Hey all, so this is really just about how I pictured the relationship between Bellatrix and Draco. It's not exactly my usual style, but I hope you guys like it. Reviews always appreciated :*

~Dani

PS. This is for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition with the prompt of writing about the family role of an aunt/uncle, with the additional prompts of the word 'below', the dialogue 'Don't tell me what to do!' and the quote "Every family has bad memories"

"Every family has bad memories." ~Mario Puzo

The creak of a door. A click of heels on hardwood floor. The sound of a heavy coat dropping onto the sofa. I cringed back into my clothes, pulling on the ends of my sleeves. It was time.

"Cissy?" A voice called out through the silent house, making my ears ring, "Are you here?"

"In the kitchen, Bella," my mother's voice yelled back, "Draco's downstairs."

There was no response after that, but I could hear her dark heeled boots making her way down the stairs. She never took off her shoes when she came into our house anymore.

"Draco," she said in greeting as she came into view, her dark, curly hair as wild as always.

I inclined my head, "Good evening, Aunt Bellatrix."

"Are you ready?" she asked, and I almost laughed. I was never ready. But admitting to that would only lead to punishment. And I would get enough of that already.

So I only nodded. "Of course."

She smiled, a horrible, evil smile, "Excellent. Our lesson will be outside today."

"Outside?" I repeated. We usually never left the basement.

"Of course," she said dismissively, and turned on her heel to walk back upstairs. She was acting civil enough now, but it always started this way. She would show her true colours soon enough.

The night air was cool, but I didn't let myself shiver, knowing it would be seen as a sign of weakness. I never used to be seen as weak- I was a pureblood, a Malfoy- but since my father's failure to catch Harry Potter, I could feel the Death Eaters looking at me as if I were just something to drag along. Weakness was not tolerated in Death Eater ranks. Magically or mentally.

I was more horrified than surprised when I saw the broken looking man chained up behind the Manor. His face was gaunt, as if he hadn't eaten for days, and his shaking hands were cracked and bloody. He looked up as we approached, his features twisting into a snarl upon recognizing my Aunt.

"This is Charles Abel," Bellatrix said, without looking down at him, "Filthy mudblood." She aimed a kick in his direction, and he stumbled backwards as far as his chains would allow. Her foot just grazed his midsection, but he flinched back in pain. It couldn't have been the first time she'd kicked him.

"Today," she said, looking me over distractedly, "We will be testing your ability to follow orders."

I felt my heart rate quicken, a cold suspicion forming as to exactly what she meant by that.

"This thing is a disgrace to our kind," she said, "We wizards are a noble race, tainted by these worthless creatures. They are so," she paused, "Below us. So undeserving, don't you think, Draco?"

I nodded mutely, watching the fear in the man's eyes grow. He struggled to free himself, but the chains, evidently charmed, only bound him tighter.

"He should be punished, should he not? For believing that he is equal to those of us with pure blood?"

Another nod.

"Good," she said. Her voice was soft, like a kitten purring. The calm before the storm, I suppose. And I could already hear the thunder coming. "I'm glad you agree. Because you are going to be the one to punish him."

I swallowed, "But, surely, Aunt Bellatrix, you would be the much better choice."

She silenced me with a look. "Draco. Of course, I would be the better choice, if the goal was merely punishment of the unworthy. But this is your lesson- to follow instructions. Will you follow them? Or not?" She practically spit out the last word and I steeled myself, refusing to allow my body to cringe away.

"Of course I will," I said, but I could feel the dread rising up my throat.

"Excellent," Bellatrix beamed, "But silence him first. All the screaming will wake the entire neighborhood."

I saw the man's eyes widen further, his breaths sharp and shallow.

Trying to appear nonchalant, I pulled out my wand, "Silencio," I muttered, and the sound of Charles Abel's panicked whimpering cut off short.

"Now, the Cruciatus Curse would work wonders here," she mused. She didn't make it sound like an order, but I knew that's what it was. With Bellatrix Lestrange, everything was either an order or a question that she already knew the answer to.

I lifted my wand again, pointing it at the man's beaten face. "Cru-" The spell choked in my throat. This was wrong, all wrong. Why was there a man chained to the back of the Manor? If his blood status was inferior, he should be stripped of his power, not tortured not like this. After all, even animals should not be put under so much pain.

"I can't-"

"Can't what?" she hissed at me. The amused light that was in her eye a moment ago was lost to the wind. "What can't you do?"

I didn't respond, only stared defiantly at her.

"How will you serve the Dark Lord," she snarled, "You wouldn't even use the Cruciatus Curse on a frog, could you? "

"I-"

But she was too quick for me. And too skilled. Before I could react, her wand was out, pointed at my chest. "Crucio."

I was on fire. That was the only explanation. Surely nothing else could hurt this much. I felt a scream building inside my chest, but I forced it down. My mother couldn't hear me screaming. She couldn't know the things her sister did to me. To her, I was still a child. Knowing how these things happened in my lessons every week would be enough to break her.

I was released after only a few seconds, but my heart was racing.

"Now will you follow instructions or not," she demanded.

I glanced over to Charles Abel, kneeling on the ground now. He looked, in short, terrified. That made two of us.

I looked back to my Aunt, who was watching us carelessly. "Do it, boy. You're just like your father. He was a worthless man, just like you are. You're not worthy of my bloodline, are you? You'll fail, just like my brother-in-law. Because you can't even use the Cruciatus Curse on a filthy. Little. Mudblood."

When she mentioned my father, now locked up behind Azkaban bars, something inside me cracked. The words were out before they'd even run through my head. "Don't tell me what to do," I said and the response was instantaneous.

The back of her hand snapped across the side of my face, and I fell back, more out of surprise than anything else. It was rare the Bellatrix ever used physical violence- the Cruciatus Curse always seemed to be her torture method of choice- but something about it felt degrading, like I was a disobedient puppy being kicked.

She wasn't done yet, but I'd already known that. She hadn't caused nearly enough pain to be done. I didn't even hear the incantation, but the unbelievable pain started up again. I thrashed, trying to free myself of the relentless torture. It lasted longer than before, much longer. It got to a point where I couldn't even tell how long it had been happening for. The only thing that kept me sane was the knowledge that my mother was nearby. Bellatrix didn't want her to know about this anymore that I did, so it had to stop soon. But even that comfort started to slip away as the torture continued, every second more excruciating than the last. I didn't know my name, or who was casting the spell. I couldn't see, I couldn't speak. I. Couldn't. Think.

And just when I felt myself starting to fade, the curse was lifted. I lay on the grass, panting, while Bellatrix looked me over in disgust. "I expect," she said disdainfully, "That you will obey my orders next time."

She turned to Charles Abel, her nose wrinkling in disgust, "You are much too lucky for my taste," she said, "But unfortunately, I'm working on a schedule."

Without even sparing him a glance, she muttered, "Avada Kedavra," and in a flash of green light, he was dead.

Bellatrix turned on her heel, already heading back to the house. "Dispose of him," she said, but I could only just barely hear her. She said something else too, I thought, but it was lost in the wind. Like so many things tended to be these days.

When I finally made my way back into the Manor, Bellatrix was already gone. Mother was standing at the foot of the stairs, charming away the dents left by my aunt's high heels on our otherwise perfect wood floor. She never took her shoes off when she came into our house anymore.