August 14, 1970
The words from dinner were still burning in her pale ears.
How dare he. How dare he!
Upstairs in her bedroom, she had already broken two mirrors. The shattered glass lay strewn about the hardwood bedroom floor. It reflected the elegant furniture, thick curtains, and stacks of books. In the months she had been here, she did her best to make it as much like her old room as possible. The mirrors, however, were a gift and as such could be easily destroyed.
The grip on her wand was so tight that for a moment she was worried she was going to snap it. But instead of easing up, she flung a book into the air, and exploded it mid-flight. The smoldering shreds of parchment scattered over the hardwood floor, and she crushed them with her black boots. Spinning her head around, she could see nothing else she could break and then repair. She threw her wand aside and collapsed on her bed screaming into her satin pillow.
They were having a nice family dinner, the four of them. Cygnus and Rudolphus had business to attend to later that evening, and it had seemed the perfect opportunity for the four to catch up. She had not been particularly thrilled on the idea. Not that she still held a grudge against her parents for the arranged marriage—she had gotten over than in her fourth year of school. She simply felt as though she had nothing to say to them.
Mr. and Mrs. Black had arrived promptly at a quarter past seven, Apparating a few meters away from the small estate. She had greeted her parents politely, and even smiled some when her father remembered to bring the book she had asked for from his library. After throwing the book at an unsuspecting house elf and demanding that it be brought to her room, the four moved to the dining room.
The conversation, much to her surprise, had not been that bad. Her husband and father talked politics while her mother recounted in near-excruciating detail how Cissy took the news of her arranged marriage to the Malfoy boy.
"And of course we can't forget your help in this, Bella dear," her mother had said as the salad course was being cleared away.
Bellatrix nodded. "He has promise. And Cissy seems to like him well enough."
Even though the boy, Lucius Malfoy, had only been in his fourth year when Bellatrix was in her seventh, she had seen enough of him to know he would be good for her sister. He was a strong, even by her standards. And Cissy seemed smitten with him.
From across the table, she met eyes briefly with Rudolphus. She glared and he looked away.
And the conversation had continued through the main course, and it was not until dessert and coffee were half gone that it happened.
"What book did you bring her, Cygnus?" Rudolphus asked, careful not to look at his wife as he did so.
Cygnus drank the last of his coffee, and a house elf scurried to refill it. "Advanced Occlumency, if you can believe it. She's actually quite skilled at it, as well as Legilimency."
The words were a compliment, but she took no pride in them. Recently, her father had felt the need to talk about all of her magical accomplishments like that, using phrases such as 'if you can believe it' and 'surprisingly enough.'
Rudolphus sneaked a look at Bellatrix and saw the small flash of unhappiness on her face. "Oh, I can," he replied with a chuckle. "She's fairly skilled, for a witch."
And there it was.
"Ah yes," her father had agreed, "For a witch."
She could not hold back any longer. "Tell us, Rudolphus," she began, not even flinching as the room became silent. "How's your study of Occlumency going? Oh, that's right, you can't do it."
"Bella!" Druella moved to put a frail hand on her daughter to calm her, but Bellatrix batted it away impatiently.
Her father stood. That had never been a good sign. "Now Bella, you forget your place."
"I'm sorry, father," Bellatrix shot back, standing as well. "I thought my husband's incompetence was a rather well known fact."
Rudolphus remained seated, as did Druella.
In the silence, her father drew his wand. She copied him.
"We've been over this," her father said, keeping his tone steady. But Bellatrix was not listening to his words. Instead, she kept her eyes on his face, the way the muscles around his mouth twitched, and tried to see what was beyond his dark, impenetrable eyes. That was where the Blacks kept their emotions. "You must respect your husband."
"I refuse to give my respect to anyone that does not deserve it."
Their wands were pointed at each other now.
"Now, Cygnus, why don't you just—"
He cut his wife off. "Stay out of this, Druella."
She obeyed.
"He is your husband, which is reason enough for him to deserve your respect." Cygnus moved his wand faintly.
"No!"
That was the only word that she could say before her father cut in.
"Crucio!"
Her agonized cries rang out through the dining room. Her mother sat there. Her husband smirked. Her father kept her under the curse for a full minute. When he finally let go and put his wand back, her face was bright red and soaked with tears.
She lay on the floor where the curse had left her, as her husband said goodbye to her parents. Her father ordered her mother to return home, and the two of them left to attend their business meeting, as her father called it.
And now here she was, lying on her bed and crying some more. They had only been gone five minutes, and already she was here. Taking a deep breath, Bellatrix sat up on the king sized bed and brushed the stray, black locks out of her face. Technically, it was the master bedroom, but when Rudolphus failed to please her on their wedding night, she had cursed him so badly that he now slept solely in the guestroom—that is, when he slept at home. Not that his infidelities bothered her in the slightest. It was not only his lack of magical prowess that did not deserve her respect.
She stood off the bed, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve. Blacks did not cry, and she knew that. But at only twenty one years of age, stuck in a loveless marriage, and still adjusting to her lack of freedom, it was hard not to. From the moment she married Rudolphus seven months ago, her father had adopted him as the son he never had. It did not matter that Rudolphus was ugly as a toad, had magic than a troll, and could never produce an heir—he was a male, and that was what counted.
Her face contorted into a sneer.
"I'll show them," she mumbled to herself. "I'm just as good as any man."
Seven minutes later, she was there. Her black hair was cautiously pulled back under the hooded cloak, so that not even one voluminous strand would escape. She kept the hood low, not that it mattered. Every wizard there, save for one, was hooded just the way she was. And even so, as she approached the ground she stayed in the back, afraid something might give her away.
The location was in a clearing in the woods far north of their estate, a piece of information she had lifted off her husband a week ago using her skill in Legilimency. He had been half drunk at the time, and she had been curious as to where this important business was being held. That, and she never missed a chance to use her ability on her good for nothing husband.
Luckily, she was not the last to arrive. A few more wizards appeared after her, standing around her and illuminated only by the light of the full moon. Bellatrix resisted the urge to tap her foot. A cold breeze picked up, ruffling her robes. What was so important about this meeting in the forest anyway? She had been looking forward to gloating to her husband about her accomplishment, but if this was all it was, it was not worth it.
And then he appeared.
The group bowed when he arrived, and she did so as well. Once up, her eyes grew wide. Even from her view under the cloak, he was impressive. Tall, broad shoulders, pale skin, with a nose that looked slightly squashed down and ears that were just a fraction too small. He had jet black hair, which seemed to be thinning, though he skin was pulled to tight on his face to show any wrinkles. And then there were his eyes, dark as her father's, but with something else as well. Red?
She felt weak at the knees.
Then he began speaking. It did not matter what she said, and for the most part she did not listen to the words. It was the way he said them that got her, the way he sounded so entitled to everything, the sheer power he emanated from his very being. A snake appeared halfway through, fat from the hunt, and curled around the man's foot in an almost caressing way. He spoke then to the snake in Parsletongue, and she felt her heart race.
The meeting, or so it seemed to her, was tragically short. He left them all with a message saying that he would tell them the location of the next meeting soon, and then something about a mark that made no sense to her. With the meeting finished and her heart still racing, Bellatrix walked away to give herself some space to Apparate. If she Apparated right back into the master bedroom, Rudolphus would never know.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around sharply. It was him, the one who had been speaking: Lord Voldemort. He smelled like dried blood and potions ingredients.
"You," he said, speaking in that same commanding voice he had earlier, "Are not one of us."
Everyone save for the two of them and his snake had left now.
Bellatrix said nothing.
"Are you scared?" he asked, smiling at the thought. He kept his hand on her shoulder, as if she was thinking of running away. "A spy from the Ministry, perhaps? Lower your hood."
She obeyed immediately, pulling down the rich, black fabric that had covered her face. In doing so, her rebellious hair bounced free, scattering over her shoulders as well as his hand. "Bellatrix Bl…" she caught herself, still not used to her new surname. "Lestrange. Bellatrix Lestrange."
Voldemort chuckled. He looked into her eyes, and before she could pull herself away from his black and red eyes, she felt the attack on her mind. Quickly, she put up a barrier, but he swiftly knocked through her Occlumency. The invasive feeling of a stranger in her memories made her bite her lip. He was not only invasive, but thorough. Memories from her childhood to the evening's dinner flashed in her mind, all for Voldemort to see.
After what seemed like an eternity of her most painful and humiliating memories, he let her go. She took a step back, but did not fall.
He took his hand off her shoulder, letting it linger for a moment in the black tendrils. "So you are the hellcat Rudolphus has told us about—the one who scared the man out of his own bedroom. Answer me!"
"Yes sir," she said quickly, her tongue falling over the simple words.
Voldemort chuckled again. "Not sir. My lord will be fine. You have a great rage in you, Bellatrix Black Lestrange. I admire that. And yet you lack loyalty, which I am afraid is something I cannot stand."
"I am loyal," she countered, finding speech easier now, "To those who deserve it."
He struck her hard across her face, and sent her stumbling. "You shall not give me your opinion unless I ask for it."
Recovering, Bellatrix stood straight up, and ignored the trickle of blood coming from her cracked lip. "Yes, my lord."
Voldemort smiled. He reached a pale hand to her face, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand before wiping the blood away with his finger. "Pure, wizard blood," he said, looking at the red droplets on his hand, before he licked it away. "Nothing else should exist. Do you agree?"
"Yes, my lord," she agreed, nodding.
The snake raised up slightly, putting its head right under Voldemort's hand, looking for attention. He patted the snake on the head twice before saying something to it in the mysterious snake language. "I just told Nagini that I will not need you killed tonight. You are to come to the next meeting. You are not to be late, nor are you to tell anyone that about this. Disobey me and I will kill you. I am a man of my word, Bellatrix Black Lestrange."
She said nothing.
"Very good. You learn quickly. You may leave now, little hellcat."
Bellatrix mumbled a quick thank you, Apparating off before she could find out if that was acceptable or not.
And he haunted her dreams ever since.