Author's Note: Written for the Non Canon Competition by Cheeky Slytherin Lass on the HPFC forum. The prompt I used was "crying in the loo."
One year. One filthy year and she'll be a wife.
Wife. The word is metallic on her tongue, even unsaid. It speaks of cages, of prison bars, of the decorative ring on her finger, claiming her.
Bellatrix growls and slams her fist against the wall of the corridor. It's late, well past curfew, but the Slytherin dorms are so stifling in early autumn, and they're full of remembered encounters with Rodolphus and his idiot brother Rabastan. Thank Merlin they're no longer at school, or she might have killed herself by now. But she knows she only has one year before she's stuck with them forever, and she'll wander the halls as she pleases for a last taste of freedom.
There's a girls' loo ahead, the one Moaning Myrtle always haunts, and for a moment Bellatrix thinks it's Myrtle making the noises she's hearing. Then it occurs to her that Myrtle is more likely to throw a tantrum than to sob quietly in the corner and hope no one will hear. Her curiosity gets the better of her, and she peers around the doorframe.
It's a little girl, a first year she vaguely recognizes from the Welcoming Feast not five nights ago. She has long red hair that falls almost to her waist. It drapes around her like a curtain, and Bellatrix can't see her face, but she does recognize from the uniform that the girl is a Gryffindor.
"What's the matter, little cat?" she says, leaning against the doorway and folding her arms across her chest. Her tone is mocking, but not as much as it usually is, because it's late and she's tired.
The girl spins around, and Bellatrix gets her first look at bright green eyes, currently wide with fear and red around the edges from crying. "W-who are you?"
Bellatrix raises an eyebrow. It should be obvious, but maybe the girl is a half-blood or – Merlin forbid – a Mudblood. "Bellatrix Black. And you are?"
"Black," repeats the girl, frowning. "Any relation to Sirius Black?"
Bellatrix wrinkles her nose. "He's my kid cousin. My annoying kid cousin. My Gryffindor kid cousin. Why, got a little kitty crush?"
"On Sirius Black?" cries the girl. She seems affronted, and Bellatrix returns a few of the mental points she'd docked for the girl's House and blood status. "No! He won't leave me alone! Him and that idiot Potter! They won't stop nagging me for doing work on the first night."
The pout that follows this statement is impressive, and Bellatrix decides that she must be a Mudblood, because with a talent like that she should have been in Slytherin if she were even half. More points are returned.
"Too bad you aren't in Slytherin," she comments, absently tapping a finger against her prefect's badge. "I might've been able to help you. But as it is, I'm afraid you'll have to be punished for being out after curfew."
"Why can't you help?" the girl demands, and there's a fire in her eyes that startles Bellatrix. "Don't you have special older cousin privileges or something?"
The girl has nearly made up all the points she lost in Bellatrix's estimation for being a Mudblood Gryffindor. That's the most Slytherin thing she's ever heard a Gryffindor say.
"I don't think I got your name."
The girl blushes. "Oh. It's Lily. Lily Evans."
Bellatrix runs a finger across her lips, pretending to consider. She notices that Lily's eyes are following the movement of the finger. "Do you have any friends in Slytherin?" she says at last.
"Yes," says Lily carefully, but she doesn't elaborate. Her points are in the positive numbers now.
"Very well. I'll see about using my special older cousin privileges," and here Bellatrix smirks, "and get back at Sirius for bothering a poor little cat like you. I'll include the Potter brat for laughs. You can get back at them by getting vastly superior grades."
Lily has her hand over her mouth, obviously trying to hide a giggle. "I think I can do that."
"But," says Bellatrix coldly, and the smile falls off Lily's face instantly, "I still need to punish you for being out after curfew." She takes in the look of horror Lily is giving her and adds, almost as an afterthought, "Although perhaps I can just take care of it myself, rather than informing a teacher. I wouldn't want to give my idiot cousin and his stupid friend any more ammunition than they have already."
Lily looks marginally less distressed at that. "What… what do I have to do?" she asks faintly.
By now, Bellatrix is thoroughly enjoying the amount of control she has over the girl's emotions. So obvious too, those feelings. Gryffindors – everything is always about honesty with them. Perhaps she can change that, especially if she can find out who Lily's secret Slytherin friend is.
"The punishment for crying in the loo after curfew is to scrub the floor where you got your filthy Gryffindor tears all over it," she states, amused by the changes in Lily's expression – first relief at the simplicity of the task, then dismay at the insult. "Since there are no cleaning implements here, you may use your robe."
She leans against the doorframe again as Lily slowly removes her robe, revealing blatantly Muggle clothing underneath, and begins to scrub at the floor where she was kneeling. Bellatrix lets her continue for a good ten minutes before finally proclaiming, "I believe you've gotten everything. Now get back to your dormitory and be a good little kitty for Bella."
Lily gathers up her robe and makes to leave the room, but Bellatrix catches her around the stomach to halt her and bends her head down to whisper into the red hair.
"I'll find out who your friend is, and then we'll talk some more, okay, cat?"
Lily nods hesitantly, and Bellatrix releases her, allowing her to run out of the bathroom and in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. Smirking, Bellatrix strolls out after her and turns toward the dungeons.
Maybe this last year will be the best year yet.