A/N: Rodolphus finds his wife looking at some old photographs. I love writing Bella fics so much. Now the POV switches within the story, so I hope it doesn't confuse you too much. Also, check out my Children of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black drabble collection and see the reference to the Andromeda chapter. RxR. FxF. I do not own Harry Potter.
Submission for:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): Arithmancy Assignment #2. Prompts: cried, drowned, photographs
Connect the Death Eaters Challenge: Bellatrix/Rodulphus
Hogwarts Fair 2014 Challenge/Competition: Dunk the Death Eater - Bellatrix or Rodolphus
"Bella," Rodolphus called throughout his home, his voice echoing a bit off the high walls as he exited the floo. He had gotten in late, held up at his brother's house after a late night poker game with the others. He had lost close to 1000 galleons tonight and he was reluctant to tell his wife. But the thing is, she loved to check their finances and there would definitely be hell to pay if 1000 galleons, no matter how much money they had in Gringotts, were to go unaccounted for.
When he got no response, he began walking further into the house, calling her name again as he went. She should be home. There was nothing pressing for her to do. Maybe she had visited her sister? If she did, she would be home a few hours ago.
He pushed the door open to their bedroom and there he saw her. She sat on the bed still in her day clothes, an almost empty glass of red white in her hand and a large photo album across her lap. She still hadn't noticed him enter the room as she cried silent tears onto the aged pictures.
"Bella," he said softly from the doorway trying not to startle her. But it still did. She jumped a bit, the red wine sloshing the large glass, threatening to escape its wide brim before stilling. She tried to glare at him but the effect was lost with the trails of black mascara running down her pale cheeks.
She spoke harshly to him, shoving the photo album aside and standing from the bed, "Why are you home so late, Roddy?"
Her fire was back and he knew to tread carefully now. He said softly but clearly, "Poker game at Rab's, my Bella."
With the use of her pet name, he knew he had quenched the fire a bit. She made a small noise in her throat and put the glass of red liquid to her lips. His eyes went from her marred face, to the wine glass then to the photographs on the bed. He approached her slowly and pulled her close, "Are you alright, my dear?"
She turned away from him, not wanting to meet his eyes. She couldn't tell him how she had spent most of the day at Narcissa's house. During her visit with Narcissa, they had stumbled across their mother's old chest. They had rummaged through it, dying to know just what atrocities their mother may have thought worthy enough to lock into this rusty old box. They pulled out numerous hideous and gaudy dresses, an old broken tea set and Narcissa wondered why their mother would put something so fragile in this trunk, and pair of tarnished hair combs and brooches.
Then Narcissa reached deep into the trunk and brought out a small music box, bringing back memories to the two of them of a time long ago. Their mother had bought the music box for the three sisters to share. Bellatrix had loved the music box and kept it to herself but one day, Narcissa had stolen it. To stop the sisters' fighting, the decision was made by their disowned sister, Andromeda, who in the end had taken the box into her own room after the other sisters had forgotten about it.
Tears sprung to Narcissa's eyes as she gazed at the lone dancer atop the broken mirror stage, the reflective pieces on its side all plucked off. The dancer's slender arms that had once extended above her head had broken off and Narcissa pulled them from the bottom of the trunk. Her glass body with the green tutu was now opaque and covered in many scratches. Narcissa turned the key and the dancer sprung to life, her movements slowed by the time, a few of her dance steps forgotten and the effect diminished by her lack of arms, but she still held an indescribable elegance and grace.
Narcissa sobbed loudly, holding the music box close to her chest, uncaring that the dust was sullying her green satin dress. She mourned the loss of her sister and wished things didn't have to be as there were. But Bellatrix had grown angry, her sorrow transforming into pure rage. It was all Andromeda's fault for falling in love with a filthy muggle!
She snatched the music box from her younger sister's grasp and slammed it onto the floor forcefully. The broken shards of glass flew high up into the air, scattering across the floor and grazing their exposed skin, some landing into the trunk with a few embedding themselves into the gauzy fabric of the old dresses.
Narcissa screamed, begging her sister to calm down and control herself, admonishing her for doing such a horrible thing, for destroying such a lovely trinket, for destroying one of their good memories of their middle sister. Bellatrix ignored her as she pulled out her wand and blasted the large pieces of glass into even smaller ones, covering the floor in a layer of fine sand. It was with sick pleasure that she blasted the slender dancer into dust.
Bellatrix's breathing had slowed down when all the destruction had come to an end and the shattering noises had ebbed away. She watched as Narcissa fell to the floor among the light grains skittering in the soft breeze, not caring about the small cuts she received. Her fingers traced patterns as she sobbed and held a hand over her heart. Then she gave Bellatrix a look of utter betrayal before running from the room, the frivolity of the day broken like the shattered music box.
Bella had come straight home afterwards, clutching herself tightly and worried that she would break as well. She could not place the feeling that held her. It was anger that drove her to smash the stupid box, but actually smashing it hadn't driven the feeling away. Her fingers touched her cheek and she felt wetness there. She was crying? Somehow, some moments afterwards, she found herself drawing out an old photo album, pouring herself a large glass of red wine, and losing herself in her memories.
But now Roddy was home, his warm chest on her back and she shivered in his embrace. He feared that she would wrench free of his grasp, but she remained there. He spun her around as more tears rolled down her cheeks but Bella would not let the sounds out. Bella was always a silent crier, for she saw crying as a weakness and wanted no one to hear her. As long as she was out of sight, they wouldn't even know.
But Rodolphus knew, and he held his wife in his arms, an explanation for the events leading up to this moment unnecessary. He had seen the evidence and could make his own inferences: the familiar photo album from Bella's childhood and the fact that Bella always drowned her sorrows with red wine.