"Now he's wrapped around her finger
She's the center of his whole world"
- "All-American Girl"
Carrie Underwood
The morning of May 2, 1960 was a rather unusual one for Slytherin House. Normally at the beginning of May, students would be hard at work in the common room, studying notes from earlier in the year, reading large text books, practicing spells, finishing projects, writing essays, tutoring first years, and other things that would begin to prepare them for their final exams that loomed nearer and nearer as the school year drew to a close. Sixth and seventh year boys would whisper about politics, fourth and fifth year girls would try to get older boys to notice them, friends would braid one another's hair and trade chocolate frog cards and play wizard's chess, couples would plan Hogsmeade trips, young girls would giggle about boys, and first years would discuss how great it would be when they were no longer at the bottom of the totem pole. Quidditch players would gather around a table and a piece of parchment and decide their game plan, for the Slytherin-Hufflepuff Quidditch game was always at the beginning of May.
But this morning was different. No one was working, reading, practicing, writing, tutoring, whispering, giggling, playing, planning or plotting. In fact, hardly anyone was in the Slytherin Common Room or the Slytherin dormitories at all. Textbooks and chess games and chocolate frog cards lay abandoned by their owners, and the fire was dying out.
There were exactly five people left in the Slytherin dormitories: Madame Rosa Ackerman, the Hogwarts school nurse, Irma Black and Mona Rosier both of whom were in their fifties, and sixth year Druella Rosier-Black, who had just given birth to her first child, a little girl. Madame Ackerman had chased all of the other Slytherin students out of the dormitories and common room to maximize Druella's privacy. Now that the birth was over, the nurse returned to the Hospital Wing, leaving the new mother and grandmothers with the baby.
Druella lay on the bed in her dormitory, panting slightly, her blonde hair plastered onto her forehead with sweat, as she clutched her newborn child to her chest. The baby was small, smaller than she had expected. She was certainly lovely. Her wet black spirals stuck up in places, her face was pink, and her large brown eyes stared up at her mother, completely focused on her. Every few minutes the baby would let out a high pitch screech, making Druella and the others jump, but she did not cry.
"Here," said Irma, Druella's mother-in-law. "I knitted this little cap for her, look." She handed the cap to her daughter.
Druella's eyes filled with tears.
The cap was blue.
To any normal new mother, of course the day her child is born would be an emotional one. But for Druella, this day was even more emotional.
Why?
Because she was a failure.
Growing up, Druella was one of eleven children. She was not the oldest or the youngest, the smartest or the prettiest, the funniest or the most well behaved. And she was a girl, on top of that. She was often the forgotten middle child, the plain one, the boring one. Her parents hadn't even bothered to pick a husband for her! If her elder sister, the first wife of Cygnus Black III, hadn't fallen ill and passed away, she probably would've married a Crabbe or a Goyle, or something equally disgusting. But no, she was married to Cygnus Black. The Cygnus Black.
And she had given him a daughter, not a son. No heir. No one to pass on the Black name, no one to uphold the family beliefs and morals.
She was the daughter that had produced a daughter.
She was very lucky to have been given the privilege of marrying into such an important family. Her husband's grandmother, Violetta Black, often said how Druella was not of clean enough blood to marry her eldest grandson. But the wedding had gone on anyways, simply because Cygnus was so in love with Druella's dead sister.
And now Walburga, Cygnus's sister, was going to have her child soon! Oh, and if it was a boy, Cygnus would be so upset. Druella couldn't stand the thought of her arrogant fifteen year old sister-in-law having a son before she did; the boasting would be unbearable.
Druella hung her head, wiping a tear from her eye before it could fall. She had not done what was expected of her. She slid the blue cap onto her daughter's head, covering the pretty little curls, and the child screeched again.
"Well, she certainly has a mouth on her," said Mona disapprovingly. "She sounds like your sister Magnolia."
Druella smiled fondly through her tears. Magnolia was one of her favorite sisters, and she certainly did have a loud mouth. Usually Magnolia and Druella were very close, but now that Druella was a failure, she wasn't sure what her proud pureblooded sister would think of her.
"Don't smile; stand up straight," Mona scolded. Druella sat up taller and the smile slipped from her delicate features.
"Cygnus should be here any moment," said Irma, awkwardly breaking the silence that had filled the room.
Druella choked back another sob. What would Cygnus say?
"Merlin, girl, stop your silly emotional outbursts!" Mona scolded. "You need to control your emotions! Your husband will be here momentarily, didn't you hear? Perhaps you should start thinking of an apology!" She looked in disdain towards the baby, who was now asleep.
Druella, however, didn't have time for thinking of an apology, because seconds later, her husband entered the room.
"Is it a boy?" were the first words that came out of Cygnus's mouth.
"No," all three women said at once. Cygnus's face fell. Irma and Mona exited the dormitory, leaving the couple alone with their new child.
"A girl," he said indifferently, walking over to his wife's bedside.
"Yes, Cygnus, I'm so, so sorry," Druella said softly, protectively clutching the baby closer to her as her husband leaned over to see the baby's face. "I know you wanted a boy."
"Of course I wanted a boy, how can a female be of any use to me?" Cygnus snapped, glaring intensely at his daughter. "You need to provide an heir for the Black family, Druella."
"I know, Cygnus, I will," Druella said confidently, "I will provide an heir."
"Not a firstborn, though, you've already ruined that," he said in a merciless tone.
"Cygnus," Druella said, sounding incredulous, "It's not like I can choose the gender of the baby-"
"Shut up, Druella!" he snapped at her.
The baby woke up and screeched loudly, making both of her parents jump.
"What does that thing want?" Cygnus said harshly.
"Don't call her that!" said Druella. She pulled the baby even closer to her, and the child let out another screech from being squeezed so tightly.
"What should I call her, then?" Cygnus snapped. "Did you pick out a name?"
"No," said Druella, "No, tradition says that the father picks the name of his firstborn child, especially in such an important family -"
"Let me see her," said Cygnus, holding out his arms.
Druella looked horrified at the thought of handing her precious baby girl to her angry, harsh husband, but before she could react, Cygnus had snatched the baby. He held her up to his eye level, staring into her pale little face. She stared back at him, holding his gaze.
"Well, she certainly is a Black," said Cygnus to himself.
Druella glanced at him hopefully. "What makes you say that?"
"Do you see her, Druella? She looks nothing like you Rosiers," - for all of the Rosiers had straight dirty-blonde hair, delicate features, blue eyes and pale skin with freckles, Druella being no exception - "Sharp elbows, sharp nose, dark eyes, dark hair, high cheekbones. God, Dru, look at her jaw! She looks like Walburga without the snobby expression. Very aristocratic."
Druella smiled, realizing that Cygnus was already warming up to the child. "She does, doesn't she?"
"Her name will be... Bellatrix."
"Bellatrix?"
"It's a 20 million year old star, 8.4 times the size of the sun. It's Bayer designation is Gamma Orionis; it is the third brightest star in the constellation Orion, the twenty-seventh brightest in the sky."
Druella looked unimpressed. The Blacks were all very fascinated with astronomy, while most members of the Rosier family were named after their ancestors or flowers or royalty in fairytales and myths. But that was the outcome of the small difference in the purity of their blood. Rosiers were slightly less pure, so they named their children after royalty. Blacks were so pure, they named their children after the stars because they were above everyone and everything else.
"It means 'Beautiful female warrior.'"
Druella raised her eyebrows. "Warrior? What makes you think she'll-"
Bellatrix chose this exact moment to let out another high-pitched screech and to begin kicking her legs furiously, demanding her father's attention.
Cygnus chuckled. "A warrior, indeed," he said, pulling the baby closer to him and rocking her gently. She gave him a look that was a semblance of a smile. "And definitely a Black through and through."
"You're not too upset with me, are you?" Druella asked worriedly.
"No," said Cygnus, "I suppose not. It's not really your fault. After all, when our son is born, he will be the heir regardless of the gender of Walburga's child. And besides, it's not like you can choose the gender of the baby."
The last thing that Druella saw before drifting off to sleep moments later was her husband whispering gently to the little baby, who stared up at her father with wide eyes, her little hand wrapped around his finger.
