Even Death Has A Heart
They tell me I'm crazy.
And when they do, I laugh. In a crazy way. Because I know it more than anybody.
But here's the thing: It wasn't Azkaban that drove me to insanity. It wasn't dark magic. It wasn't the pressure of retaining such an intimidating persona. Oh, no, it was something far worse...
"You're engaged?" I sneered. "Engaged to be married?"
Narcissa looked offended by my response in only the snootily sophisticated way that she could.
"Really, Bellatrix, I don't understand why you find that so hard to believe," Narcissa said with dignity.
"Since when did you call me 'Bellatrix'?" I demanded, finding it strange for her to speak to me so formally. "Narcissa," I added sarcastically.
She went to open her mouth, either to correct herself or explain, but I was cutting across her, far more interested in what else I needed to say. "And I only find it hard to believe because last time I checked, you were dating Lucius Malfoy." I let out a derisive snort, knowing it would patronise her. In a messed up kind of way, it made me feel better.
My sister's pale, chalky face had now flooded with a crimson flush. "And now I am engaged to Lucius."
I could do nothing but cackle, knowing precisely how it would humiliate her and send her straight over the edge. In reality, it was all just a cover up.
The pain and struggle on Narcissa's face let me know that it had worked. I always knew precisely how to mess with my dear sister's head. "You're acting like a child," she hissed at me.
I composed myself, morphing the cackle into a condescending smirk. "Lucius Malfoy," I repeated. "And you're going to have to spend the rest of your life with him!" And before I could control myself, I was back to roaring with laughter.
"Bella, there is nothing wrong with Lucius!" Narcissa protested furiously.
I raised my eyebrows at her. "Other than the fact that he's completely boring, he's self-absorbed, he's dull, he's incredibly prissy"—I listed the points, counting on my fingers—"he's completely boring. He's"—I smiled at her sweetly—"perfect for you."
"He is highly sophisticated, with important connections, and a lot of money," Narcissa argued in her fiancé's defence. "And anyhow"—she blushed again—"I am in love with him."
Perhaps feeling I'd overdone the manic laughter, I refrained this time, but I couldn't let her get off that easy. "Love!" I spat. "Love!" But I didn't even know how to finish that sentence. The word tasted bitter in my mouth, and I resented the surge it sent through my veins. "Love doesn't exist," I lied, my voice quivering. "Love is for fools."
But this time, Narcissa was as perceptive as a Ravenclaw. It was her turn to raise an eyebrow at me, looking smug and demeaning my own character. "Oh, Bella," she laughed darkly, "you are a lot of things. You are dark and twisted. You are cruel and downright violent. You are conniving and immoral." She paused to flash me a smirk, matching the one I'd given her earlier. "And you are also a liar."
No time and thought for my wand, I lunged towards her, ready to swipe at her delicate face with my own claw-like nails. But she anticipated my movements, and she was quicker than me.
Clasping my wrists, Narcissa pinned my hands to my sides with a strength you would never expect from such an elegant frame. Part of me wanted to thrash about, hurl curses at her, or generally attempt to harm her in any way that I could, but the bigger part of me was curious and fascinated by what she had to say, and what observations she may have made.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said calmly, but it was too late because the damage was already done.
"You act violently for someone who claims not to know what I'm talking about."
I wanted to smack the arrogance straight off of her face. Once certain I wasn't going to hurt her as soon as she released her grip, my sister let go of me slowly. With her glassy eyes, she looked me up and down, and I couldn't help but think how different we were. To see the two of us together, you would not suspect us of being related, let alone so closely related as to be sisters.
Narcissa watched me with a wary eye. "Have you ever considered that you might not be completely sane?" she asked bluntly.
I cackled at her again. "So you think I'm crazy too? Join the club, Cissy. I'm clearly delirious," I said, my tone deliberately dripping with sarcasm.
Narcissa did not look amused, only concerned.
"My mental well-being has nothing to with this," I said viciously, after receiving no immediate response.
"They say that the one thing guaranteed to drive any person to insanity is love," Narcissa pointed out.
"I don't know who 'they' are, and I don't know why any of this is relevant. I told you once," I growled through gritted teeth, "love is for fools."
"In that case," Narcissa said slyly, "you're just as big a fool as I am, Bella."
I cackled again, though even I knew I had been unable to cover the hesitance. "I suppose you think you've got me all figured out, don't you, Cissy?" I demanded.
Narcissa watched, lacking any trepidation.
"You think you know what lies beneath my mask?" I winced at the sound of my own poetic expression. I was supposed to appear cruel and intimidating—as crazy as they all believed me to be. I wasn't as feeble as Narcissa was, weakened by the power of love. So how dare she imply that I was? Love did not weaken me; it tormented me.
"Bella, you can lie to me as much as you want, but you cannot lie to yourself forever."
"I keep no secrets from myself."
"Good. Then you know as well as I that you are... you are besotted by..."
"Say it," I dared in a quiet and serious voice. Narcissa knew my tongue was like poison. She knew I could destroy her if I chose to. Would she dare? Would she have the courage?
There was a panic in her eyes—an obvious anxiety. Her lips trembled but her words were clear and confident. "The Dark Lord."
Before I knew it, I was screaming, howling, lunging at her once more. Her pretty little face would receive neither kindness nor commiserations from me. I would end her right then. I would destroy her.
But something was keeping me back. An invisible shield prevented me from getting within an inch of her composed face. With a groan of frustration, I observed the wand in her hand. Narcissa was never a fighter, only a protector, and the Protego Charm had always been a speciality.
I was the complete opposite. And, foolishly, my wand lay by her feet, the side of the barrier that I couldn't access until she lifted the charm. I would have no choice but to talk with her. Confrontation was unavoidable.
"I am his servant. He is my master. The devotion you witness is something you clearly know nothing about—loyalty." I spat the word at Narcissa in an attempt to intimidate her, but the shield remained.
"Bella, your loyalty to him is beyond any human concept of a servant and her master. You are obsessed with him to a point beyond extremities! You are either insane or clearly in love with him!"
Why can I not be both?—I thought to myself. You have no idea...
"I am concerned for you, sister. This is dangerous. He will never reciprocate your devotion—he will only ever use you for power! You cannot get attached in such a way. He isn't human." Narcissa was whispering and looked over her shoulder anxiously, as though Voldemort himself were hiding in the shadows, ready to strike her down for any bad word spoken against him.
I hissed at her. "The admiration and devotion I feel for the Dark lord are beyond any pitiful sentiments you may have for Lucius Malfoy. Do not proceed to tell me what I can and cannot do! I will serve him as long as he needs me, and longer if I may. He is the bigger cause. He is the revolution this world needs. He is bigger than anything else we may live for!"
Narcissa shook her head with pity. "He cannot love, Bella."
"Even death has a heart," I retaliated. The words had slipped from my mouth without thought or consideration for what they may hold, but I began to realise how true they were.
Everybody loved.
If I was capable of love, then Voldemort was just as able. He could find it within himself. He was not human, it was true. He was torn into something I couldn't comprehend—something beyond any mere mortal. I was completely in awe of him. And if he had a heart, he too could be in awe of me, though never quite to the same extent.
Narcissa was ignorant to cast aside my reasoning in such a way. Though she more than anybody thought I was deranged beyond the point of return.
Even death has a heart.
She continued to watch me with the same pitiful expression, and simply repeated, "He cannot love, Bella."
Originally written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition—Round 13
Team: Wigtown Wanderers
Position: Beater 1
Additional Prompts: "Even death has a heart." – Markus Zusak, The Book Thief, and Therapy, All Time Low