After Andromeda left, Bellatrix locked herself in her room. She wouldn't eat the food the house elves brought her, she wouldn't speak when mother pleaded with her to come out, she wouldn't cry when father forced the door open and slapped her hard across the face. She just sat in her room, stone silent, trying to figure out what to do next.
Andromeda left four days ago, Bellatrix locked herself in her room, and I've never been so lonely in my life.
I found myself standing outside Bella's door numerous times. Unable to find the courage to knock, unable to find the words to say. Certainly, we all felt betrayed, but no one more than she. It seemed reasonable to mother and father. They knew that Bellatrix and Andromeda, only a year apart, were very close.
I think I'm the only one who knew exactly how close they were. Certainly, no one else acted as if any of the bonds that my elder sisters shared were wrong or improper. Often times I wondered if I was the only Black child that could see clearly. Their touches seemed to bleed a sort of sin, and the look about them when they were together, the way Bellatrix would come up to Andromeda while she was conversing without parents and twine her arms around our middle sisters waist, it was vividly wanton to my child's eyes.
Honestly, even if I *hadn't* caught them kissing by the pool during the summer before my first year, I'd still have figured it out.
That encounter was firmly etched in my mind, and I don't doubt that it will be for the rest of my life. Not just because seeing your sisters caught up in a passionate embrace tends to leave it's mark, but also because afterwards, when I didn't rat them out, a certain camaraderie formed between the three of us. Suddenly Andromeda had a kind half-smile for me when I would tell her about my riding lessons, and the glint in Bella's eyes when she saw me was certainly less homicidal then when we were younger. We never spoke about it, as if acknowledging it would make the taboo real, would break the illusion that we were just three normal sisters with three normal lives.
I truly wish that would've been the case. If it were, Bellatrix would be fine. And I wouldn't have ever bonded with Andromeda. I wouldn't feel like I was dying inside.
Day 5. And once again I find myself outside my sister's room.
I hear my mother and my aunt speaking downstairs. I had stayed in the sitting room long enough to seem polite and sufficiently ladylike, before escaping the oppressive atmosphere of angry parents and dark moods. My aunt, too, knew what it was to lose a child.
Regulus greeted me before I could make my way up the winding staircase and away from reality. His eyes dark, his face pale. I gave a start as I realized that he was only 15, and my heart went out to him. My dear, dear cousin, my darling reflection. I put my hand on his shoulder and he brought his own hand to mine, clasping it briefly, before excusing himself to go to the gardens. I remember mother mentioning how he had been spending a lot of time alone lately, and resolved to have him over for tea soon. The gods know I could use a distraction from my life anyhow. Between this and Lucius Malfoy's courting, I feel like a lost soul, drowning in the technicalities of life.
I'm drawn out of my musings by the door creaking open and the sight of my sister. Her hair was dark and greasy, and it so contrasted with her pale, sunken skin that my breath caught in my throat. She looked at me, her eyes glowing with something unnatural, before pulling me into her room, slamming her door, and kissing me with a painful urgency.
I couldn't tell you why I kissed back.
And then we were stumbling over to her bed, staggering as we tried to stay connected while discarding our robes. And somewhere in between the frenzied kisses and before the tangled sheets I managed to gasp out, "I'm not Andromeda!"
She stopped abruptly and met my eyes with tears that leaked like blood, and I knew then that this wound would never heal for her. For either of us. "I am not Andromeda." I repeated, distantly noting that my voice was trembling.
"I know," She choked, sobbing. "I know."
But neither of us pulled away.
Andromeda left four days ago, Bellatrix locked herself in her room, and I've never been so lonely in my life.
I found myself standing outside Bella's door numerous times. Unable to find the courage to knock, unable to find the words to say. Certainly, we all felt betrayed, but no one more than she. It seemed reasonable to mother and father. They knew that Bellatrix and Andromeda, only a year apart, were very close.
I think I'm the only one who knew exactly how close they were. Certainly, no one else acted as if any of the bonds that my elder sisters shared were wrong or improper. Often times I wondered if I was the only Black child that could see clearly. Their touches seemed to bleed a sort of sin, and the look about them when they were together, the way Bellatrix would come up to Andromeda while she was conversing without parents and twine her arms around our middle sisters waist, it was vividly wanton to my child's eyes.
Honestly, even if I *hadn't* caught them kissing by the pool during the summer before my first year, I'd still have figured it out.
That encounter was firmly etched in my mind, and I don't doubt that it will be for the rest of my life. Not just because seeing your sisters caught up in a passionate embrace tends to leave it's mark, but also because afterwards, when I didn't rat them out, a certain camaraderie formed between the three of us. Suddenly Andromeda had a kind half-smile for me when I would tell her about my riding lessons, and the glint in Bella's eyes when she saw me was certainly less homicidal then when we were younger. We never spoke about it, as if acknowledging it would make the taboo real, would break the illusion that we were just three normal sisters with three normal lives.
I truly wish that would've been the case. If it were, Bellatrix would be fine. And I wouldn't have ever bonded with Andromeda. I wouldn't feel like I was dying inside.
Day 5. And once again I find myself outside my sister's room.
I hear my mother and my aunt speaking downstairs. I had stayed in the sitting room long enough to seem polite and sufficiently ladylike, before escaping the oppressive atmosphere of angry parents and dark moods. My aunt, too, knew what it was to lose a child.
Regulus greeted me before I could make my way up the winding staircase and away from reality. His eyes dark, his face pale. I gave a start as I realized that he was only 15, and my heart went out to him. My dear, dear cousin, my darling reflection. I put my hand on his shoulder and he brought his own hand to mine, clasping it briefly, before excusing himself to go to the gardens. I remember mother mentioning how he had been spending a lot of time alone lately, and resolved to have him over for tea soon. The gods know I could use a distraction from my life anyhow. Between this and Lucius Malfoy's courting, I feel like a lost soul, drowning in the technicalities of life.
I'm drawn out of my musings by the door creaking open and the sight of my sister. Her hair was dark and greasy, and it so contrasted with her pale, sunken skin that my breath caught in my throat. She looked at me, her eyes glowing with something unnatural, before pulling me into her room, slamming her door, and kissing me with a painful urgency.
I couldn't tell you why I kissed back.
And then we were stumbling over to her bed, staggering as we tried to stay connected while discarding our robes. And somewhere in between the frenzied kisses and before the tangled sheets I managed to gasp out, "I'm not Andromeda!"
She stopped abruptly and met my eyes with tears that leaked like blood, and I knew then that this wound would never heal for her. For either of us. "I am not Andromeda." I repeated, distantly noting that my voice was trembling.
"I know," She choked, sobbing. "I know."
But neither of us pulled away.