This is one of many submissions to the Prompt Relay Challenge in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum. For those of you not familiar with the challenge, there are ten stages we have to write for, each stage having anywhere from five to twenty-plus story prompts we must fill before moving onto the next stage.
Stage Six: Marauders Era
Disgusting.
That's all those nasty worm was to her. She couldn't believe he was the best her parents could find to marry her off to. She, a woman of pure beliefs and ambition, from the most ancient and noble House of Black! Bellatrix knew she could have fetched much better. She was smart enough, pretty enough. Every man should be kissing at her feet!
Well…there was the one issue of her inability to act in any way like a pureblood wife. She was not a docile sheep ready to be led to slaughter. She was not content to sit around on her hands in pretty dresses or host stuffy parties. No, Bella was the wolf. And pureblood men feared wolves.
The Lestrange family, despite being one of the so named Sacred Twenty Eight, was nowhere near the caliber of the Black family. Neither of her sisters would ever have been offered to such a house. While still wealthier than most pureblooded families, their lines had become too muddled with incest. Too many brothers marrying their sisters, making their violence and insanity rivaling even that of her house. The family also held little political power as they had no real talent for subtlety. I should be marrying a Malfoy! She thought to herself. Or a Nott! Even a Yaxley would have been acceptable.
But no. Those offers would be saved for Andromeda and Narcissa. The good sisters who would take their men's wishes on their backs. Rasbian will have a rude awaking when he realizes she will not be so submissive. Or was it Rodolphus? She could never keep them straight.
Bellatrix sighed to herself as she picked at the lace on her white gown. It could have been worse. She supposed. If it had gotten out that she was barren as well, the best she could have hoped for was a Crabbe or Goyle. Smirking to herself, she pictured the toads trying to figure out what the word barren even means. Yes, could have been much worse.