Hey guys!
This is just a random one-shot that popped into my head around midnight last night; I know it's been done lots before probably, but this is just my take on it. Please read, and hopefully leave a review! Constructive criticism is welcomed, and valued. It hasn't been beta'd although I have read through it; all mistakes are my own.
Disclaimer: I own nothing; all characters are property of JK Rowling. I am just using them for my own (and yours hopefully) enjoyment.
Summary: Narcissa's own memories of her sister Bella; not Bellatrix Lestrange – the most faithful Death Eater.
In Memory of Bellatrix Black
At the funeral of Bellatrix Lestrange there were only two people present. There was one person alive that cared enough to mourn the fact that she was dead. There had been a lot of controversy regarding the Death Eater's funeral. Many wanted her body to be obliterated into tiny little pieces, but Narcissa couldn't let that happen. She didn't care if all Bellatrix got was a cardboard box in a remote field somewhere, for it was no more than she deserved in the eyes of the rest of the wizarding world, and she was certain that her sister wouldn't have cared. Little things like that wouldn't matter to her – they never had when she was alive anyway, why should that change now she was dead?
Finding a minister was another challenge; it was hardly surprising that no one wanted the task of performing the service for the most brutal, most feared Death Eater – and she could see why – but it made Narcissa sad to think that even now, not one person could find it in their hearts to look beyond their values, and try to see what lay hidden far beneath the surface. Eventually the task fell to a young trainee chaplain, who had yet to conduct his first service – there was no time like the present after all. Bellatrix was permitted to be buried, like her family generations before, in the Black family mausoleum.
Narcissa had deliberated for days before, over whether or not to say anything at the ceremony. The chaplain had politely suggested that a eulogy would be unnecessary, inferring that the church would more likely than not, be completely empty. Whilst Narcissa accepted this second non-spoken statement would probably be accurate, she disagreed, and so spent the best part of her evenings struggling with what to say.
The day of the funeral dawned bright and clear, silently mocking the dead and the grieving. Sure enough, all pews sat empty. Even her own family weren't in attendance; for Lucius – who had just the previous afternoon been cleared of all charges – was concerned about how it may look on his already shattered reputation. Draco, though having seen and done so much more than his years should have reflected, was still just a boy. A young boy struggling to cope in the aftermath of a situation which had spiraled beyond his control; Narcissa thought it best if he was kept out of it.
So she stood on her own, at the front of the church, looking straight towards the back. She took a deep breath before beginning to speak.
"When I was growing up, I loved my sister dearly. It was no surprise to any of my family that my first word was 'Bewwa'. That was when I was two. When I was six, I used to drive her crazy – following her around and instructing her to play 'witches and wizards' with me. The day she left for Hogwarts I cried for nearly a week and refused to come out of her room. She sent me a letter after four days, and it was all okay again; although I still cried myself to sleep at night because I missed her so. She came home that summer and I begged her to show me real magic; though we'd grown up in a wizarding household, my parents were careful about how much we should be exposed to. That summer it felt like it always had done.
I started at Hogwarts when Bella was in her fifth year, and I remember literally begging to be placed in Slytherin, just because I wanted so badly to be like her. The Sorting Hat listened, and I wore the green and silver with pride. In the beginning I thought it strange that everyone seemed to know who I was – I quickly learnt that it was because of her, and that even at as young as fifteen she was a formidable opponent during any duel. Even back then I could see the steely glint in her when she talked about the dark arts; when she taught herself a new forbidden spell. Did I know that being a Death Eater was all she aspired to be? Bella may have been an experienced leglimens when she grew up, but back then it was written all over her face. It was what was expected of her. He was all the Black family stood for, the root of their family values and there was no reason why she should have thought any different.
Bellatrix sold her soul just after her seventeenth birthday, and from that point on there could be no turning back. The day she was branded my mother and father were so proud – it was everything they'd ever wanted for her… for any of us. By that point, they'd already lost one daughter to fair-mindedness and tolerance – I don't know to this day, what they'd have done if Bellatrix had turned her back on them as well, and she knew it. She always tried so hard to make our parents proud, even before Andromeda was disowned, but no matter what she did, it never seemed to make a difference. I like to think that if she'd been able to see her future – the life she was mapping out for herself – that she would have made different decisions; that she'd have turned her back on the dark arts. It was too greater a passion of hers and deep down, I know she probably would have done it all the same.
Because Bella was loyal, right up until the day she died. Her loyalty always laid with her family, with both her families – the Blacks' and the Death Eaters. It may have been directed at unworthy cause, but no one can deny it. She was fiercely protective of those she cared about in her younger years and, though many would say otherwise, she was exceptionally intelligent, 'the cleverest witch in her year' her teachers all agreed. To the rest of the world, Bellatrix never regretted a thing, but I knew differently.
When we were young, I loved her and would have gone to the ends of the earth to make her notice me. As we grew up, we had our fair share of duels and disagreements, but even then I loved her. She became Bellatrix Lestrange, and with the name, someone I barely recognised. She distanced herself and I missed her, it was like I was 7 again and she was leaving on the Hogwarts Express. I still loved her. And now, she's lying there today –"
Tears pricked at Narcissa's eyes, burning fiercely at the bag of her throat, and for the first time she allowed her voice to waver. "I'm never going to see her ever again and my life won't ever be what it was. I hate Bellatrix Lestrange for everything she did, for the lives she tore apart – for I have some idea of how that feels now. I still love Bellatrix Black, the way I always did, in the way I was brought up knowing. Bellatrix Black; my big sister! The girl who for months after pledging her allegiance to the Dark Lord apparated into my room crying, and crawled into bed beside me when she thought I was asleep. But I always knew. The girl who was subjected to the cruciatus curse twelve times a day for possessing human emotions of love and compassion, because there was no place for them in this 'new world.'
People will always remember my sister differently and I know it will mostly be in a bad light – how could it not be after everything she did? But when I think of her, I'll always remember the little girl who constantly looked to her parents for their approval and who finally achieved it. It wasn't in a way that did the world any favours, but it was in the best way she knew how.
Narcissa turned to look at her sister's casket for the first time, a sad smile on her ruby red lips, a single tear glistening on her porcelain cheek. "I never told you this Bella, even though I never could keep secrets from you. Maybe if I had, things might have been different and I regret not saying anything when I had the chance. When I looked at you, I barely knew who you were someday. I think you made so many wrong choices, and Bellatrix Lestrange was no reflection of the sister I used to know. The sister I was always so proud of, and looked to for advice.
I still love you, like I always have done and you'll always be my big sister – even though we grew apart, no matter what you did. And most importantly of all, you'll always be Bellatrix Black to me."