A/N. This is an attempt at a fan fiction and it's my first so be nice please. Rated M to be safe, will be BellaMort in later chapters.
Disclaimer: I own nothing; J.K. Rowling is my god and creator.
Reviews are appreciated
The early morning sky was moist, dark blue velvet. The whiffs of fog rolled over the terrain in a playful pattern, each strand dancing around another. A young woman, no more than twenty, sat with her bare-feet dangling out of her fourth floor window. Leaning on one side of her open window with both nearly bare legs hanging out, one hand clutched around her wand and the other laying lazily at her side, was the second eldest daughter of the house. With her dark, heavy-lidded eyes nearly closed and her long tangle of black hair falling into her face and her head lulling towards to side of the window she looked nearly asleep. She was not. She was simply in thought. Getting up from her position in her window she sighed, pulled the fabric of her nightdress back down her legs and neglected her shoes. The door opened quietly, the most silent hinges in the house, and she slipped from the room. Knowing only a walk would clear her mind, she glided out of the house, she was simply another shadow on the manor's outer wall.
The paths of her brain were jumbled with decisions; she was at a cross-road. Her mother had basically thrown down the ultimatum this evening, chose a pure-blood husband soon or she'd be stuck with her mother's pick. She'd been out of school for two years now and was frustrating her parents with her lack of interest in finding a husband. She knew that if her mother had her way she'd be stuck with someone like, god forbid, Lucius Malfoy. She wasn't interested in being someone's society wife, her name would be remembered, she would become something. A great something, something to be feared and respected in this world. And, she thought, when they so much as say Bellatrix Black they will tremble.
If Bellatrix had her way, she would never be forced to settle down with someone she didn't even care for remotely, she'd be out in the world doing….something. Fighting for something she believed in, something that could do right by her family name. It was as though the sun had suddenly shone brightly through the dark dawn and infiltrated her mind, chased away the cobwebs. There was a man, whose name they would not speak, he was fighting for the values of pure-blood. Yes, that was it, decided Bellatrix. She was as determined and set on becoming on of his followers, the people who called themselves the Death Eaters, as she was on not marrying her mother's idea of a match. So convicted, that it was hard to tell she had only just made the decision.
Bellatrix awoke from the reminiscing. This was three months earlier. She had kept her self made promise, she has joined His ranks. Unfortunately, that did not sit well with her mother, resulting in a forced engagement to Rodolphus Lestrange. Oh well, she thought, I will never love him or care for him, and my mother will have no grandchildren until Andromeda was married. Serves her right, thought Bellatrix, forcing me into that.
Bellatrix was not only being cold and indifferent towards the man because of her disgust with the situation, but because she knew she would never be able to love him. Her heart was already wrapped around the one thing she would never be allowed to have. Him. She had felt a fondness growing ever since she began to read about what he had done, what he and his followers were doing, the new world being formed. She had convinced herself that it was only respect that she felt, nothing more. A desire to be a part of it all. The lying to herself only lasted until the she met him.
Narcissa knocked on her older sister's door, quiet at first, but got louder as no response came. "Bella! Bella, are you ready yet? The guests will be here in less than an hour and mother wants us downstairs to greet them."
"Not quite…but come in" she called through the door. Narcissa hesitantly pushed open her sister's door. As usual there was less lighting in her room then the rest of the house, but even in near semi-darkness, Narcissa could see her sister's hair silhouetted against the mirror, a light flickering in the mirror's reflection. Bellatrix's hair hung in front of her eyes, eyes that were focused on the match slowly burning and shrivelling away to nothing, only to pull out a new one and watch it slowly die. She had taken only one step to get ready, she was dressed. Granted, not in the dress her mother had approved. Her mother's choice was high necked, green, and barely gave any definition of curves. The dress Bellatrix had chosen was black, much tighter and form fitting, with a dangerously low V-neck that tied in a halter at the top.
"Bella you're not close to being ready!" Narcissa said defiantly
"You're right…" she put of a pair of black lace gloves that passed her elbows "Better Cissy?" She said mockingly.
"Oh yes, it makes that whole hooker look much more complete" She said sarcastically
"Hooker? A bit harsh now." Bellatrix said with a laugh. "Why are you in such a rush anyways? We have guests all the time and no one is ever this fussed." She turned away from the grimy mirror to look at her sister.
"Bellatrix, do you EVER listen? Ever?" Narcissa asked in exasperation.
"Occasionally, I do have selective hearing after all." She said with a smile.
"These aren't just any guests Bellatrix."
"Oh, so is mother trying to marry one of us off to them? Is that it?" She snapped back, her voice bitter, cold, and high.
"No, Bellatrix…it's…it's a…a…friend…of father's…the one…that the papers…they won't call him by name…" she said nervously fidgeting with the end of her sleeve.
"What? Why didn't anyone tell me? I would have been ready ages ago…" Bellatrix said as she rushed about the room getting ready.
"Well, if you listened you would know." Narcissa said testily.
"Either shut up and help me, or leave. You know where the door is." Bellatrix said disdainfully, as she dried her hair with her wand. Narcissa continued to dry her hair while Bellatrix applied make-up.
"Bellatrix, your make-up….it's a little much, don't you think?" Narcissa scolded.
"Don't worry…I know what looks right. Unlike you, do you even own eyeliner?" Bellatrix snapped back at her sister.
"Sorry for not being a little whore." Narcissa murmured.
"Oh, what was that Cissy dear?" Bellatrix said with a demented laugh.
"Nothing..." Narcissa said quietly, her discomfort of being in her sister's presence growing.
"Find me some shoes; I can never seem to remember where I leave them." Bellatrix said
"Well maybe if you actually wore them every now and again…" Narcissa's voice disappeared into the closet. "Here we go…" she tossed the heels to her sister.
"Do I still look like a hooker?" Bellatrix asked as she looked at the final product.
"Well, no, maybe a high-classed escort." Narcissa joked half heartedly. Bellatrix gave her a look that sent chills down her spine. If looks could put you in physical pain, that one would do it.
"Play nice sister dearest." Bellatrix said spitefully.
"You look fine; now let's go before mother decapitates us." Narcissa said rolling her eyes and heading for the door. "She's going to be livid I took so long, I was only sent up here to make sure you wore shoes."
"Don't worry Narcissa; she'll forgive you, her perfect little daughter." Bellatrix voice cut like a knife fuelled by resent on the word perfect.
"Bellatrix, please, wear your shoes." Narcissa pleaded.
"Oh…well then if that's what mother would like…" Bellatrix took her shoes off after Narcissa left the room. She smirked at her reflection in the mirror and left the room knowing she would arrive for dinner just after their special guest.
"Well then…" Bellatrix whispered eerily. Her eyes were dark and hidden in the poor lighting, but deep within them there was a flicker of utter darkness. So dark her eyes seemed black, with hatred and with utmost dark intents. The light of sanity flickering out before it returned to a dim burn. "To hell with Mother dearest."