It's only for a few hours, she'd insisted. Bellatrix huffed a sigh as she stared resentfully at the thing in its crib, as it twisted and turned in its sleep, hands balled into fists and striking the air – occasionally letting out the odd moan or gurgle. What's the worst that could happen? She had responded with 'What if it shits itself?' – all she had received by way of an answer had been a blunt 'Work it out', proceeded by a lecture from Andromeda about not calling her daughter an 'it'. Frankly, Bella didn't see what the problem was. It was nothing more than a filthy half-blood – how dare Andromeda sully the Black name with the blood of a muggle? She was still utterly disgusted with her – because of both her marriage in the first place, and then for having the nerve to breed, further tainting her bloodline, and bringing dishonour to her family.
The whole family, in fact, was disgusted, though few more than she. Her mother had nearly killed the stupid girl when she'd come home the day after that stupid muggle had put a ring on her finger; Father had broken two windows and a house elf's arm launching various books, small tables, and items of crockery at her after she announced that she was expecting the child which currently lay before her pissed-off older sister. Their aunts and uncles and grandparents hadn't spoken to any of the family for the shame since the day they found out, and that was perhaps what had angered her the most. The previous year's Christmas had been fairly shitty, that went without saying. In fact, the only individual in their entire family who could stand her, her husband, and her brat – and in her opinion he didn't really count, – was Sirius. But he'd been a muggle-lover since the day he discovered that they existed – of course he'd be able to stomach the whole thing.
Narcissa's anger had been passive-aggressive and almost bitchy, but the word 'subtle' just didn't exist in Bella's vocabulary. Her outbursts towards Andromeda had been violent and frequent, but for whatever reason, she had shrugged them off, and this was why Bellatrix found herself sitting with her arms folded and legs crossed in her sitting room, keeping a loathing eye on the bitch's spawn. She was infinitely surprised that Andromeda trusted her at all, and even more so that she herself had actually agreed to this at all. But it was term time, so Sirius was still at Hogwarts; Cissy was busy; Mother had almost killed another house elf when she even tried to broach the subject of babysitting; and apparently Andromeda valued such things as shopping sprees more than the safety of her brat, so leaving it with Bella had for some reason been a good idea in her stupid little head – the girl was stubborn as all hell, and Bellatrix guessed that she herself had said yes in order to get her to shut up and fuck off.
Her nostrils flaring, she tilted the crib in order to take a better look at her niece – this was quite honestly the closest she had ever consented to being around the thing. She held the cradle at arm's length – hardly touching it at all; just hooking the edge of it with the tips of her fingers – in the way that one might handle something disgusting. Even at only a few months old – three last time that she had consciously checked, though it looked closer to six or seven at that particular moment in time – the downy peach fuzz it had for hair was violently pink – its hair had changed colour several times over the last few months, but for whatever reason, pink seemed to be a favourite. Well, at least it wasn't a squib – silver linings and all that, Bella thought to herself. While the bubblegum-hued fluff of its hair marked it out as an obvious metamorphmagus, the thing hadn't yet figured out how to dick about with its facial features; save for its hair, it looked remarkably like Andromeda, and Cissy, and even – loathe as she was to admit it – herself had done as babies. Bellatrix nearly retched at this thought.
Nymphadora. What kind of disgusting name was Nymphadora for a baby? Oh, the thing would surely grow up to hate its parents for that one, make no mistake, and it'd probably give them hell for it, too – if there was one thing that Black women were good at, it was giving people hell...Except she wasn't a Black – Bellatrix squirmed at the realisation that her hatred for its mother had seemingly allowed the thing to grow on her a little for a split second.
She jumped as little as she turned to look at the thing once again, and realised its eyes were open – dark pools of melted chocolate, with pupils the size of saucers, though she could have sworn that they'd been blue earlier on. That seemed to be the other part of its powers that it presently had a handle on – eye colour. It blinked a few times, inhaling deeply as it gazed up at her.
"Oh for fuck's sake, please don't cry..." Bellatrix lamented, face-palming as she rolled her eyes. Though she hated this one in particular, babies in the abstract were something which she hated. All of the tears, and temper tantrums, and puke, and shit, and piss...They were disgusting, and annoying, and they utterly wrecked a person's sleeping patterns, and daily routines and social lives...urgh. She despised them.
However, the baby she was currently dealing with clearly hadn't picked up on this yet. It gurgled, smiling pathetically as it showed off the singular tooth which it currently possessed, and reached out a little hand for...well, Bella wasn't sure. Until she felt its tiny fingers grasp the nail of her left pinkie. She'd forgotten about the hand on the crib's edge, which she had absently outstretched the fingers of as she relaxed. Indignant, she pulled her hand away, scowling at the infant in front of her. Her sudden movement caused the crib to sway to and fro violently, but the thing merely giggled, kicking its bandy legs with enjoyment. Bellatrix wiped her hand on her robes, snarling.
"I could kill you," she muttered at it, her lip curled. The thing clearly had no idea what she was saying, as it giggled some more, then outstretched both of its arms, as though it wished to be picked up. Bella growled at it again. "Fat fucking chance. Go back to sleep. I almost liked you when you were asleep."
Finally, it seemed to sense her hostility, but not by shutting up or lying at peace. Oh no. It released all the air in its lungs in one painfully long, unwavering, set-your-teeth-on-edge screech, before re-oxygenating and repeating the whole performance again, its face turning violently tomato-red. Bellatrix lodged her fingers firmly into her ears, nearly crying herself with the frustration of the whole thing. After possibly the longest thirty seconds of her entire life, she gave up entirely on enduring its screaming as she tried to wait until the outburst had run its course, and hesitantly attempted to rock the cradle with her foot – to no avail. The cries continued; if anything, they only got louder, and more high-pitched.
"For the love of all things good...Okay, you don't need changed, because I can't smell anything. You're not hungry, because your idiot mother said she'd fed you before she left her house, and she only abandoned you here twenty minutes ago. You're not tired, because you just woke up from a fucking nap. What is wrong with you?" Bella questioned the thing, shouting over the top of the infernal racket it was making. "Right, you little shit...Come to Auntie Bella," she grimaced, before plucking her fingers from her ears, the sudden increase in volume and pitch making her wince, and reaching into the crib, picking the thing up under its armpits. She continued to hold it at arm's length away from herself – in the way that people tend to handle bags of garbage, or pets who've rolled in something dead, – as she jogged it up and down a little in a poor attempt at stopping the fucking noise. She moaned to herself, screwing her face up and turning away from it as it howled again, pummelling her arm with its tiny fists. She had half a mind to throttle the stupid thing, but she knew that Andromeda would bury her alive and then dance on her grave if she did so – she was willing to die in a multitude of ways, but at the hands of her stupid, muggle-loving brat of a sister wasn't one of them.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, standing up from the couch as she planned her next move. Dear god...If only Sirius was there – and that wasn't a sentence which she used frequently. He was so smitten with the thing, constantly waxing lyrical about how cute it was, or how amazing it was that it was showing signs of magic so early – it loved him to pieces too, and he was so patient with it – both as himself and Snuffles, which Bella guessed was half of the reason that the thing liked him so much. It would shut up for him. Though she assumed that if she could turn into a fucking Labrador, it would maybe like her a tad more as well.
She was infinitely thankful that nobody – particularly Rodolphus; she would have never heard the end of it from him if he'd seen – was around to see what it was she planned on doing next. Gulping, with her lip involuntarily curling with disgust, she brought the thing's body in close to her own, so that its chin rested on her shoulder – it was still crying, and she didn't appreciate having its mouth any closer to her ear at all – and its torso was held against her left breast, its legs still kicking and arms still punching – fuck, the brat was strong. She paced slowly to and fro around her front room, her high-heeled shoes clicking against the mocha-stained parquet of the floor, cradling its body in one arm; her opposite hand supporting its head. Eventually, to her enormous levels of relief and near- ecstasy, its crying subsided into a series of soft mews and gurgles. It clasped hold of a hank of her hair in one hand as it made itself comfortable against her bosom, and Bellatrix tutted; more than slightly peeved, but too afraid of a second tantrum to do anything about it, or even move too much.
Sighing deeply, she sat back down, the infant still clasped to her chest, wide-eyed and presumably chewing on that clump of hair it had in its clutch by the sound of things. Bellatrix sighed heavily. It was decided almost there and then; she was never procreating. She had struggled enough keeping this kid quiet and alive for half an hour, forget about upside of eighteen years. Honestly, she'd have preferred doing that kind of time in Azkaban. It'd probably be easier. And cheaper. And quieter. And they made your food for you there, too – she honestly hated cooking on a similar level to children.
It wore a pale lilac babygro, its backside heavily padded with the nappy that she was almost ecstatic that she hadn't had to change yet – or, hopefully, ever. It was making a series of soft, catlike noises as it settled down, and it smelled...weird. Not poo-weird, just...strange. Like talcum, and lavender, and clean clothes – well, just how babies were supposed to, she had been told. Bellatrix blew a lock of her hair out of her face, sitting back down on her couch, taking great care not to move too suddenly in order to avoid triggering any more tears, and then folding and unfolding her legs as she attempted to get comfortable herself when most of her energy was being invested in keeping her upper half as still as was humanly possible. She was bored stiff, but not bored enough yet to risk another outburst which may have been induced by her putting it down.
She guessed perhaps it was cute, in an odd sort of way. It kind of had her nose. Well, it had Andromeda's nose, but she and her sisters basically all looked the same, only Bella suffered from that ludicrously frizzy hair that made her look as though she had recently been struck by lightning, and Cissy had somehow turned out white-blonde in spite of there being next-to no blondes in the family (she dyed that stupid black streak into it, but that really only succeeded in making her look like a badger.) And it was so tiny...Tiny things are always adorable – it was basically a fact. Bella stared at it almost lovingly – it was so close to perfect, and...No, no it wasn't – Bellatrix, pull yourself together for crying out loud. Fair enough, she still disliked it more than she could find words for, but that was for what it symbolised. But it was still kind of cute, regardless of it being the spawn of a disgusting blood-traitor – if it was at all possible to refer to a pink-haired infant who possessed the ability to become a screaming hell-beast for seemingly no reason whatsoever every so often as being 'cute'.
Bellatrix leaned her head back, stretching her legs out as she yawned deeply, hastily drawing back as the thing almost shoved its hand into her mouth. An impromptu catnap would have been truly wonderful, had there been someone else around to watch the thing to allow her to go upstairs to her bed. But alas, Rodolphus had jumped ship as soon as he had heard of Bella's plans for the day, and was currently skulking around Knockturn Alley purchasing shit that they didn't need with her money; Andromeda would kill her if she found out that she had left a house elf in charge of her daughter (Annie thought of house elves as Bella did muggles) and the only remaining resident of the house – the cat – was probably no use whatsoever at babysitting.
Bellatrix's eyes had grown heavy-lidded with the exhaustion of dealing with her niece, and she wasn't sure that she had ever thought her sofa to be quite so comfortable as she leaned back as far as she could, sinking into the leather. The thing was asleep again now, gently sucking its thumb, its tiny chest pressing against hers as it inhaled and exhaled. Finally, a noise it was capable of making that was in some way soothing...
Andromeda returned some two hours later to collect her daughter, who was thankfully still alive, with all four limbs still attached. When she asked Bellatrix how she'd been, the answer her psychopath of a sister had given her had been nothing less than she'd expected – it screamed the place down; it had been a nightmare; she was bloody lucky that she hadn't choked it; regardless, she hadn't harmed a (weirdly pink) hair on the child's head; she was absolutely, categorically, never, ever doing it again; she still hated the thing...Blah blah, so on and so forth.
Andromeda hadn't the heart to tell Bella that she'd been dead-to-the-world asleep on her chaise lounge when she had walked through the door, the little girl resting on her chest as she cuddled into it; one of Dora's tiny hands clasped in her own.
She still had the photograph, of course. She would need that for blackmail in the future.
Various 'Bellatrix babysitting Tonks' fics exist; however, a lot of them seem totally out-of-character for Bella. She's a total nutter who probably has some sort of personality disorder; at no point is she likely to be good with children, lest of all one who is half-muggle but still related to her. So I thought that I'd write a scenario which takes place when Bellatrix still thoroughly dislikes and has a lot of contempt for Andromeda and her child, but has to look after said child under duress. In this universe, Andromeda's family still hates her for marrying Ted; however, she wasn't disowned for whatever reason. Tonks is about six months old in this story, which makes Bellatrix 22 if I'm not mistaken, and Andromeda 20 in my headcanon, (she was born between 1951 and 1955, and I like the thought of there being a fairly even age gap between the Black sisters ;)Narcissa is 18, and Sirius 13. I don't know at what age Sirius became an Animagus, but the Wiki page had nothing on it, so for the sake of the story it was in Third Year.
Bellatrix's inner monologue is fucking fun to write; she's still very young here, so not quite as much of the insane Voldemort groupie we all know and love, but she does have that sort of underlying insanity and scathing resentment for absolutely fucking everything. And of course she swears a lot - it fit her character in my mind. Also, my self-censorship skills basically don't exist. My comments about Azkaban were very intentional foreshadowing before anybody asks.