Name: Some Remain So

Author: TechnicolourGrey

Rating: M – swearing, no doubt there will be violence and smut.

Disclaimer: I understand and acknowledge that J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury and WB own everything. This is not for commercial or money-making purposes. I just wish I do own it.

For the inspiration for this fic, I have to thank (or blame, I'm not sure yet) FanFicFan99, who suggested a story about Bellatrix and Voldemort. The idea has consequently haunted me for a fairly long time, and this is the result. I suppose this is something new, a little experimental, from me.

I hope you enjoy.~

We are all born mad.

Some remain so.

- Samuel Beckett

"I hate to say it – I know she's my wife's sister – but I always thought there was something a little strange about her."

The listener laughed bitterly, breathing out a plume of acrid smoke and running a hand through his dark, damp hair. He allowed his arm to fall onto the appropriate rest of the chair, cigar held loosely between his fingers. "Yeah, me too. Even when we first met."

The first speaker let out a soft, "Hm," of acknowledgement, swirling his glass of firewhiskey languidly in his hand.

Rain lashed against the windows of Malfoy manor from behind the thick scarlet curtains. Violent gusts of wind struck the panes like a leaping viper, demanding entrance and howling when it was not bidden. A quiet rumble of thunder burbled in the distance, the promise of an encroaching storm, prowling towards the grand house with all of its fury.

However, the two men and one cat sitting – or sprawling – in the comfort of the drawing room inside Malfoy manor paid no heed to the tempest raging outside. A fire was burning in the open hearth, blazing bright blue for an especially warming sensation which was appreciated by the shivering man sitting nearest to it, and for the cat which was stretched out on the Persian rug in front of the hearth, taking advantage of the blissful heat. Still wet, the man leant closer to the flames, raising the cigar to his lips again to take another deep drag.

The other and considerably drier human, the master of the house, whose own cigar seemed to be forgotten in his fingers, raised his head. With watchful eyes he surveyed the face covered by dark hair wetted to his cheeks, who was leaning still closer to the fire.

"It was in school, am I correct? If I recall, it was actually when she set your trousers on fire in transfiguration during the first lesson," the blond pondered, brow furrowing as he tried to cast his mind back far enough to possibly envisage said transfiguration lesson.

The other man's eyebrows rose, almost becoming consumed by the mop of curly dark hair which leaked over his forehead. Though his eyes remained drawn and dark a smile twitched at the man's lips, clearly remembering the incident as a particularly funny one. "You still livin' under a rock, Lucius? No, you dolt. I first met her at a garden party."

Lucius' brow furrowed. "Well, I am quite sorry that I don't remember your entire life, Rodolphus."

"Well, p'r'aps you should," the man retorted, though his usual playful tone had returned to his voice, "You're practically my secretary, after all."

"I will call you an acquaintance in public, and maybe stretch to close companion in private, but I shall never be your personal assistant, Rodolphus," Lucius replied, though his lips too had began to twitch with the hint of a smirk.

"Ah ah ah, that's Mr. Lestrange to you. And get me a pumpkin juice, wouldja, Luci?"

"If I had a wand on me you'd be cursed straight out my house by now."

Rodolphus snorted. "Is that how you treat guests lookin' for your help?"

"It is how I treat guests who stand outside my house in the pouring rain at some ungodly hour," Lucius sighed, "You could have at least given me more warning, you know. Then I may look at least a little more respectable."

"It's fine," grinned Rodolphus, "I think you look rather fetching in your dressing gown and slippers."

Lucius stared hard at him. "Oh, how I wish I had picked up my wand on the way down here."

Rodolphus laughed humourlessly, and a just as mirthless expression returned to his face. "Yeah, well," he murmured, staring wistfully into the fire, "I haven't got nowhere else to go, have I? Rabastan wouldn't understand." He met Lucius' eyes and knew that the look in his face, the tone in his voice, was one of desperation which he couldn't fight. "I'm sorry I woke you so early, Lucius, and I'm sorry I woke Narcissa, but… I just need a night away from home." He paused. "Away from her." He sighed, leant forwards in the chair and buried his head in his hands.

Lucius watched Rodolpuhs for a few seconds, not quite knowing what to do. Awkwardly, he began with, "You must be mad, Rodolphus. To wake Narcissa up would take a lot more than hammering on the door in the middle of the night." When the reply was only a grunt, he snapped his fingers, being rewarded with a similar crack as the house-elf apparated instantly in front of him.

"Y-yes, Master?" it squeaked, teetering on the spot, eyes wide and bloodshot from the lack of sleep.

"Dobby, get Mr. Lestrange a drink. Something strong, from the cellar, I think."

The house-elf nodded and, with a snap, disapparated. Before anything else could be said between the two men, it reappeared with a large bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses clutched in its tiny hands. It set them down on the floor and, with a single finger, guided the cork from the bottle and poured a tiny amount of the whiskey into one glass, offering it up to Lucius.

Boredly, Lucius set the half-full glass in his hand down on the dark mahogany of his desk and took the proffered drink. He raised it to his lips, taking a moment to consider the strong, dark liquid. A moment passed before he curtly nodded his approval, and the house-elf took to guiding the bottle to fill the two glasses.

"Cheers, Lucius," Rodolphus murmured sullenly, taking the drink offered by the house-elf when it tapped the glass against his fingers. He straightened up in the chair, sinking back into the leather and placing the cigar back in his mouth where it remained, clenched between his teeth.

"Mm," the master of the house nodded, waving his hand holding his own abandoned cigar once and raising the full glass to his lips. He took in a long gulp, swallowed hard and took in a deep breath. "Leave us, Dobby," he ordered, waiting for the usual crack before leaning towards Rodolphus. "So, what's going on, hm? You've already said that she's acting strangely, but you have neglected to mention how."

Rodolphus cast Lucius a mirthless smile. "You already know, Lucius. We both know. And we've always known it'd happen."

Lucius kept his gaze even, betraying nothing. "I'm afraid I'm unsure what you mean."

"It's him, Lucius," was the simple reply.

The blond's brow furrowed. He raised his head and glanced over his shoulder, as though to make sure no one was listening. Upon finding the drawing room deserted, empty save for the sound of pounding rain upon the windows, Lucius returned his attention to Rodolphus. "Who?" he inquired levelly, quite clearly feigning ignorance, for he already knew the answer.

"Him," replied Rodolphus impatiently, pulling the left sleeve of his robes up to the elbow. The Dark Mark seared boldly against the man's pale skin, which once seemed fairly tanned when he was standing next to Lucius Malfoy.

The blond deduced that his arms had not seen sunlight for a fair few years.

"What of him?" Lucius asked softly. He kept his head raised and his teeth gritted, as though warning Rodolphus to watch his tongue.

He, however, didn't seem to pick up the signal: "He's made her change. He's taken her over. He's sent her insane, Lucius. He's finally made her mad, and I don't know how to get her back, and I ha-"

"Rodolphus, stop," Lucius interrupted sharply, raising a hand to silence him. "You know that everything is heard by the Dark Lord. Somehow."

"I want him to hear, Lucius," snapped the dark-haired man, irritably shoving his sleeve back down and returning his cigar between his fingers, "I want him to take this curse off of her!" Seemingly unable to utter anymore, Rodolphus slumped back into the chair and resumed looking exhausted and withdrawn, his dark eyes set in staring at a shard of wood in the fireplace. "I never wanted this, Lucius."

Silence descended upon the two men. The dark-furred Chartreux cat, having woken up at Rodolphus' raised voice, leisurely rolled onto its front and stood up, purring and approaching Rodolphus' lap expectantly. Before the man could even compose himself the cat had leapt up and was quite busy clawing his legs into a more comfortable bed.

"Hey, Helios," Rodolphus murmured, his lips twitching as he stroked behind the cat's ear, earning a throaty purr in response.

"That infernal cat," Lucius muttered, though with more fondness than he would ever dare admit to himself, "Doesn't go anywhere where Narcissa cannot be found, unless there is the promise of attention."

"I know someone else like that," Rodolphus whispered down to the cat.

A pause. "What was that?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing."

For a few moments both men seemed entranced as Helios stretched and turned a full circle on Rodolphus' lap, finally coming to a stop and curling up into a tight, purring ball. "I miss him from school," Rodolphus admitted sheepishly, motioning down to the mass of fur, "Teachin' him to fetch butterbeer corks and bring them back. Keepin' him down in the common room while you and Cissa went and… Well, yes." He averted his gaze at Lucius' expression. "They were good times, y'know. Easy times."

A small smile crossed Lucius' face. "Indeed they were." He sighed, finally raised his cigar to his mouth and breathed in deeply. "Indeed they were," he repeated, before breathing out. "I must say the time in which you put itching power on Slughorn's crystallised pineapple was quite a highlight."

Rodolphus snorted with mirth, but it had soon once again disappeared. "Yeah," he agreed, smiling wistfully. He stared down into the dark liquid in his hand, swirling it around absently. With a sigh, he brought it to his lips and tilted his head back, allowing the whiskey to rush into his throat. Within three gulps, he had drained the glass; he raised his head and gasped, wincing at the burning at the back of his mouth.

"I did say it was something strong," Lucius muttered, rolling his eyes and motioning to the bottle left on the floor by the house-elf. "Do help yourself to more, won't you?"

"Ta," Rodolphus spluttered, earning a reproachful glare from the cat upon his lap.

Another awkward silence set in between the two men, save for the cat purring upon Rodolphus' lap when it had finished hating the man for moving. They listened intently to the sound of the rain, thinking of whether to bring it up as a topic of conversation simply to avoid the deafening quiet between them. Neither did, however, and they settled into their own thoughts, staring into their empty glasses.

After a long while, Rodolphus was the first to speak: "It was at her family's place," he murmured wistfully, quietly.

Lucius' brow furrowed, but he remained quiet, waiting for the other to continue. When he didn't, Lucius inquired, "What are you talking about?"

"The place we first met," Rodolphus nodded, as though it was the most obvious thing, "A garden party at Grimmauld Place. I think it was to celebrate Cissa's birth. I remember Druella carryin' a baby around a lot, and I'm sure Dromeda was there, already. Oh, c'mon," he added, when Lucius bristled at the name, "Get over it. This was before everyone knew she was a blood traitor and all. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was for Cissa."

Lucius frowned, taking in another breath of his cigar. "Neither you or Narcissa have ever told me that you were at the celebration of her birth."

"Well, she was literally a babe in arms, Luci," Rodolphus smirked, "If she remembers anything about it it's a miracle. And I didn't think it ever really mattered enough to bring it up in conversation. Mine and the Rosier family go back pretty far, so, y'know. But anyway, stop interrupting."

Struggling to keep as still as possible so not to disturb Helios, Rodolphus reached into his robes and pulled out his wand, pointing it at the bottle of whiskey on the floor. Carefully, he directed it to fill his glass as well as Lucius'.

"So, yeah," the dark-haired man continued after taking a smaller gulp from the refilled glass, "You know how dreary the house is, but the garden is alright, y'know, and they really spruced it up. Well, Druella did. There was a lot of Rosier there. Faeries everywhere, those little white flowers sprouting up around the garden, the works. I'm pretty sure ol' Cygnus wouldn't have wanted that, but then again I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have wanted it at all, huh?"

"No," Lucius agreed, "He always wanted a son. I'm sure if it was up to him he would have kept his third daughter a secret."

"Yeah, well, she wasn't no secret. Dressed up to the nines, she was. Looked like a bloody cloud. But yeah, that's where I first saw her. Bellatrix." He stared down into his firewhiskey, swallowing hard. "She was kneelin' down by the fish pond at the end of the garden. All on her own, she was. It was strange. Dromeda was running around screamin' for attention or rebellion or whatever it was, while she just stayed there, staring down into the pond. Everyone seemed to be ignorin' her. I thought then that she was a little bit strange, but I went over to talk to her anyway.

"'What're you doing?' I asked her. She didn't answer me for ages. Just stared up at me with these wide eyes. She looked the complete opposite to her sister even then, y'know. This black dress with no ruffles whatsoever. I think she was barefoot, too, but my I might be mistaken. I was just about, what, four? But yeah, anyway, she eventually spoke, and told me that she was watching the fish. I looked down and couldn't see any fish." He smirked softly. "I'm pretty sure you can guess what happened. I lean down, looking for these fish, and she pushes me in. Doesn't even get up – just grabs the collar of my shirt and drags me down. No warning, nothing, just straight in. Absolutely soaking, I was. Had to sit near a fire, shivering, for the rest of the day."

Lucius smirked, shaking his head. "So this is not the first time you have been drenched because of Bellatrix Black. How interesting. And then you didn't see each other until Hogwarts?"

Rodolphus shook his head. "Nope. But I've never forgotten it. I always wanted to hate her for it, but…" He shrugged, lifting his hand holding his glass and twisting it to show Lucius his wedding band. "We all know what happened, huh?"

"Indeed. Strange how things turn out, is it not?"

"Yeah. Like, I never liked you, either. Thought you were a pretentious twat. Still think you are, t'be honest."

Lucius inclined his head, one side of his lips twitching. "As you remind me of all too often."

Again, Rodolphus smiled, but it was short lived. "It's changed now though, Lucius. She's not just strange. She's insane. Actually insane."

Lucius took in a deep breath, stubbed out his cigar and rested it on the edge of his desk. He took a gulp from his glass, and nodded. "Tell me how, Rodolphus. Tell me everything."

Rodolphus breathed out a humourless laugh. "It'll take a while."

"I have all night."

Rodolphus considered this. He nodded slowly, stubbing out his own cigar and leaving it on the arm of his chair, using his free hand to meditatively stroke Helios, from head to tail. "Alright," he conceded. "Alright. I guess I should begin where it all started, huh?"

"It's a good place to begin, indeed."

Once again, Rodolphus nodded. He took a deep breath.