Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter series. All that credit goes to the lovely J.K. Rowling

A/N: Hello all and thanks so much for clicking onto this story. You are in for a wild ride let me tell you. So, I've always been attracted to Bellatrix's character, in the books and the movies alike. I mean Helena Bonham Carter totally slayed that role, didn't she? And so in a tribute to Bellatrix - even though her soul was black as black and she was utterly insane - I've decided to write this story. It's multi-chaptered and takes place during the First Wizarding War. This is going to span her childhood up to her imprisonment in Azkaban. So if you're up for the journey, strap on your helmet and let's get this Ducati into gear shall we? Cause let's face it, if Bella was a vehicle, a motorcycle she'd definitely be!

Updates will occur weekly...enjoy! Oh, and if you would so kind as to drop a line or two (or more) letting me know what you think, critiques, questions, etc that would be AMAZING!

Suffer the Children

She would not cry. No, she would not. Despite the throbbing thud of her heart, pounding so hard in her chest it was making her body tremble, despite the adrenaline induced clamminess that had befallen her perfectly pale skin. She would not cry.

"Look at me girl," her father ordered, his booming baritone tight with undiluted rage, "Look at me girl, when I am talking to you!"

But she could not look at him because if she did, her eyes would meet those of a monster. Verily, it seemed that her father's eyes could change color when his hellish wrath clouded the dark irises that were identical to her own; dark eyes gone black as his name that could make Salazar himself quake with fear and reach futilely for his wand. No, she could not look at him because if she did, she would cry. And beg for his nonexistent mercy.

And that would be much worse than the imminent punishment.

So she kept her gaze trained on the black brocade wall directly behind him and the flames of the candles in their brass holders that flickered with an almost hypnotic sway, her chin raised proudly, her squared jaw clenched to combat teeth that ached to chatter.

Her defiance only added to her father's ire and the first strike to her face was enough to make her stumble. But she did not fall. And she did not allow the whimper that had rose in her throat to breach her lips. She would not give him the satisfaction.

He hit her again. With the back of his hand. The hard edge of the large emerald ring that adorned his middle finger striking the corner of her mouth, tearing the thin skin. A sharp metallic taste peppered her tongue and the small pink muscle instinctively darted out to catch the crimson drops that welled up.

The flames continued to dance on their wicks.

He gripped her hair in a tight fist, pulling violently on the untamed curls. She allowed her body to go limp as he yanked her towards him, her eyes watering against the sharp pain at her scalp. A hairsbreadth of distance separated them. So close was she to her father that she could see the dark shadow of whiskers on his chin, so close that she could see the light film of whiteness that had gathered in the corners of his thin gash of a mouth, so close that she could smell the slight odor of Firewhiskey on his breath.

Her stomach rolled.

"You will obey me. I am the master of this house. I am your father."

Each statement was accompanied with a rough shake, the hand in her curls tightening to the point where she was sure that upon her release, several of the raven colored tresses would be torn from her person. She wanted to scream. Her eyes burned with the effort of holding back her tears. But she did not. She bit down on the fleshy innards of her cheeks hard enough to bruise the flesh. More of the metallic taste filled her mouth. She bit harder.

"You will not disgrace this family. You are nothing without my name, do you understand? Nothing." Droplets of acrid spittle sullied her face as he barked out the venomous words, "Daughters are frightfully dispensable, Bellatrix. Defy me again and I will kill you where you stand."

Her gaze lifted then, her hard onyx eyes colliding with his and a sudden epiphany struck her like a clap of thunder. They were her eyes, staring back at her ruthlessly unwavering. And she could see it within the depths just as clearly as if she had been looking into a mirror. The resentment. The contempt. The scorn. The bloodlust. It was all there. Staring back at her, reflecting what she herself felt in that very moment.

"Yes father." The words were all but wrenched from her throat, tight and hoarse, her voice pitched high and childlike. But the look in her eyes was anything but.

He dropped her as if she had burned him and she fell to her knees. The echo of Cygnus Black's footfalls seemed to reverberate around the room and she could almost feel the crack of the door as it was slammed shut.

She was alone.

Her fingers curved, her nails digging harshly into the cold stone yet she ignored the pain even as crimson beads welled under her nail beds.

It would not be the last time the pale of her hands bore the stain of blood.