Author's note: I decided to make this story T now, but it has tendency to become M - if it, eventually does, the ratings will be changed and I will post warnings. I will also try to post trigger warning, but tell me if I miss something. Comments of any kind are welcome!

LovelyWeather is my lovely Beta once again!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or many of the characters, they are property of J. K. Rowling. The title is property of Florence + The Machine. The song lyrics is, as stated, property of AURORA.

I had a dream I was seven, climbing my way in a tree. I saw a piece of heaven waiting, impatient, for me

Aurora - 'Runaway'

One must realize that I was happy. Why wouldn't I be? I had it all!

There are very clear pictures of my early childhood in my mind - our huge French manor rounded with a beautiful garden; the drawing hall, all in glass and silver; the smell of the best elf-made wine; me in pretty dresses, surrounded by toys, always at least a house elf taking care of me.

Our house was always alive with chatter and laughter; many people were passing through it and all of them loved me. "What a dear girl you are! You will grow up to be as beautiful as your mother!" they would say and I would glow with pride - I knew that my mother must have been the most beautiful woman on earth. She was tall, with shiny heavy waves of black hair, dressed in the best robes, her head always high. She was the queen of our castle. I was a princess, papa's girl, maman's honor. "Let us hope she'll have her power as well!" Papa would laugh in a warm, rich voice, looking at maman from the corner of the eye. Everyone knew how powerful my mother was and I wanted to be just like her - beautiful and dangerous, proud and noble.

In my memories there is always the presence of him. I had never met him, but I knew that he represented all the wonders we had. When people would gather in our drawing room for the meetings I was allowed to attend, they would all cheer for his health. "To the Dark Lord!" someone would say and all the glasses would rise. In my head I'd created a wonderful and mighty figure of someone who must be the greatest wizard in the world - and it was my family that personally knew him! "Be a good girl, Lollia. He's here," mother would say sometimes and I would immediately behave, hoping that was the day I'd get to meet him.

"Now, you must be good and train hard before that. But you will, won't you? You will be the best, the strongest proud witch, carrying our noble family tradition."

When you are little, they tell you the tales of rich lands, beautiful and intelligent witches and great wizards that try to conquer the death. I did not need those stories. I was a beautiful witch of my own rich land and I knew that a great wizard would conquer death, making our family the most influential and praised in the Wizarding world.

And then, on my fourth birthday, he was gone and everything I knew crumbled, at once, with no return.

Months after my birthday, when they stormed in screaming that he vanished, Lin and I were alone, although today I realize that we couldn't have been. There was always someone looking after us before they left at night, so there must have been at least a house elf; no one in their right mind would leave a four-year-old with couple of months old baby.

We had already fled our beautiful manor a long time ago, settling in the summer cottage near the sea. They never let me out anymore, but they were constantly going somewhere, never telling me where. I was little, but in my head I connected all the bad things happening to us with the Dark Lord's disappearance - it took me years to realize it was other way around.

Lin (or rather Marcelina, as I called her at the time) was crying and I was helpless. "Please stop… please stop crying… please, please stop..." I was muttering, like a mantra, over and over again, on the edge of tears myself. I started violently shaking the baby, but it made things worse. Finally, all four of them apparated, slightly messier than when they had left. "Please make her stop!" I screamed at once, but mother did not seem to notice me; for weeks she didn't.

'How could they not know?' roared father, throwing a chair on the floor.

'I was sure they must know something,' mother said, displeased but not as angry. She saet down, deaf for Marcelina's crying.

Uncle Barty was with them again, but he did not look well. They were all shaken, obviously, but he was a nervous wreck, walking around in circles, his freckled face pale. Finally, he came over and grabbed Marcelina from my hands. 'Do something!' he shouted to mother, desperately, 'If they find us… because of her…'

Mother clicked her tongue and flicked wand; Marcelina stopped making a sound, but she was still opening her mouth in silent cries, red in face. 'They won't find us because of a crying baby, don't be ridiculous, Crouch. Are you scared?' she added, her voice lighter now and almost mocking.

'And you aren't?' he cried out, putting Marcelina in my hands again, as if I was a piece of furniture. It crossed my mind that maybe I was turning invisible, maybe I was slowly disappearing without knowing it. 'They will know… Ministry must know… By now… They are after us…' he could not finish the any of the thoughts and he was shaking violently.

'How can they know?' father turned around to look at him, 'Who would tell them? Those two?'

There was a brief moment of utter silence and then mother started giggling. Uncle Rabastan and father followed, and the shared giggle turned into a monstrous laughter. 'Oh, did you see them? Did you see them? Crying on the floor… Begging… Stupid prude Aurors, always doing by the book, too good even to properly fight back… As if their light magic can do something against the unforgivables!' mother said through the laughter. She looked more alive than she did in weeks and her face was glowing; yet it was not an expression of happiness, but rather one resembling fire. She was different, I noticed. There were dark circles around her eyes and her smile was twisted; she was showing all of her teeth.

When he stopped laughing, uncle Rabastan leaned on the wall, lighting a cigarette. 'I must admit, it was enormous fun, despite of everything. Like a celebration of good old times.'

'Do you have to smoke in front of the children?' mother asked. He shrugged and no one said anything on the matter of cigarettes anymore. It would not have passed before, I knew - mother was strict about uncle's smoking habits. 'Now, we must really think about this - who could know something more? Someone else from the Order, probably-'

'Are we going to run?' Barty interrupted, and all three of them looked at him as if they forgot he was in the room. He seemed absolutely frantic now.

'Run where?' mother lazily asked, 'And why, Crouch? If you are afraid of your dear father then you shouldn't have-'

'I am NOT afraid!' he shrieked. He straightened up, trying to look brave, but he looked silly and I would probably have laughed if Marcelina was not shaking with silent screams in my hands.

'Then show it!' mother stood up, 'Stop being a mess and show it, dammit! I will not run. I am not ashamed or embarrassed like other cowards…'

'I am NOT a coward! I joined you!'

'And now you want to run? To abandon the Dark Lord?'

'I do not! I just want…' his voice was lower now as he tried to even his breaths, 'We can't find him if we're imprisoned. Do you realize what we can lose?'

Mother laughed ruthlessly, 'What you are trying to say is that you can lose so much, darling boy?'

'You- You have two children…' he breathed out, his words sharp as a knife.

There was a small pause as they faced each other – a small frightened boy and a powerful dark witch, mad with the taste of revenge. 'I will not run,' she repeated, 'If we find him, it will be the best I can do for future of my daughters. And if I die trying, my daughters will know how to appreciate that.'

I let out a high moan, nearly throwing Marcelina on the chair, and ran over to her. I was crying, 'Don't die, maman, don't die, don't die!' I wanted her to pick me up, to stroke my hair and say it would all be fine. Yet, she just put a hand my head as a form of gratitude.

'I am not planning on that, Lollia,' she said, still eyeing the freckled young wizard. 'Now don't wail, only dull people do that,' she said in a voice that made me think she would push me away if I make another sound. 'It is late, why are you even still up? Go to sleep, come on!'

Uncle Rabastan finished his cigarette, picked Marcelina up, lightly rocking her, and took my arm. 'Come on, lets go,' he softly pulled me as I was still letting out soft cries and took me to another room. As we went out, Barty said, 'Bellatrix, if we want to find Dark Lord we must stay out of Azkaban, it is simple', but I did not manage to hear the rest of the argument.

Barty stayed with us; he was not happy, but he had no choice. However, he did not have to wait long for his fears to come true. It was merely a week after that when our protective charms broke down and the Ministry people ran into the house one rainy night as we slept, taking us by surprise. You don't know what terror it is for a four-year-old to have unknown wizards barge into her home in the night, throwing curses all around, taking her parents away. I still sleep with my wand by my side, very lightly, waking at the smallest of sounds.

Barty screamed and wailed, begging for mercy. Dad tried to fight for a moment but, taken off guard, he was not in his full power for the fight ‒ with three Aurors against him, he was taken down quickly. But mother tried neither to run and hide us, nor fight. Her mere defense was when she spit in the face of an Auror. He screamed at her that she was a crazy hag and pointed a wand at her, and I ran over hitting him with my small fists. Moved by my anger, the vase from the fireplace flew and hit him in the head, making him scream. A muscular man picked me from behind and raised me, holding my hands tightly. 'Leave maman, leave her!' I yelled and cried, trying to fight him. He avoided the vase that flew over in his direction.

I was the last thing my mother saw in the house. Her dark eyes seemed as they were seeing me for the first time as a real person rather than a child. She was tied up, but her head was up higher than ever and her voice was stone cold when she said, 'Now, Lollia, be firm. Train hard before I see you again, alright?'

As he pushed her out of the house, the lumping man with the wooden leg growled, 'There's little chance you'll be seeing anything but the Azkaban walls ever again, Lestrange.'

After that, I did not speak for weeks and Lin cried a lot. Very soon we met Andromeda, "our other aunt", who seemed like an intruder to me - surely we only had aunt Narcissa! Did this woman lie to us?

But Andromeda looked so much like our mother and her softness reminded me so much of the way Narcissa treated us, so it became clear to me she must be our family. When, on my birthday, she showed up with a huge cake I finally knew - this woman cared for me. I never mentioned when my birthday was; she took her time to find it out and prepare everything to make me feel like I was a princess. That was the first time I ran to her and hugged her hard, letting out a few tears. 'You can cry.' she told me and so I did.

And then, after months of silence, I finally dared to ask her why maman never spoke of her. Andromeda smiled sadly, 'We are very… different. We parted a long time ago.'

'Do you love her?' I asked.

Andromeda was silent for a second, and then she whispered so low that sometimes I believe I must have imagined her answer.

'Yes.'

I was absorbed into this new life, slowly, without realizing it. The house was not as rich as my wonderful castle, but it was warm and cozy, in shades of orange. The smell of baking was always present. Everyone would always listen to what I wanted to say, no one would tell me to go to the other room while the adults talked. Andromeda would pick me up and kiss me for no reason. She would not call us Lollia or Marcelina, but short and sweet - Lola and Lin. 'It matches,' she said happily, 'You are sisters, you came together to me, wrapped up in each other's arms. Lola and Lin, it fits perfectly.' It shocked me the most that she let Lin cry when she fell down. We aren't supposed to cry, maman would say, we are supposed to be firm and resilient.

It was different, so entirely different… but also very nice. I still was the prettiest and I still got whatever I wanted, and I guess that played a big part in my mind.

Over time, Andromeda's face morphed with the face of maman and our house by the forest became the synonym for home. I started called Dromeda 'ma' and Ted 'dad', and I was happiest because of 'sister Dora', a funny, loud, charming thing that came along with my new life.

I am still happy. This is my life and my family, and I know I belong here. It is only rarely, on a rainy days (like the one when we flew from our manor) that I still look out of the window and imagine my other life - the second me, stuck in some other world, living the life of rich and noble in a castle of her own.