. You're recovering very quickly. I guess you won't need to stay here much longer."
I was hurt badly at the words, because I had only been here one day, and I already wanted to stay forever. I tried hard not to let it show.
"Yes, my lord. It hurts, but I can," I said, managing to sound a bit hoarse, but not so much as to make it suspicious.
"Good. I'm glad it's back; I was missing the sound. It's been too quiet here, and I'm used to rowdy, drunk Death Eaters. Just don't strain yourself." He lifted me gently in his arms. I winced, pretending to be in pain, but not too much, because I didn't want him to know I was pretending, or on the complete opposite side, think I was seriously hurt.
When he stepped into the hall, I could not help but gasp. It was long and had a tall ceiling, a white marble floor, dark green walls, and silver banners. There were torches lining it that were enchanted to glow green instead of orange. The sight just looked unearthly. He seemed to notice my fascination and he slowed down so I could let it all sink in. We travelled very slowly as I marveled at the sight of it all. Things went along smoothly until we got to the stairs.
"Well?" I asked. "Why are you just standing?"
"I'm afraid to fall, or drop you. Wait there."
He Apparated to the bottom step of the deep, winding staircase and began to levitate me down. I did not enjoy the feeling, and I was feeling very sick.
"Stop!" I manage to choke out. He immediately let me down and Apparated up to me.
"What is it, Bella? What's wrong?"
"Don-do—" I swallowed. "Don't do that."
"Then how are you going to get down? I'm very nervous about carrying you, and you are in no state to Side-Along Apparate."
I was silent, but I knew I could not handle the levitation.
In the end, the situation became rather humorous. My lord would lift me up, sit me down carefully onto the step directly below, step down a step himself, and then repeat the action. It took quite a long time, though, and I was definitely ready for breakfast when he lifted me up three steps from the bottom and carried me the rest of the way to the kitchen.
"Toast or pencil shavings: which do you prefer, Bellatrix?" I decided to risk the toast, though I was pretty sure I would regret the choice later on.
Once I was seated comfortably, he took out his wand and summoned a piece of bread. He put butter on it and then flicked his wand. It instantly turned coal black.
He handed it to me, and I took it disbelievingly. Somehow, my appetite had just completely disappeared. I took a tiny bite, just to be polite, and gagged. Two minutes ago, I told myself I would eat ANYTHING I was so hungry. Now I wasn't sure. I tried to swallow it, but my body was resisting every attempt. I ended up coughing it up with a very embarrassed, red face.
"Is it really that bad?" He looked at me with an apologetic face. He even looked a little disappointed and upset.
The guilt of spitting it out and of lying to him about my condition was eating away at me.
"No! Of course not! Well . . ." He was giving me a look. "Okay. So, I couldn't stomach it. It's probably just . . . just . . . um . . . oh! It must be that my taste buds are injured or . . ." He was giving me another look. "Yes, I'm sorry. I really don't see how you can even eat your own food."
"I don't. Usually, I eat out, or at a servant's home. Very rarely do I make food for myself, and it's usually raw vegetables, seeing as I can't mess those up."
I felt really bad. "Don't worry about it, my lord. I'm just being a burden." He tried to speak. I didn't let him. "Yes I am. And I'm not saying that it's your fault, or even mine. It's just the way things are, and we both have to deal with it. Now since I'm being such a bother, how about I teach you to cook in return?"
He nodded.
"Good. Now, I never expected to ask this of you of all people, but do you happen to have any Muggle appliances? I don't think I'm up to doing magic, and besides, the Ministry has my wand."
He smirked. "No, I would not advise you to do magic, but I wouldn't be so sure about the whereabouts of your wand." He drew it out from his sleeve.
I was so excited to see it again, that I almost jumped off my chair and ran to him. Instead, I gripped the edges of my seat and gave a soft, delighted cry. I had always loved my wand. I loved the way it seemed even in sync with my mind, becoming warm when I was ready to cast a spell, as if it was gathering power, vibrating in a battle, like its adrenaline rushing in the moment. I loved every small knot in its unique twisted form that some would call gruesome, but I called beautiful. I was on the verge of crying tears of joy. I thought I would have to get a new one, probably by stealing someone else's, and that would certainly not be the same. The wand chooses the witch.
"I sent Avery to get it after the escape. I know how close the bond is between you and your wand; I can feel the power." I was in awe of this "sensing of power", but I was more interested in the little piece of wood in my hands. I held it up to get a better look, but misunderstanding my intentions, the Dark Lord snatched it away from me.
"No magic. I know you're happy, but you could tire yourself out easily." He handed it back to me. I stared at it a bit more before storing it carefully in my sleeve.
"About those Muggle appliances: Yes. I do happen to have some." He carried me over into another room that turned out to be a Muggle-style kitchen. Whoever could have guessed?
"Bread?" He brought about a dozen pieces.
"Hungry?" I asked slyly.
"Oh, no," he responded sarcastically. "These are all for you." That caused me to throw one of the slices of bread at him, requiring him to summon another.
"My, my, you are getting stronger already. Bella is a quick healer." I rolled my eyes, but secretly, I was worried. I needed to be a lot more careful or I would "heal" faster than I wanted to. I knew I was progressing quickly; last night I had not even been able to lift my arms, and this morning I had already walked.
I showed him how to put the bread into the toaster, only two pieces at a time, and stopped him just in time as he was about to butter the bread before we toasted it.
"No! My lord, that's what makes it burn. What are you DOING? NO, you can't set the timer for that long. That's ALSO what makes it burn."
"But Muggle technology can't amount to the magic I use to toast the bread," he said confused. "I have to set it to the highest setting to make it equal to my magic."
"Yes, well in case you didn't notice, you 'magicked' it a bit too much. That's ANOTHER way it burns."
"It wasn't that bad," he responded sulkily, which I burst out laughing at despite myself.
Twenty minutes and six discarded toasts later, we finally sat down to eat. The Dark Lord actually seemed surprised at the quality of the homemade food, some of which, he had even managed to make by himself. To my surprise, we did end up finishing all of our toast, which I had doubted, despite my famished state. Contentedly full, we slowly made our way back up the stairs.
"Back to bed," he commanded. I wasn't giving in so easily.
"What? I was just in bed! All we did was eat, and you expect me to just go back to sleep? There's so much I still need to see!"
"Yes, but you also need your rest, and you need it more. The house will still be here when you wake up."
"Fine," I agreed reluctantly and pouted, but when he left I got up again. I was not tired at all. Even if everything went according to plan, and I recovered slowly, I still had the urge to get my body working the right way again. I had never enjoyed the feeling of helplessness. While Narcissa and Andromeda had dreamed of being princesses rescued by princes, I had always admired the idea of being the strong warrior, killing many to save my prince. After all, that was what I had been named for. Bellatrix. The female warrior. Now I was fighting my own weakness and I did not intend to lose against it. Yet I would have to be sneaky, for I did not want to lose at my own game, either.
I practiced walking, jumping (lightly, of course, so I would not be discovered), and even a bit of running. When I was pleased with my progress, I settled into the bed and allowed myself to take a nap.
When I woke up, I realized that my bladder was a bit full. I shifted in discomfort and considered my options. I could not go myself, or my lord either would catch me or would become suspicious, but I remembered how awkward things were last time, and I did not want that again. Still, my choices were limited and I began to call for him.
"What it is it, Bella?" He ran in, concerned. Seeing that I was lying, relaxed in bed, though blushing a bit, his worry faded from his face.
"I have to . . . go."
"Go? Bella, what are you talking about? You can't leave! Look at you! You can't even walk! How would you get food, or get up the stairs, or get yourself to the— oh."
Good thing he caught on himself. I hadn't exactly been excited to tell him.
"You have to go to the loo," he mumbled.
He glanced at me, then back at the floor. "Well . . . come on then, I guess."
When we arrived, he asked, "I don't suppose you can…"
I decided he would overlook this small recovery in his relief. "Actually, I think I can. Just guide me over and close the door. I'll call you when I need to wash my hands." He looked thankful and closed the door quickly after bringing me to the spot. After relieving myself, I called him in and he sat me on top of the counter before washing my hands with his delicate, cool fingers.
This became the daily routine. Basically, he let me eat and sleep . . . and go to the restroom. I worked on getting my strength back, and pretty soon I felt like my own self. I pretended to get a little bit better every day for him, but even after a month had gone by, I was still not standing without support, walking, or performing magic. I was scared. That was all there was to it. I had never been so happy and I didn't want to leave this new life. I was scared to move on, and I was delaying it as much as possible.
In terms of our relationship, I was pleasantly surprised. I was not just a Death Eater. I was not even his best servant, the one who sat at his right at meetings (though there had actually not been any meetings since the escape), his assistant or leader of raids. Somehow, I had earned some respect from him, and I seemed to be giving him less. I don't mean that in a bad way. I would always respect him the same amount that I always had, but things were not as formal. I had stepped over the line many times, and then expected to get crucio-d, or punished somehow, but I wasn't. He would just laugh. For example, once we were eating toast for breakfast (actually, we always ate toast for breakfast, but we didn't mind at all), and I dropped a piece, butter-side down, on the floor. He laughed at me and I glared at him.
"Yeah right, like you're so perfect. At least my butter is on the floor, and not all over my face!"
I really expected to get seriously in trouble for that one, but he just stared at me with wide eyes, and I laughed when I saw what he was doing. He slowly brought his hand up to his face and gave a funny look at his yellow fingers. I was cracking up, and he took the opportunity to smear it across my face.
"Are you so sure?" We both laughed so hard.
I had never seen him laugh for real before. He had laughed cruelly, like when he was torturing a traitor, but this was a real laugh. It was a joyful laugh, an amused laugh, and I had never heard anything so beautiful. It suited his soft, cold voice in a mysterious, impossible way. It was like something that was never meant to be, like ice on fire, but so beautiful, just so beautiful.
I think he actually liked me. He was kind to me in a way that he had never shown to anyone before. There was some sort of friendship there, and I never had expected this to happen. I was so pleased with it, of course, but I never intended this to happen. I just wanted to enjoy my time with him, and it seemed that maybe this wouldn't end after all, even when I got better, though I would never have the chance to be so close to him again.
I had begun to use my magic again, and I was progressing quickly. I had summoned some squirrels from outside and was finally practicing Unforgivable Curses on them. After the third try, I finally Avada Kedavra-d one and I accidently yelled out in triumph. I froze for a moment, but he must have not heard me. I began to shoot sparks in the air, doing a little victory dance, quietly, of course. I was almost back in tiptop shape. Enjoying the moment, and launched myself into the air, jumping far higher than any Muggle possibly could. At that moment, the door swung open, and my lord saw me soaring through the air with my wand above my head. Fuck. My cover was blown.
He was staring at me with unbelieving eyes. I fell to the ground, hard, with a thud. He would never trust me again, and everything I had worked so hard for was going to waste. He would hate me forever.
"Bellatrix?" I could see the wheels turning inside his head as his eyes flicked rapidly from me, the squirrel on the floor, my wand, and then back to my face. His eyes widened to their limit. He rushed towards me, and I cringed, expecting to be hit, but instead I found him holding me.
"Bella! You're okay! I was beginning to worry you were never going to get better. Why didn't you let me know you were improving?"
I broke down into tears. He hugged me, actually hugged me tighter until my crying slowed down and I could somewhat speak again.
"I-I-I th-thought you-ou wouldn't w-w-waaant me anymooo-ooore," I sobbed into his shoulder. "I thought y-y-you w-would send me-e a-a-awaaaaaaaaaaaay when I got b-b-better and I don't have a-a-a-any-wh-ere t-t-t-t-t-o-o-o goooooooooooooooo!"
He tried to quiet me, but I went on.
"It's not j-j-just that! I-I-I'm h-h-happy here. I w-w-want to stay w-w-ith you!"
He pulled me off of him and wiped the tears off my face. "Bellatrix, I would never just abandon you with nowhere to go. You will stay until you're ready to move on. And I know you like it here, with me, but you can't stay forever. It wouldn't look right . . . to have a Death Eater living with me in my home. But for now, until it's time, you can stay."
I saw the sincerity in his face, but I was hurt at his words. Was he keeping me because he felt it was his duty as my leader, or was he actually enjoying my company?
"B-b-but don't you w-want me here? Are you happy? D-do you like me?"
I could see that inside, he was having a battle with himself. He had worked hard to never get attached to another person, and I saw that.
"Yes, Bella, you mean more to me than my other followers. You're different. You are my favorite, and I can trust you. You don't just carry out orders; you perform them with a passion. I notice this. I always have. And now I've gotten the chance to see the full extent of it. But we can't live together, Bella. It's not only that you are supposed to be a servant, it's . . . well . . . you are a woman and I am a man and people might assume . . . things. They might assume there is more than a friendship."
I nodded, but was unable to hold in the fresh sobs. He held me and rubbed my back as my shoulders shook and my warm tears soaked his shoulder. We sat like that for a while on the floor, and I kept crying, even when I wasn't sad anymore. I just needed a good cry. I had been keeping things all bottled up and I just needed to let them go.
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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 7:00:06 GMT -8
Chapter 8
I wanted him so bad. He was everything. My life, my soul, my reason for being. I loved him. And had never wanted to be so close to him as I did now, wanting, needing, his touch, his care. But did he care? I laughed with, cried with, feared with the man who I never thought had a single emotion inside him. But who was he? He was not the man I thought he was. And I liked his new personality. But was he really who I thought he was? What happened to the cold man who killed without a second thought, did not even acknowledge his servants with a nod of the head, yelled, tortured, hated, ignored me? It seemed logical that at any moment, without any warning, he would tackle me and stab me in the heart. Had he always been so . . . so . . . so insane? And at the moment I had thought he might even kill me, he actually took me into his arms and comforted me sincerely. He was not angry at my lies. He did not yell a bit. And the whole time, he had actually been feeling guilty that I had been injured. He was worried that I would never recover from the clumsy rescue.
And although I have opened myself to him more than I ever have before, I have many secrets still locked away in my heart. For instance, the one that is eating away on my conscience is how long I have been well for. I let my lord believe that I had made a recent recovery, when in fact, I had been better within the first week. I hold almost two months of lies inside me and they want to burst free. Maybe, at some point, I will purposely let the shield of my mind down and let him know.
My most closely guarded secret is that I love him with every inch of my being. Sometimes, I wonder if I should just let my shield slip for a moment, and let him know, by seemingly, an accident. Despite this plan, I am still afraid of what he would think. What if he was angry, just for what I feel in my heart? I cannot control my emotions. For any human, muggle and magic alike, the one thing that runs free of our minds' controls are our emotions. Sometimes I wonder what secrets my lord's heart holds.
That man confuses me so much. Aside from his odd personality, I cannot help but truly wonder what the hell I see in him. He is bald, and extremely pale, with a fairly fit, strong body, though nothing to be in awe about. Up until recently, I had only known him for his coldness and hate. Yet when I see him, even when I saw him in my teenage days, my heart pounds, the tips of my ears turn lightly pink, and a billion thoughts fly through my head at once.
That night, I dreamed only of him, of his warm embrace, skin so cool that still made me feel as if I was sitting next to a cozy fire. And after running the scene many times in my head, I imagined it further, him whispering my name, kissing me. For I cannot help my emotions. They run free of my mind, of my self-control. Sometimes I wonder if their home, my heart, is even connected to my mind.
But tragedy struck four days later. It started perfectly normal. We spoke comfortably together. We ate out daily toast at the kitchen table. I even taught my lord how to make bacon, magic-style this time. I remember our conversation.
"Why have you never learned how to cook? You can do anything. I know it, you know it. Someday, you will rule the world, and you shall rule for all our days. But why has this simple task always been so tricky for you?"
"I considered cooking above me. I was the Dark Lord, Voldemort. I didn't need to take any class on how to fend for myself. I thought I was all-powerful. I was wrong. Young Voldemort was foolish, I admit. He did not think things out properly. Hogwarts had professors to teach me, but I ignored that opportunity. I never thought about how risky servants would be, and how I would survive down the road. Certainly, I never expected to have a guest in my house."
"But I am the best guest you could ever have."
"Of course, you are correct, all knowing Bellatrix."
Then, for the first time since my arrival, my lord held a Death Eater meeting in the dining room. It was just how it had been before I was sent to Azkaban. Large, dark, with shining walls and a glittering chandelier of jade and onyx, it was beautiful, yet intimidating, and I still got the shivers. I hugged him tightly when he said I could come. He looked amused, yet walked away with a confused, concerned look. I almost laughed aloud.
It started with the seating arrangements. I was not at my lord's immediate right, nor was I directly to his left. In fact, I was near the opposite end of the table from which he sat. I was practically as far as I could be from him. I tried not to show the hurt expression on my face. He saw, and said, "Don't be offended Bellatrix, but all of my other servants have preformed duties worthy of honor since my return. As loyal as you were for me, all you have succeeded in since my downfall was playing with some Aurors, getting yourself thrown into Azkaban, and gotten injured. As much as I appreciate you loyalty and do not blame you for your not so great luck, I'm afraid the others would not feel the same." Those seemingly normal words were accompanied by a tone I did not like, and I wished he had not spoken in the first place.
Throughout the meeting, he was cold and cruel to me, laughing with his servants at my injuries, foul luck, and so on. It was not his kind, joyful laugh. It was the icy one that made you shake in fear, or stabbed your heart. It had the latter of the affects on me.
After dinner, when the plans had been discussed and the others had left, he ordered me to clean up. There was no "please" or explanation of his behavior. He just ordered me in his impatient, commanding voice.
His leaving words were what got to me. "Better be quick, lazy thing," he mumbled under his breath as he was exiting the room. I did something I couldn't ever have done before. His kindness had melted my heart. His coldness had frozen it back to its original state. His rudeness and sneers towards me were shattering it. But I was resisting. Pain clouded my vision and it swam from my eyes to the tips of my fingers that were holding a heavy bowl. As if in slow motion, the bowl soared from my outstretched arm in an arc, directly at his head across the huge room. I stared in horror. What had I done? I was about to call out to him, but his reactions were faster than mine were, and he spun around and flicked his wand, exploding the bowl into thousands of pieces. Through the dust, his eyes showed fury and astonishment. My own expression showed hurt, anger, fear, and disbelief all at once. I thought he would hurt me. He just stared at my tear-streaked face, hopelessness showing through every part of me.
"Why did you do it?" My voice was low and hoarse. "Why? Why are you acting like this to me? What have I done?"
"You hugged me."
I was confused. What was he talking about? Then I remembered how I hugged him in gratitude for letting me attend the meeting.
"So? What is wrong about that?"
"No other servant would have been allowed."
"Yes, well I'm not just any other servant! I thought you cared for me! I don't even know who you are anymore! You never treated me like this before your downfall! You never treated me like this after you—"
"Silence!" I shrunk back in fear. "That's the problem, Bellatrix! I haven't been thinking clearly! You should not be different from any other servant! You are just a pitiful useless woman who is trying too hard!"
"I thought we were friends! I thought you knew that!"
"The Dark Lord does not have friends. If you wanted a friend, Bellatrix, you should have tried another Death Eater." He sounded weary. "I'm no teddy bear. I do not care for anyone. Your hug made me realize that. This has gone too far. You are just a servant."
"How can you just ignore your own feelings? How can you deny the good times we've had in these past months?"
"HOW CAN YOU HAVE EVER BEFRIENDED ME? WHAT MADE YOU THINK YOU HAD THE RIGHT?"
"I DIDN'T EVEN MAKE A FIRST MOVE! OUR TROUBLES BROUGHT US TOGETHER! HOW CAN YOU EVEN ASK THAT?"
"WHY DID YOU EVEN BEFRIEND ME, BELLATRIX, WHY? UP UNTIL RECENTLY, YOU ALWAYS SHOWED RESPECT, TREATED ME RESPECTFULLY. SO WHY, NOW, DID YOU EVEN TRY?"
"IT WAS YOU, TOO!"
"I made a mistake."
"IT WAS NO MISTAKE."
"It was. And let me ask you this, Bellatrix Lestrange, because I really want to know. Out of all the people who ever have shown any amount of caring towards you, why have you been kind to me in return? You knew that there was hardly a chance of becoming close to me. Tell me why."
"N-n-no. No. I can't."
"Tell me why, Bellatrix." His tone was dangerous.
"I can't. I can't!" Tears were running down my face.
"What was it for?" He was suddenly right in front of me. "Fame, money, favor? WHY?"
"Because-b-because . . ."
"WHY? WHAT WAS IT?" he roared. "MY HOUSE, MY HEIRLOOMS, MY POWERS, MY SECRETS, MY—"
In a moment of intense fear, I acted on an impulse, and he broke off.
For the second time in mere minutes, I was playing with death.
He should have killed me for what I did then.
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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 7:25:51 GMT -8
Chapter 9
"Tell me why, Bellatrix." His tone was dangerous.
"I can't. I can't!" Tears were running down my face.
"What was it for?" He was suddenly right in front of me. "Fame, money, favor? WHY?"
"Because-b-because . . ."
"WHY? WHAT WAS IT?" he roared. "MY HOUSE, MY HEIRLOOMS, MY POWERS, MY SECRETS, MY—"
In a moment of intense fear, I acted on an impulse, and he broke off.
For the second time in mere minutes, I was playing with death.
He should have killed me for what I did then.
It happened so fast that I barely knew what happened myself.
One second my heart was racing, the next I was trying to choke out the words, the next I . . .
I acted foolishly.
I was just so scared. He was screaming at me, demanding a reason why I even decided to become his friend.
I knew it was the moment to tell him. It had to be. I could keep this secret no longer.
"I. . . I l-l-o-ov . . ." I couldn't speak the words. As he continued, I breathed deeply, forcing all dizziness away.
"I love you," I said, plain and clear, and I braced myself for his wrath.
Seconds like hours passed.
He was still yelling.
He hadn't even heard.
My mouth couldn't even form a shape. I was terrified, pressed against the wall. If he was acting like this now, what would he do when I told him? I could not lie. I just couldn't.
As he reached the peak of his volume, he seemed to glow, just for a second, and shivers flew down my spine. His eyes and lips seemed to jump from his face. He was beautiful, even in a moment of complete rage, and I acted on a sudden, frightened, love struck impulse.
One minute I was pressed against the wall. The next thing I knew, I had pulled him into a deep embrace.
Then I kissed him passionately.
In that second, my racing heart stopped. It was what I had dreamed of so frequently. It was not the exact moment I had pictured. He did not call to me, stroke my hair, pull me close, or return it.
But we were kissing.
He didn't try to fight it; he didn't even respond. He must have been just too shocked. I was savoring every millisecond. I felt his pulse racing. I breathed in his sweet scent. I tasted his lips on mine. It was a deep, rough kiss, not the romantic kind, but one that comes from desire and absolute need. He was pulled close to me. I fought the urge to open my eyes. I could see him any time I liked. I could not kiss whenever I wanted. I would probably never kiss him again.
Far too soon, he came to his senses and pushed me harshly away. His eyes were clouded with shock. All he could do for a moment was stand stiffly and stare with wide eyes. I could feel his mind stretching across the room, feeling things, trying to make sense of the situation. It was probably the most confusing moment of his life he had ever had. I knew what had just occurred would never happen again, but it was imprinted deeply in my mind. Just picturing it inside my head made my heart swell with adoration for him, and for a split second, I did the second most foolish thing.
I let down the shield on my mind.
My thoughts came rushing out, and his mind reached and caught on. I tried to defend my memories, but it was too late. We were bonded in an instant and we both saw what was happening and felt my feelings in each of the scenes to come.
They all seemed to be important moments throughout my entire life. Some were short. Some were long. Some were just mere seconds.
There was my first memory, the farthest back I could remember. Little Bella is five years old. There. I'm done. I throw daddy's wand on the table carelessly. I'm too excited.
"Mommy, Daddy!" I cry. "Look what I did!" I find them in the library. I am so proud. "You have to see it! Now!"
"Later, Bellatrix." I'm sad. I worked so hard.
"Please? You have to! You just have to!"
They follow me. Daddy and Mommy had redone the wall. They said that it was old. Well, this time my artwork would not get old. And it would last a long time, too. Not like those silly crayons they gave me. No. Now, I had my self-portrait magically burned into the wall.
"Mommy, Daddy, aren't you proud?" They won't complain about me being a girl anymore. Why do they care that they have grandchildren with the last name, "Black" or not?
But they aren't happy. Or proud. Daddy takes his wand off the table and slaps me on the wrist. Then he aims it at me and my right hand gets warm, and then hot, and then it's burning and I'm screaming and crying and he says, "Look what you did! Bad, Bellatrix Black, bad!"
The scene fades.
I am eleven. Flashes of new students, the Hogwarts Express, my first view of the school: they all flash past. The only drawn out moment is "Slytherin!"
Next, Bellatrix is twelve years old.
"What is that, Father?"
My father is grunting at the newspaper. He often does that when he is unhappy with what is going on in the world. It happens frequently. He looks up quickly at the sound of my deep, dignified voice. He is not yet used to the increasing maturity in my personality. He thinks I am still the little girl who melted her crayons with "the burning stick".
"Nothing," he says cautiously, which surprises me because he is normally very open with me. Maybe he is in a bad mood. Yet, he continues slowly, as if he is choosing his words very carefully. "It's just an article about a man who is a . . . um . . . a political leader of sorts."
"What about him?" I'm very interested. I do enjoy laughing at those idiots at the Ministry. Andromeda walks by with an unpleasant look on her face. She's been in such a terrible mood for the past few days. Hopefully, she'll get out of this soon. She can be downright sour when she is upset, and usually, she's the one who can cheer me up, not bring me down.
"Well, he is very . . . um . . . well . . . uh . . . supportive of purebloods, such as us."
Outside my memory, I can feel my lord's recognition of himself.
I perk up. Finally, a man who makes sense. "Tell me more," I say eagerly.
"Well, as it turns out, many people don't like him very much, most of those people coming from the Ministry. There are also some Mudbl- I mean Muggle-borns."
"Idiots at the Ministry, like always. Now, why would they oppose a guy like that?" I come around his big armchair and peer at the paper. I skim the article before he snaps it shut.
"Ah, nothing like a bit of torture to get those Mudbloods straightened up," I comment. He looks surprised at my blunt, violent nature but says nothing. I cast my eyes to the front page. There is an extremely pale, thin, man on the cover. He is the most handsome thing I have ever seen, even more than Evan Rosier who sometimes buys me sweets at Honeydukes in Hogsmeade, when my family takes me on vacation, for I am not yet old enough to go in school.
"Is that him, Father?" He nods. I try to sound uninterested. "May I please take this when you're through?" He hands it to me.
I turn back as I'm almost out of the room. "Father," I ask, "may I please wonder, why did you try to hide this from me?"
Andromeda walks by the other doorway again and he tilts his head in that direction. I stare for a second before it clicks into place.
"This is why she's been like this, isn't it?" I hold up the paper. "She's already seen this." He frowns in answer. I look after her sympathetically. "Poor dear, you know how soft she is. Don't worry, Father, she'll be back to her old self in a few days. Of course, she'll never support this man, but she will get over it. She always does."
I dash with the paper to my room. My room is a Slytherin girl's dream. A silver wall, shimmery green curtains and bedspread. Any scarlet accessories had gone when I learned of the rivalry between Gryffindor and my own house. I hardly pay any attention, of course. It is nothing new to me.
Once more, I stare at the picture of this fascinating man. Some would say his features are scary, with his ghost white face and dark hair and eyes, but I say that he is amazing in every way.
I rip open the paper and my eyes hungrily eat up the words. "Torture", "dislike and contempt towards Muggles", "charming, yet truly evil", "power hungry" . . . The words fly by so fast but every single phrase sinks in and etches itself into my mind.
"The Dark Lord". I am sure he is worthy of his title.
I read more. Everything he does, it seems to agree with my beliefs. He is surely powerful as well, and I am glad of the impact he is making on society. Suddenly, my racing eyes freeze.
"VOLDEMORT"
Back in the real world, I let out a moan of pleasure.
A moan of pleasure escapes my lips, and I wonder where it came from. It is the most mysterious, wonderful, beautiful name I have ever heard. I have the urge to whisper it aloud.
Yet I cannot.
It should not be spoken, that is how deserving of worship it is. Who ever thought that just a name could be deserving of such respect? Something in my heart told me it was wrong.
Sure enough, my instincts were correct. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
I lightly trace the name with my fingers then continue. I read the article several times, quickly, then slowly, savoring every detail.
"Voldemort". It leaves me in awe every time I see it and sighs threaten to escape.
I flip to the picture.
I am in love. It must be true love.
No. It can't be. It's just a crush. I'm only twelve. It's just a celebrity crush. I have heard people speaking of "You-Know-Who" before. He's famous. It's just a celebrity crush.
I love him.
No. I am twelve. Only twelve. He looks about twenty-something. He is actually more than thirty, according to the paper.
Love.
He's too old. I should not even be in love. I am not even a woman yet. It's just a crush. It's only because he is handsome.
Then why is my heart beating so fast?
He's just attractive.
He even hates Mudbloods.
Many do.
It must be true love.
No! It is not! It may be love, but it is not TRUE LOVE! I do not even know him!
I love him.
No, I don't care. Why would I care?
I carefully cut out the picture while my mind has a battle with itself. I paste it and the full three-page article on the wall. I sit on my bed and reread it, yet some of my thoughts still wander.
I love him.
I don't.
I DO!
NO. I DON'T.
But I have never felt this way.
It is only a passing crush. A silly schoolgirl crush.
Then why do tears fall from my eyes as I read, "Knows no emotions, least of all, love"?
More snips and clips of my life. My only failing grade ever from Care for Magical Creatures. When I broke my arm. An old friend and I fought. I graduated Hogwarts. I saw myself maturing, thinking older thoughts, realizing that one could not truly love a man she has never even met. Growing up. Becoming who I am today. More memories went by. Then I sensed a special one.
I met him.
It was fairly short, as it was a very short meeting to begin with, but I felt the emotions freshly like they were happening at that time.
Bella is eighteen years old. I'm trying on clothes.
I flinch as the Dark Lord sees things he shouldn't see if he doesn't love me . . . which he doesn't.
I just can't choose what to wear. Father says we will be having an important visitor tonight and I should dress my best for him. He had a mischievous look to his eye as he said it, and I do hope that he is not trying to marry me off to that Lestrange boy. He keeps rambling about him, and I haven't even seen him before.
If it is Lestrange, then I would rather wear something ugly, so that he is not interested in me. But I mustn't take chances, for it could be someone important, not Lestrange.
Finally, I decide on a dress that surprises me. It seems that with the Gryffindor rivalry gone, I am regaining my old love for the color blood red. The scarlet dress I have just slipped over my head is very short and exposing with a plunging v-neck and lots of black lace. Still, something is missing. I tie a thick, black, lacy ribbon around my waist. Perfect.
The memory is blurred and it speeds up, as if in fast forward. I can't remember anything that happened in the next twenty-five minutes of waiting. Slowly, it begins to increase in sharpness.
The doorbell rings. I want to sprint to the entrance hallway to see who it is, but instead I wait like a good, proper, pureblooded girl in the drawing room. I hear my father and his guest coming. I stand to greet them. I recognize my father's deep, rumbling voice. The other is cold, and quiet, but the kind that could still be heard miles wide. It is enchanting. I have the urge to peek around the corner, but I root my feet to the floor.
I gasp as I see who it is.
Lord Voldemort.
He is amazing, enchanting, and ten times as better as his picture in the two hundred twenty-seven articles about him hanging in my room.
I want him so bad.
Of course, I behave myself, curtsy deeply, smile at him, say what a pleasure it is, et cetera, et cetera. We have polite conversation, and my heart is racing the whole time.
We share our views on politics, and he speaks first, of course. I hang on to every word. I agree with everything, absolutely everything that he says.
My father generally agrees, but thinks that the Dark Lord is a bit extreme sometimes.
The Dark Lord, clever as he is, replies that extreme changes are needed.
Then he surprises me. "And Miss Black? What are your views?" I am so shocked for a moment that I can't even speak.
Out of all the men in the world, I would expect him not to include women in politics. And I would have understood. To most, although women have rights as much as any man, a woman's job is to be the perfect pureblood wife. And I tell him this.
"I'm sorry, my lord," I said after a few seconds of stunned silence. "I must admit, I did not expect that you would have any interest in a girl's views. So I will start off by saying, that the perfect pureblooded woman, is not the one who sits home and takes care of children all day, but the one who works as hard as man to improve society. And that is why, my lord, if you would consider it. . ." I glance at my father, who was not expecting this. ". . . I would like to become one of your loyal servants."
I expect to be reprimanded for my cheekiness, but instead the Dark Lord looks at me thoughtfully, with an amused expression on his face.
"I will most definitely consider it, Miss Black. I had not ever thought of having women in my ranks, but if that is your wish, I will see what I can do. If any woman is right for the job, it seems to be you." He pauses. "However, you will need to take a test, just a short, practical examination to see what you know. You'll also require special Death Eater training. And I'm afraid that the last one is hardest. You must make a respectable pureblood marriage before you join. You don't know my Death Eaters, and I can tell you that they won't be doing their work with a pretty, available girl in the ranks. So if you agree to the conditions, then my answer will be yes."
I am breathless, and I agree. I then share more of my views, almost identical to his, and I watch with sadness as he leaves. But I will see him again soon. I will be a Death Eater.
I am not even bothered by marriage. True, this will reduce my chances of ever being together with Lord Voldemort, but only a minor setback in a huge task.
Besides, there is a such thing as a divorce.
Hmm . . . Rodulphus Lestrange can't be too bad, can he?
The shortest memory was Narcissa and I, dress shopping for a dreaded occasion, to me anyways.
The wedding was not even there. I don't think I can really remember any of it, except which color the flowers were. Pink.
. . . or were they white?
I think my dress was pretty.
But it could have been boring.
More memories passed, one of the longest being my Death Eater ceremony. More scenes flew by.
And then came another, longer memory.
I could not have expected the immense wave of shock and sorrow that came from it.
Bellatrix is twenty-three years old.
"WHAT?" I shriek. "She WHAT? You did WHAT?"
Mother doesn't even bother to face me. "She married the filthy creature. She has ignored our advice to forget about that thing. She would not listen." She pauses, and spins to face me. "She has been disowned."
It can't be happening. It CAN'T be happening. My heart rises in my throat, pounding painfully.
"No." My voice is hoarse. "No! She couldn't, she wouldn't! I told her, you told her, we all told her to forget about Ted Tonks and make a respectable purebl—"
"DON'T say his name, Bellatrix. Don't even dare. Now stop fussing. Your sister is dead to us. She is dead."
"No. No, but . . . Yes, Mother. You're right mother. Of course, you're right."
I walk away, and the salty tears overflowed, despite the fact that I should be strong, not care. She is a blood-traitor. And now she is dead. And I am loyal to the Dark Lord, and to no other.
But she is my baby sister. I've confided in her, hugged her, helped her all her life. And without warning, she leaves. But I am not even angry, and all thoughts of Voldemort leave me completely for the first time since I met him.
I love my 'Meda. Now she is gone.
Mother, Father, not even the Dark Lord can stop what I feel. I love my little sister, and she will always be my sister, even though we haven't gotten along well for quite some time. Even if we believe and support opposite things, nothing can tear the bond of sisters apart. Nothing. We'll always be sisters, even if we must fight each other to death. Always.
I am crying freely. I do not care.
I whimper. "Forever, 'Dromeda."
Tears are forming in my eyes at the present. It surprised me. The promise I had made to my sister and myself had been true, and to this day, the events still upset me. I cried. I had never lost my loneliness since she ran away.
From that moment on, most of my memories were of the Dark Lord, some happy, some sad, all with desperate love. There were few others in between. My mother and father's deaths even went by quickly. I only caught glimpses of their headstones. Towards the end, the memories were only of the Dark Lord. He had truly taken over my life.
I watched every time I had ever been praised or punished as his follower. I saw myself dreaming about him in Azkaban. And he was watching too. The nights of tears after being rejected, staring mournfully at his picture while I cried. Struggling against Ministry officials as they dragged me to my cell and ripped off my locket . . . with a picture of him in it. Yelling, shouting, laughing, screaming, flirting . . . The times I spent at his mansion. The hug. The fight. The kiss. Then all of a sudden, we were forced out of my mind and back into the present. The room spun, and I toppled over on the ground from dizziness, exhaustion, and utter despair. He just stared at me as I silently cried.
"That's why. I LOVE you," I said plainly, as unnecessary as it was. "I always have." Suddenly he launched himself at me with his palm raised in the air. I closed my eyes and readied myself for the impact.
It did not come. I cautiously opened my burning eyes. His hand was inches from my face, stopped in mid-air. He spun around and began to pace.
"I can't punish you for what you feel. But this is out of the question. Acting on your emotions, silly, foolish bitch! What if I do nothing? Nothing, at all! How do I know you won't do this again? I can't punish you for things that should have been kept private!"
He stopped, staring into space. "But I CAN punish you for acting the way you did."
He turned to face me.
"So, Bellatrix Lestrange," he said, putting an emphasis on my much hated last name, "you love me, you say?" His red eyes were slits, and they frightened me, but made me lust for him all the same. "Well, then, I'll just have to offer you some options, since you seem to think you are special. I assure you, my other Death Eaters would not be offered choices.
"Your first option: leave. Just leave. Go from this place, never look at my face again. We'll pretend that we never even met, or even knew who the other was. If you like, I'll even Obliviate all your memories of me.
"Option two: We can just forget about this little incident altogether and things can go back to normal. I'll give you two weeks to go somewhere else. I'm sure your sister will take you in, even if it is only temporary. I'll treat you just like any other servant. You will receive orders and carry them out without any cheek, flirting, or even conversation. There will be no other relationship between us, other than master and servant.
"And finally, the last option, the interesting one: I challenge you Bellatrix Lestrange, though I am certain you will fail. Make me fall in love with you, if you actually think it is possible. You'll either get everything you ever wanted, or lose everything you've ever had." He thought for a moment. My eyes were wide. "I'll give you . . . let's say . . . one month, three dates, and any amount of my own personal money to use. The rules go as followed: I must cooperate with you by going on all the dates, listening to what you say to me, not ignoring you, et cetera. I won't abuse you or hit you, or anything like that. I won't embarrass you in public, or lock you up, or act inappropriately. I'll play fair. That means that you have to, as well. Now Bellatrix, let's make sure we know what that means. What do you think the rules are for you?"
I was shaking like a leaf, but I held my head high and did not allow my voice to waver, despite the fact that fresh tears were still running down my face. "Well, if I were to accept this challenge, I can't abuse you, hit you, embarrass you, put you in danger, act inappropriately, or . . . or . . ." I blushed deep scarlet and mumbled the last phrase. "Or touch you in a bad way or force you to come into my bed."
"Right," he said, unruffled by the awkward rule. "Though I will allow you one kiss, and only one, so choose wisely. I'll give you one month. You will stay in my home with me. You must come on any errands I need to run. No injuring yourself purposely so I have to perform uncomfortable tasks to care for you, no sneaking me love potion in any way, no extra dates or time. You have one month. You can take me wherever you want for the three dates. I will allow you to leave the house without me, but if I am suspicious, I will send a servant to supervise your activities. You can use any amount of my money for anything at any time.
"If you succeed, Bellatrix, which is very unlikely, you will obviously win my love, which is both your goal and reward. You can stay with me forever and rule by my side.
"If you fail, which is much more likely, I will punish you in ways unimaginable. I will cause you physical and mental pain and etch my face into your brain for all eternity. I'll lock you up in a cell and you'll never see the real me again. And if you escape, then I'll lock you in a smaller, darker, damper cell, and send someone to torture you every night of your miserable life.
"So those are the rules you must follow and the consequences you will face if you fail. That is, if you except. You know your choices, Lestrange. If you choose options one or two, and disobey, your punishment will be the same as option three. You have five minutes to pick an option, and it will be your final choice. I'll be back." He glided out of the room.
I was terrified. What terrible choices I had to make!
Option one was an absolute NO. I knew I could never go on living my life without seeing him ever again, even if my memories were Obliviated.
How could I say yes to option two? It seemed the more practical choice, but could I ever live like that, seeing him every day without being able to say anything except "Yes, my lord"?
I would be so stupid to choose option three. It would condemn me to a life of utter misery, despair, and pain. It would be worse than Azkaban, a living hell. I could not win . . . could I?
I did gain his friendship. He can deny it if he wants, but I did. There WAS something there. We cared for each other. I accomplished something that no other had ever accomplished before. But I had done that in about two months. How could I possibly get him to fall in love with me enough so that he wouldn't let me go? In only a month, with no worry or guilt to bring him close to me? Starting back at square one!
None of the options were right, none. If only I could go back to before I was so foolish. But I could not. And now I had a choice to make.
Two or three? TWO OR THREE?
Then it hit me. This was my only chance. If I chose two, I would be sad forever. If I chose three, I might be eternally happy, but would be more likely to be completely miserable.
I rubbed my teary face in my palms. It wasn't fair. I was given only five minutes to determine what the rest of my life would be like.
"Well?" I jumped, uncovering my face. He had already come back. My time was up.
"Time is up. What is your choice?"
I tightly closed my eyes and scrunched my forehead. What could I choose? I had no time.
My face was full of sorrow of my cowardliness as I gave my answer. "I accept."
And there I acted foolishly for a third time that night. The sensible choice would have been two. But I couldn't bear being so close, yet so far from him. So I would risk everything for him.
"I choose three. I accept your challenge."
"Interesting," he said mockingly. "So your love really goes this far. You do realize there is no going back?"
I nodded firmly, determined not to break in front of him. "You are my life. I'd do anything. I can't go back and I can't lose all memories of you. I love you."
He snorted at the word "love".
"I do. You may not understand what love means now, but if I can help it, you will by the end of this month."
"Very well, Lestrange. If that is your choice, then so be it. Tomorrow, I'll treat you the way I've been treating you for the past month, and the challenge will begin."
I slowly leave. He calls out to me before I can go. "By the way, you are very brave but foolish. You will fail. And my love will never be worth what you will sacrifice."
I turned to face him. "But for once, my lord, you are wrong. Your love is worth more than everything in the universe combined is. And I am willing to sacrifice my entire life, for you."
I kissed him lightly on the cheek. He flinched, but did not back away or push me.
"And I can do this," I said, kissing his other cheek, "because the challenge has not yet begun."
I gave him a quick peck on the lips. Then the clock struck twelve.
"Now it has, and I still have my one kiss left. Goodnight, my lord."
"Goodnight, Bellatrix," he replied, with no emotion in his voice.
Back in my room, I threw myself down on the bed and sobbed.
What have you DONE, Bellatrix? Foolish, foolish, FOOLISH woman! All your life will be miserable, after this month of bliss! Don't you see what you have destined yourself to?
I was indeed a foolish woman. Three foolish things in one night.
What have I DONE?
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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 7:28:02 GMT -8
Chapter 10
I woke up the next morning peacefully. The first thing I thought of as I was coming into consciousness was, as always, the warmth of his embrace when he caught me doing magic.
Wait. Oh no.
The kiss. I can picture the dark room with flickering lights, but it is all blurred except for the sensation of our bodies pressed together, the warmth that flows through me, our lips smashed together passionately-
It all comes back to me and I spring up in bed, eyes wide and fearful.
What have I DONE?
Mmm . . . I know what my one kiss is going to be like . . .
FOCUS!
Oh my Merlin, if I want to survive, I had better be the luckiest woman alive.
WHAT HAVE I DONE?
I've just decided my own fate, and it's not a nice one.
Calm, Bellatrix, calm. If you want any chance of winning his heart, sitting here, panicking, isn't going to help.
First, I had to decide what my approach was going to be. What are my priorities? It would probably be easier to win him over by lust. I HAVE spent more than ten years in Azkaban, but some of my old looks remain. I am not as beautiful as I used to be, with my hallowed out cheeks and shadowed eyes, but I am still a very attractive woman, and all men, even dark lords, like attractive women. But that could be a problem down the road. What if he were to decide that it WAS just lust, he did not really love me, and he threw me away? There are many beautiful women in the world; I am not the only one, and certainly not the best.
The best way to win him over is to be myself, just as I was before. I did love him very much, but if he didn't appreciate me for who I was, what was the point? Otherwise, it would be as if he was falling in love with another woman! I needed a good balance. I needed to show him the goodness inside me, and a little on the outside, too.
I knew there was an unspoken rule that I understood as much as he. My goal was not to make him love me. My goal was to make him love me enough to be unable to let me go. It was next to impossible. But I had to try.
The first thing I did was I took a quick shower, did my hair, put on light makeup, and put on a form fitting, but not very revealing dress. It was plain, and black, and with a longer skirt, but it showed off my figure nicely. I finished up quickly and glanced in the mirror one more time. Despite my effort, my hair was still uncontrolled and cascaded wildly down my back, but it would have to do. I brushed one of many stray curls out of my face before giving up and forcing myself to look away. Then, I headed downstairs to the kitchen. If there was one useful thing that my mother ever taught me, it was that the best way to win a man's heart was through his stomach.
I was already formulating mini plans in my head. I would not only cook extremely good food for him, but I would also teach him to make simple things. That way, he would think that I was teaching him to the best of my abilities, but he would feel like he needed me for a truly delicious meal.
There was a golden rule for me to follow during this challenge: to put our whole world out of balance. If I could get him to feel dependent on me, then I could count on winning his heart.
I also had an idea of where to take him for the dates, and I thought that they were pretty good choices.
I started on breakfast, careful not to make much noise, for it was only 5:45 in the morning and I was sure I would not win my lord's affection by waking him up at the brink of dawn. I wrote down a quick list of what I was going to make, then set to work.
I did everything by magic. I had been for a while now, ever since he found out that I was strong enough.
I made pancakes with syrup, bacon, and toast, of course. I also washed some strawberries and made some orange juice, as well. I then hid myself in the corner at the bottom of the stairs to wait for him. It was almost two hours before anything happened, but I did not mind. I had been up bright and early that morning and I had ended up with extra time. I just thought of him. The kiss. The deadly kiss. It would cost me my life but it was worth so much more . . .The first sounds of shuffling woke me from my fantasies. I heard a door slam, water running, and various odd clankings. I could just envision him brushing his teeth, washing his face, taking a shower. . .
Finally the door opened and light footsteps began to descend the long staircase. I lazily Apparated into the kitchen, heating up the food quickly and throwing my hair in front of my face to make it look as if I was just finishing. As he strolled around the corner, I put the food on plates and brought them to the table.
He sat down and even my cheery smile faltered at his glare. I would have to be strong. I would have to be a true woman, worthy to be the Dark Lady.
"Good morning, my love." He merely grunted. I winced at his reaction. That probably wasn't the best way to start the first morning.
"Did you sleep well last night?" I asked, attempting to brighten the mood.
"No," he grumbled and then muttered something that sounded like "because of you."
Definitely NOT the best way to start the first morning.
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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 7:31:02 GMT -8
Chapter 11
"My lord, you did say that you were going to treat me normally—"
"Yes, I know, Bellatrix! Hmph, you just don't understand. It's so frustrating! This could have been avoided! You ruined everything. You have no respect. Yes, I know what I said. I know what I promised. It's just so different," he sighed. "We're in a situation that I would have never dreamed I would be in. Oh, Bellatrix, why couldn't you just stay in line? There would not be any problems. Things could be the way they were before. We would both be satisfied."
"Because," I said simply, "I would never be truly happy. I have loved you all my life and I have barely gotten any love in return. I was frustrated. I am frustrated. And I am at the point where I just need everything or nothing at all. I just need . . . I just need . . . I just need real love. I'm tired of our little half friendship! I want all of you, or none at all. It's like the little piece of you that belongs to me is teasing me, saying, 'Ha ha. He's not really yours.'"
"I just don't understand," he replied, staring furiously down at his toast. I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was trying so hard to figure out what I was saying. "Why would you want that? You know I will never be able to love you. You will live a cursed existence forever. Why are you throwing away your life?"
I sighed and sat down next to him. I just needed him to see what I meant! I took a single finger and tilted his face towards me. I felt my heart beat as a gazed into his scarlet eyes. It was all the reassurance I needed, to know that I was doing this all for a real reason.
"My life is incomplete. It is a half life. You are the other part of me, whether that is what you desire, or not. Without you, I am not whole. And I would rather have nothing than be taunted by my heart's desire for my whole life. Loving you is not enough. I need you to love me, too. Do you get it now?"
He was lost, I could tell. He could just not understand sacrifice, what it felt like to have a person more important to him than the world, than anything else.
"No. It is . . . irrational. That is all. You are being weak."
"It is not a weakness, my lord. Think how many close calls I've had. Think of how many times I've been on the ground, bleeding heavily, almost dead, yet I stood up and continued to fight. I have KILLED while I have been DYING. Why do you think that is? Whom was I defending? Nobody would have bothered to finish off a dying person in a battle. I would not have been considered a threat. I would have been safer on the ground than standing up, wand in hand. But whom was I defending? Not myself, no. You. I was defending you. And it gave me strength. I probably would have died on the ground if it wasn't for you. Loving you gave me strength."
He still had a blank look. Words could not show him what I meant.
"If I cannot tell you, my lord, then let me show you."
I pulled forth a memory from the depths of my mind. He hesitated before reaching out his mind and grabbing it. We were pushed into a long tunnel and then we saw light.
It is just a normal day. A day like any other. I am on guard duty. My lord is sleeping and I am watching him. He is still. There is no sign of life other than his gentle breathing.
But my heart beats out of my chest and passion flows through me. I love him. My skin tingles from just watching him. I wish to pull him into my arms and kiss him. It pains me so much to hold back. I simply reach out a hand and imagine I am touching his face. I am so happy and so sad at once. I get immense joy from just looking at him, but my heart shatters knowing we can never be together. I have a rare emotional moment and sobs shake me as I smile lovingly. I am so mixed up. And this is must be the reason I am insane.
We exited my memories and came back to the present. I realized that I was crying here too. The Bellatrix from that time would have hid her face in her hair and wiped her tears silently, refusing to show weakness or emotion. I was not that Bellatrix anymore. I held my head high, unashamed of my tears. I cried openly and freely, even proudly. I was a new woman.
"I doubt that you understand, even now, but at least you felt it. You felt love when you were inside my memories. Have you ever felt that tug on your heart? I know you have not. The first time you ever felt love was through my memories. What was it like? To experience it for the first time? Does it feel pleasant to you, even though it is not your own love, or do you truly shun every emotion? My lord? . . . Are you okay?"
"Yes. . . no . . . but you . . . HOW?" He had a confused, almost frightened look in his eyes. Still, his voice was strangely calm, even through his stutter. "No – I mean . . . first time?" He seemed to be completely shocked. I couldn't blame him. It was like showering a five-year-old child with complicated high-level arithmancy. "Yes . . . first . . . from you. So different - but . . ." He shook his head. "No, no . . . You know I've never felt it."
I brought my face so close to his that we were almost touching. "Why does it scare you so much? The only thing I've ever seen you fearful of is love."
"And death." He seemed eager to change the subject.
"No. You have conquered death. But in shunning all feeling, your emotions are conquering you. Couldn't you try to love?"
He just stared at me with wide, frightened eyes.
I drew him close and buried my head into his shoulder. He did not move, but stayed rigid. He was still alarmed by the experience, I could tell, so I left the room to let him contemplate the recent events.
I had hoped that the experience would have a positive effect on him, but it seemed that it did not. Maybe if he thought for a while, he would realize that this was what he really needed. He could be a real person at last, and he could truly have everything in the world.
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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 7:37:52 GMT -8
Chapter 12
A few days later, the shock had subsided, both from the incident after the meeting, and from my Lord's first taste of love. We began to talk normally to each other again. The whole affair seemed like just a daze, a strange dream that popped out of nowhere from the depths of our minds. I decided I was ready to take the relationship to a new level. I was ready for the first date.
Of course, I didn't think I was brave, or anything like that. In fact, I was completely terrified. I was NOT ready, not even close, but I had less than a month to get him to love me!
I had kept the date a secret. He only knew that we were going out, not where, or what time. Oh boy, would he be surprised.
I remembered the conversation the night before. My lord had been looking at me strangely and I got a bit annoyed.
"What?" I snapped. "Why the hell are you staring at me like that?"
I was astonished to see his eyes soften with sorrow, especially after that show of obvious disrespect.
"Bellatrix," he said, standing up. "I just wish that things could be different."
"What? That you could love, or feel emotion?"
"No, not necessarily. And you know by now that I DO feel some emotion. But that is beside the point." He hesitated. "I wish that I didn't have to hurt you."
I completely stunned. For once, I couldn't open my big mouth.
"Bellatrix, I DO care about you. Not in the way that you would like, maybe not even as a friend, but I consider you as the person I know the most. I don't WANT your life to be thrown away. I wish you loved someone else."
"Then why don't you just love me?" I whispered. "Why condemn me to a living hell?"
"I can't. I'm the Dark Lord. I'm supposed to be strong, made of steel. I have hid any emotion from all people, other than anger. Except from you. But I have no love, not even to show to you, Bellatrix. I cannot just LOVE all of the sudden. And I do not feel that way about you. I don't want to be with you like that. But Bellatrix, I don't want you to get hurt. I was angry the night I gave you the challenge. I wanted to see you fail. I don't want that anymore. I wish that I had never offered you that choice. I want you to live, to be happy. Just know that. I do care. You are not nothing to me. It's just that I can never feel the way you feel about me."
"Well . . . Thank you, my lord. That gives me . . . comfort to know that I'm not just another servant."
"I do care about the loyalty you have shown towards me. The Dark Lord tries to reward his most faithful. I wish you didn't have to go to waste."
"Thank you," I murmured.
And that was all that was said. I knew that the Dark Lord was barely processing what came out of his head. He was just speaking whatever came to his mind. It was from the heart. It was the true man inside. And I liked it. I liked the faint blush, the awkwardness, the way he twitched his left foot as the stream of words came pouring out from his soul without filtering. It was . . . somewhat CUTE actually, and I never thought I would be able to say that about my lord. He was alluring, handsome, even sexy, but I had never thought of him as cute. And now I could add another reason as to why I adored him so much. In addition, the conversation we had was probably both the shortest, yet most intimate that we had ever had. And he had done most of the talking.
The exchange had led me to the decision. As he abruptly turned and walked out of the room, I shouted without a second thought, "I would like to go with you on the first date tomorrow!"
"Fine with me, Bellatrix!" he replied from two rooms away. I buried my head in my hands in disappointment of my rash choice.
Still, even after hours and hours of worrying in bed that night, I knew that I had made the correct decision. This was the right time to act.
Finally, I had gotten myself to go to sleep from concern over the bags under my eyes if I didn't get some rest.
Today, my lord had been giving me strange looks. I had just acted like it was a completely normal day. He didn't see me preparing anything for the date (although I had), I was wearing very light makeup, and I didn't say anything out of the ordinary. It was seven o' clock at night and we were still sitting at his mansion. He probably thought that I had forgotten. Not a chance. I had everything planned. Finally, I got up and pulled him out of his chair.
"Stay with me," I smiled, and guided him along. We briskly strode out of the house and into the dim light of the darkening sky that was still without a moon. As we reached the small woods ahead, I slowed us down to a stroll and we walked, hand in hand, between the trees, and beneath the canopy of blue, sprinkled with the pricks of stars, just beginning to cut through the heavens.
"We're far enough from the house to Apparate now," he pointed out.
"We're not Apparating," I replied. "It is a short walk to where we we're going."
He snorted, as if walking was the stupidest thing he had ever heard of.
"Don't you wish you could sometimes just walk, like average people? Do things that a so-called 'criminal' can't do?"
There was no response. Only darkness answered me. I smirked, knowing I had hit home on that one.
"This is private, technically still your property. You can do things here that you can't anywhere else."
His hand heated up, and I could see his face flush, even in the dim light. I blushed when I realized how he interpreted that.
"No, my lord, not THOSE kinds of things. I mean things like walking, enjoying time outside, even just looking at the stars."
Surprisingly, I didn't get any cheeky responses, skeptical grunts, or sarcastic comments. Maybe there was much more inside him than he even realized himself.
We arrived at the special place that I had picked out. I had found an enchanting little clearing in the miniature forest. The grass was lush and green and beautiful wildflowers were blooming. I was sure that my lord had never been to this part of his property before, and I was surprised that I could not find a single weed, not even a dandelion.
I found that our destination was actually very warm and I was able to take off my coat. I was wearing a very pretty strapless dress that had caught my eye many years ago, even though it was one of my least favorite colors: white. On that day, though, I had been in a very good mood, and had been feeling like a saint after Cissy completely failed Herbology (she actually got a T!). It was short with quite a few ruffled layers, and it held a clean satin ribbon around the waist, the color of a burning flame. Of course, the thing was actually a bit of a waste, though. It was too dark for the Dark Lord to see my clothes, really.
Back from the mansion, I summoned an old blanket, two worn-out pillows, and a picnic basket. My lord eyed the pillows suspiciously, but said nothing, counting on me to follow the rules. I sat on the blanket and motioned for him to do the same, which he did, although he did so fairly awkwardly.
From the basket, I unpacked a small little cake just for two. As I laid it out in front of us, he realized that I meant for him to take the first slice. As he took the first bite, his eyes widened.
"How do you do it, woman?" he asked.
"You just answered your own question," I replied. He looked at me with confused eyes. "I'm a woman, that's how I do it."
We ate out cake in silence and when we knew that we were both done, I wrapped it up and sent it back to the house.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, my lord looking at me curiously, almost like regarding an interesting child.
"Why did you take me here?"
"Hm?"
"I mean, out of all the places in the world, with any amount of galleons you would need, for any amount of time- WHY HERE? Why are you wasting your opportunities, your resources?"
"Because, my lord, it doesn't matter where I am, or for what amount of time, with or without galleons to spare. As long as I'm with you, I'm completely content." And with that, I kicked of my shoes and wiggled my toes in the grass.
"Yes, but why not be even MORE happy? Why come to a place that we don't even have to Apparate to?
"Why not?"
"Why yes?"
"Because I need you to know, that I don't need your money, your power, your support, even all your time. I'm perfectly joyful to have just you, and not the things you own."
Silence.
I brought the pillows side by side and pulled him down to lie on the ground. We looked up at the now defined stars above.
"You know," I commented suddenly, "most of my family is named after a star in the sky."
"Point some out to me."
"Well hm . . . let's see . . . wow, I am old- it's been ages since I took Astrology . . . oh! There's one! That's Orion right there! Let's see if I can spot another one . . ."
I searched the sky, more aware of the man beside me than he could possibly know.
Unexpectedly, he said, "Bellatrix."
"What?"
"No, I mean the star. The star Bellatrix. You're named after that one, the yellow one, Bellatrix."
"Yes," I murmured. "Bellatrix." I whispered the rest, and I'm not sure he heard it. "I was named after one of the palest stars in the sky. And it just keeps fading. Like me."
"The female warrior," he stated. "It's true, you know. You could out-duel more than half of the men in my army combined. You fight everything. You fight Mudbloods. You fight Blood-traitors. You fight all logic and understanding. You fight the order of the world." He pulled my hair gently. "Stubborn little girl."
"Sounds just like me. I'd be concerned if it didn't."
He laughed softly, the real laugh, the one I had begun to miss.
"Sirius," I growled suddenly. "The filthy little blood traitor. It seems odd that the one who is so untrue is the one who shines the brightest."
"But not necessarily as beautiful as the rest," the Dark Lord pointed out.
"No, don't joke with me. It is the most beautiful in the night sky." I hesitated. "So I will give it a new name."
I pointed my wand at the sky. Short rainbow sparks flew out of it. Most of them vanished quickly, but I sent one traveling all the way up to the star itself.
"SIRIUS. You do not deserve to have such a lowly creature share your name. So now, I will give you a name that deserves all of your splendor. You will now be known as 'The Dark Lord's Star.'"
A soft chuckle came from beside me. "You've disowned your cousin, now, haven't you?"
"I disowned him long ago."
"Of course you did."
I took his hand in mine. Pointing up at the "former-Sirius," I said, "That is yours now. All the things you own has expanded to beyond this planet, even this solar system."
After that, we spoke no more. We looked together at the stars for much longer, and I cannot recall what time it was when the stars became blurred and I gave into sleep.
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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 7:41:24 GMT -8
Chapter 13
When I woke up the next morning, I got a special surprise: my lord was right next to me. During the night, it seemed, he had rolled over all the way next to me. His hand was still in mine, and his head was on my arm. As much as this pleased me, I didn't want him to think I had moved him, so I gingerly pushed him back to his side so that I wouldn't wake him.
I made a light breakfast for the both of us, and then looked at our surroundings. It was a beautiful day. The grass was a vivid green and the sky was bright blue. The sun was warm and cheerful and there was not a cloud in the skies. I became aware of the chirping birds and buzzing insects. It seemed like some odd, out-of-place paradise.
Maybe it was from the successful date, or maybe it was just the lovely day ahead, but I found myself extremely cheerful and childish. I laughed as a butterfly swooped right in front of my face and I began to chase it through the open field, kicking off my shoes and shaking out my hair. The butterfly flew around in circles and landed briefly on my finger before talking off towards the trees. After watching it fly away, I began to skip around in circles again, and I absentmindedly did a little dance, wiggling my toes in the lush, dewy grass.
I was completely mortified when I heard a soft chuckle behind me. He had been watching me! I didn't even turn around, but just stopped, my face bright red.
"Having fun?"
Silence. I did not reply.
"I swear, sometimes it seems that I don't even know who you are. If anyone ever told me that Bellatrix Lestrange went skipping through a field of flowers, I'd tell them to get their eyes checked."
I growled.
"What?" he asked.
"Never mind. It's nothing"
"It's something."
"Fine. It's something you don't need to know."
"What is it? What did I say?" He was right behind me now, "I want to know."
"It's just… I hate my name, okay?"
He stepped in front of me and frowned. "No… not okay. Why don't you like it? I was always under the impression that you liked the name 'Bellatrix.'"
"It's not my first name. It's my last name. Lestrange."
He looked at the ground.
"It's awful. Do you know how many people called Rodulphus and me 'the strange couple' after we were married?"
"It could be a hard thing to deal with."
"But that isn't the real reason."
"What is?"
"I hate having his name. It is a constant reminder of the fact that I belong to him."
"Bella, your husband is dead."
"And has my last name changed?" I retorted.
I ran from him with tears in my eyes. He stood in his place for a moment before pursuing.
He grasped my wrist and pulled me towards him. "Bellatrix!"
I gasped as his bony finger clenched my arm.
"I'm sorry," he whispered and hastily loosened his grip.
"Bella," he said hesitantly, "you don't have to be a Lestrange. Rodulphus is dead." His gaze hardened. "Do not, however, get the wrong idea. I can't make you Mrs. Voldemort if that is what you want."
"My lord, that was never my intent, I swear! I mean, of course I want to be your wife, but I was not suggesting-"
"Of course you weren't, I was just making myself clear. What I am trying to say, Bella, is that death has done you part. You can be Bellatrix Black."
"Toujours Pur," I mumbled.
"What?" he replied.
"Toujours Pur: Always pure. You're right. I am pure of my useless husband now. I am free."
The Dark Lord looked down at the ground. He knew that soon he could be the reason of my everlasting torture. It was very likely that I would not be free for long.
I stepped right up to him. My head was so close to his chest that I could almost hear his heart beating. I looked up at his beautiful face and rested my hand gently on his cheek.
I whispered softly to him, "You know, you don't have to do it. We can be friends if nothing else. You have a connection to me; I can feel it. Whether you love me like a sister, or if you love me like a lover, that I am unsure of. But if there is one thing that I know in this crazy messed up world: you love me. You need me. And without me, you will be lost. So why can't you try to love me? The only people who know about our deal are you and I. We will both be better off if you take back your punishment and let us be together."
The whole time he had avoided looking into my eyes, but now he held my gaze. Our eyes were locked, mine burning with passion and his burning with rage.
He spoke in a dangerously low town, but I was unafraid. When you know that a horrible fate awaits you, you do not hold back. You live life as if each breath will be your last. I stood up tall and did not shy away from his glare.
"And if I took back my word? If I did not give you the punishment that I have promised, what kind of man would I be?"
"A happy one," I replied bravely.
He brought his hand up to my cheek as well and smiled lovingly. My smile matched his, hardly believing what was happening.
"Yes," he whispered, "we could be together . . . forever."
My grin faded. There was something off about this situation. The way he put the emphasis on his last word, the way that his attitude had changed so abruptly, the way his mouth had turned to more of a smirk, and that something was missing in his eyes began to make me realize that something was wrong. Before I knew it, the hand that had been on my cheek seconds before had crept down my neck and was now gripped firmly around my throat.
"I would be weak," he spat. "I would be weak, like you. All full of . . . emotion. Wouldn't that be dreadful?"
"No," I croaked. "You would be a stronger person." He took his hand off my neck, but still glared into my eyes. "Emotions make you strong. And being with people makes you strong. Sometimes you need to help them. Like you helped me; like how you saved me. But someday, they are going to help you. You never know. Someday, I may save you."
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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 7:44:43 GMT -8
Chapter 14
Dreadful weather this is, I thought as more rain splattered on the hood of my cloak. The beautiful weather that had seemed like a paradise only one week ago had turned around. I glanced around me as my heels clicked eerily on the pavement below. The gray sky and thick fog made me uneasy and I stayed hidden in the shadows as I rushed to the mansion that I had just spotted through the haze. I scurried up the front steps and knocked on the door, flinching as the sound rang much too loudly through the silent, still air. A pair of cautious eyes peered through the little window and widened as they saw me. There were several clicks and jingles as the locks on the heavy wooden door were undone and Narcissa hurried me into the house.
"Bellatrix, darling, what are you doing out in the rain? You must be freezing! Quick, sit down by the fire and let me get you something to drink." Narcissa scuttled out of the room and I heard muffled whispers. She returned and took my coat, offering me blankets and shit, like my mother would. Gosh, I love Cissy so much, but she really knows how to annoy me. On a normal day, I would probably scold my sister for making a big, stupid fuss, but today, I needed the best advice I could get from her, and the best way to get advice, is to make the person giving it happy.
"Now, Bella, I've just told Maple to fetch some Butterbeers; you need to warm up."
"Maple?" I inquired.
"Our new house elf. We got her to replace Ore, who died recently. And Ore came after Dobby was set free. Maybe you remember him? It's been more that fifteen years since you last saw him, so I doubt it . . ." Narcissa trailed off as a pathetic creature wearing the ugliest rags I have ever seen brought in two large, steaming mugs of caramel-colored liquid. I took a mug from the elf and Narcissa took the other, kindly thanking it. She looked pointedly at me.
"Er . . . thanks, elf."
Narcissa rolled her eyes but did not press further as the filthy beast walked out. I took a sip from my mug, but even the Butterbeer could not warm my heavy heart.
"Bellatrix, I thought you were still recovering. The Dark Lord said you were."
"I am."
"I'm sorry that I did not come to visit and take care of you, but the Dark Lord said that you needed a peaceful environment and that he had it all under control. That's why you're here isn't it? Bella, I'm so sorry . . ."
"Cissy, calm down. That is not why I came. And although I missed you, I'm not the least bit upset." There was an awkward silence and we both took sips of our Butterbeer. "So, uh . . . how are you? And Draco?"
Cissy leaned closer. "We are both fine, Bella, but I know you have a reason for being here. Why did you come? Did he send you?" She had a worried look in her eye. "Is it about Draco?" she whispered.
"No, Cissy, everything is okay." She slumped back into her seat, relieved. "But you are right, I do have a purpose in coming here. I need your advice."
"My advice?" Narcissa was surprised. "You have never asked for advice from me. Bella, what have you gotten yourself into? It must be something serious."
"No!" I snapped. She shrank away. "No, Narcissa, I'm sorry. There's nothing. Actually . . . well, yes, it's very serious. I don't just want advice. I depend on it."
"What do you need?" she asked. "What's wrong?"
I took a deep breath. There was no way out now. I had just admitted to my little sister that I needed her help.
"I need to know . . . how to make a man fall in love with me. And I don't mean with a potion. I mean to make him really fall in love."
"Why do you need to know this? And who are you trying to make fall in love?" she asked warily.
"Unfortunately, I am bound to not answer either of those questions. But Cissy, it's basically a matter of life or death. I need you to answer me."
She shivered. "What about Rodulphus?"
"Roddy is dead."
"It is disloyal to him, Bella. He fought to the end with you. Do not forget that you are Bellatrix Lestrange."
"No, Cissy, I'm Bellatrix Black once again."
She gasped.
"Narcissa, please I need this. How did you and Lucius fall in love? I know every spell, potion, and charm, but I admit I know nothing about love! Every attempt I've made has been brushed away! He does not feel or care! I need you, Narcissa! If you do not help me, this may very well be the last time we meet!"
She sat there, frozen, stunned by my desperate rant. Then her eyes widened.
"Oh, no. He's the one. You've gotten yourself into something horrible. It's the Dark Lord, isn't it?"
"Cissy, please-" By now we were both standing.
"No, Bellatrix, I'm sorry, but I cannot help you. I loved my brother-in-law and now you disrespect him. And I cannot get involved with business with the Dark Lord. If he were to find out about this plot, what would happen to us? He could hurt Draco!"
My heart sank. I was a Death Eater. I was cruel. I would have no problem with bringing Narcissa and Draco down; I would feel no guilt. But I was not so unfeeling to not understand. Narcissa was brave. She would risk herself. But not her son. She would not put precious Draco in danger. And there was nothing I could say to that.
"I'm sorry that you cannot help me, Narcissa." I moved towards her and she flinched away.
"I will not harm you," I assured. She let me give her a quick hug. "I only want to say goodbye, because I doubt I will ever see you again."
She let me to the door and that was that. My only hope of help had vanished.
She slowly closed the door, and when it was open just a crack, she whispered, "I'm sorry, dear sister that I can offer no help. I wish you luck." Then it shut with an echoing bang and once more, I was out in the eerie cold.
Those last words, though, were the most help that Narcissa had given me in our entire lives. Her words sparked something inside. The light bulb was lit and a crazy thought struck me. It was insane. And it all depended on her reaction. If she didn't kill me first.
I had told the Dark Lord I was going to visit my sister. I had not, however, specified which one.
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Post by darkpiratenellie on Jul 9, 2011 7:47:07 GMT -8
Chapter 15
I stared at my hand. Could I do it? No . . . I brought my hand away from the painted wood. I didn't have a choice. I brought my pale fingers back up. This was perhaps the hardest choice I would ever have to make. My fist went up and down with my rapidly changing mind. A few times I walked away. Finally, I got the courage to knock on the door.
"Hello?" asked the woman in the doorway cautiously. She could not see my face, but I could see hers, and it seemed like I was looking in a mirror. It was incredible that two girls who looked so alike could be so different in personality. I could not believe that I was actually seeing her again. "May I help you?" My hood was blocking her view of my face. I took a deep breath and let it down. She gasped, eyes wide. "Bellatrix!"
The door slammed shut.
We were standing inside a fairly large room with soft chairs and couches and a fire burning cheerfully in the fireplace.
Andromeda looked at me uncertainly. "Please, Bellatrix, sit."
I did.
She sat down across from me. "So, I trust that you are not here to attack, seeing as your wand is nowhere in sight."
"That is correct," I assured.
She sighed and leaned back a little, relaxing her tense shoulders. "Good. That clears things up. Now, I hope you don't consider this rude, dear sister, but . . . why did you come here?"
"I have no other options. Cissy won't even help me."
"Help you with what?"
I sighed and stood up, pacing a little. My sister's eyes were looking nervously at my twitching fingers. I wasn't trying to be threatening. It was just a habit.
"Andromeda, you must promise to tell no one. Nobody can learn of this, or I am doomed, and possibly you as well."
"Bellatrix . . ."
"You must! Please!"
"Does it have anything to do with the war? Because if this could put others in danger, I cannot promise anything."
"No, Andy, It has nothing to do with it. It's just about me . . . and a person."
"Then I suppose that I can promise."
I told her my situation. I'm not quite sure why I did it. It was foolishly dangerous. But there was something about being there. There was something about being with my sister that made me spill everything, little details and all. She listened thoughtfully the whole time, with wide eyes and pale face.
"That is some story."
"Please, 'Meda, tell me." Tears were streaming down my face. "I know nothing of love except what it feels like. Please help me. How did you and Ted fall in love?"
"Bella . . ." She came and sat next to me, draping her arm carefully around my shoulders, just like when we were young. "It'll work out, I promise! If you love him enough, he will love you. Be yourself, and he will love you even more."
"So that's it?" I asked, sniffling. "I just have to love him?"
"Love him with all your heart. If it is meant to be, it'll happen."
"I have limited time."
"I know. But I see it in your eyes. You love him so much. You will get through to him. To me, it sounds like you already started to. Your love is your strongest weapon. Don't try to impress, but just love, and he will love in return."
"Do you think?"
"I know."
She stood and strolled around the room. "It's amazing, Bella, that I'm helping you win the love of the one who I despise the most. But you are desperate. And furthermore, you are my sister."
"You think so?"
"What?"
"Are we still sisters?"
"I . . ."
"What I'm trying to say, Andromeda, is that we haven't been acting like sisters for many years."
"That's true."
"But I think we still are."
"That may be true, as well, Bella."
"I'm sorry for anything I've done."
"Me, too."
"I know we fight on opposite sides, but I still want to be your sister."
"And I want to be your sister, too."
"Thank you for everything."
"Good luck."
We gave each other a hug and next thing I knew, I was out in the cold and fog again. But this time, the cold wasn't as chilling as before and the fog was less gloomy. I was glad that I had seen my sister, for more reasons than one.
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