Hey guys!
So, after months of struggle — moving to a different country, exams, working and studying, in short, life, I'm kind of back.
This is a piece that I wrote for a RPG forum I'm on, and it's set during Marauders' Time (so 1977 or something). It was written in French, but I translated it, so my apologies if some sentences are weird. I tried my best to keep the atmosphere.
Basically, just a moment inside the head of Bellatrix.
WARNINGS : Just a little bit of curse words, I believe. Very mild reference to torture, none-graphic. And dark themes in general. It is Bellatrix we're talking about.
Enjoy!
If one couldn't reproach Bellatrix for one thing, it would be not being devoted to a cause. Incidentally, her passion was bordering on obsession, unhealthy at best, and this was what could be debatable. Nevertheless, the passing years didn't help her in the art of letting go, and she was then again following her darling little sister, whom she didn't want to call sister anymore, let's just say disappointment incarnated, the traitor, the coward, the heartless monster, the inhuman thing who abandoned her, her, her own blood, in the hands of other heartless monsters, incompetents, scientists pretending to be doctors, despicably noisy. It wasn't much to say she hadn't forgiven her for this new rebellion, and that from all her insults, this last one remained the worst. It freed something Bellatrix had worked really hard in denying, and now she was forced to remember, and two times already she had curled up into a ball in the corner of her room. She could still feel hands on her, studying her, cold and insensitive, and she couldn't forget anymore. It was her curse, she remembered everything, everything she had done and everything that was done to her, she remembered every betrayal, every atrocity and every suffering.
Andromeda was the most painful of all. The others, she could forgive, maybe ; she could cope at least, in the best scenario cases. But her, her, she was her sister and she had betrayed her in the worst way imaginable. Running away, Bellatrix could understand that. Hell, in her worst moments, she wanted to do the same thing, running while she still could, leave everything behind, give up everything and everyone, and think about her own happiness, for once in her life. After all, she didn't have anyone to protect anymore : Andy had gone, and Narcissa was married. But Voldemort had his claws too deeply embedded in her soul, and she knew that even if she wanted nothing else than her freedom, she couldn't fight to get it, because she would loose. And she was tired of loosing. Voldemort, it seemed, in spite of all his wrong doings and his manipulations, was the key to her cage. He offered her freedom without consequences, he offered her the world, and for what? Obedience, loyalty, efficiency. She could do it, she thought, she could be his weapon, but she knew, deep down, that he would betray her like they all did : her father because of his violence, her mother because of her indifference, Andromeda because of her cowardice, and Narcissa because of her weakness
Bad habits die hard, they say, and it couldn't be more true: she was hunting the whore. She had promised herself, still, to leave her alone, for a time, after she had marked her skin with her worst sin (mudwhore), but it was too much and suddenly, her instability made her leave Lestrange Manor. She couldn't face her husband anymore, she would kill him if she could, therefore she had nothing else to do but to pursue her, walk the street hoping to stumble upon her, and maybe this time, have the strength to strangle her until all light dies in her eyes. It would be giving her a favour, wouldn't it? If she did kill her now, she wouldn't have to witness her husband and baby girl die, it was a favour. Yes, yes it was. Convinced, she threw herself into her hunt. The Dark Lord would call if he needed her. Still remained a dilemma, however: did she want to have her sister's blood (her blood) on her hands? Maybe she'd let the voices take control, she thought, when she'd found her. They screamed loud enough, after all. Maybe she'd loose control, once and for all, and the primitive act would take care of it for her.
She didn't think she would find her on Diagon Alley. She could have sworn it would be more difficult that to see her in the middle of the street, holding hands with this tiny little monster, this hideous creature with dirty blood, the ultimate proof of her sister's indiscretions. The small head full of curls was given her nausea, and she wanted to end everything, right now, by a spelled yelled with every ounce of hatred in her body. She was torn between so many emotions, everyone more stupid than the last. She felt she was being replaced, by this human being so tiny and so pure, so much more than she was. She knew it was stupid, that the truth was miles away from that, and yet, she felt things like someone constantly abandoned for another thing, another person, shinier and less damaged. The other emotion, stronger, more painful, full of secrecy and unspeakable, was jealousy. This child, she wanted it to be hers. She didn't deserve of, of course not, but she wanted it all the same. She wanted something that was hers, something that would love her unconditionally, and that would never give up on her. But her womb was rotting away, and she was loosing them already.
She ran after them. She was graceful, moving through the crows with skill and discretion. She couldn't let them escape, not when they were so close, in the palm of her hand; when she could crush them. She wanted to crush them to dust, them and all they stood for. She wanted to destroy her own hopes for a family; she wanted to turn the world back, to paint it with desperation and to be Queen. They went inside a Toy Store, and seconds later, she followed. She lost them. Her eyes had been drawn by some artefacts (simple toys), that she never had the chance to see before, that nobody offered her. All her attentions were on a Teddy, and she stepped towards it, coaxed by it; and she wanted it for herself. She wanted to hide it from the world, like a unspeakable secret. It was soft against her fingers, and she suddenly realized she was holding it. In her haste, she almost dropped it, but her grip became stronger. If one could see her, Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black, holding a teddy! Ha! Imagine the scandal, the laughs! She turned her head, looking for her preys again. Something took hold of her thigh and she dropped her gaze. « Mama. ». The teddy bear escaped and seconds later, touched the ground. It was the monster, with dirty blood, one of the people she hated most, and while her heart was breaking in her chest, she couldn't hate her. Not her. Not her niece.
Thoughts?
As a RPG, this will have a sequel obviously, let me know if you want to know what happens next, I'll try to translate it.
And just to be clear, Nymphadora does indeed call Bellatrix Mama, as she looks a lot like Andromeda, especially if you do not see her eyes.