Title: Long Forgotten Guilt
Length: 700 words
Summary: In the dead of night, Bellatrix stumbles upon a discovery; Narcissa watches her absorb the truth.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; J.K. Rowling does.
Author's note: I've always wondered what the relationship between Bellatrix and her mother was. This is not connected in any way to Shadow of Light. Written for xoxLewrahxox's Writing Challenge #36.
At exactly 1:13 in the morning, Narcissa Malfoy was awoken by the sound of sobbing.
Frowning slightly, she lay in bed, all too aware of the cold sheets beside her, where her husband usually slept. She spent the next few minutes trying to discern who, exactly, would be weeping at this time of the night. The Death Eaters had vacated Malfoy Manor earlier after the meeting, leaving only those who actually resided at her home behind. Draco was at Hogwarts, the Dark Lord had left some time ago on business (a fact she was all too grateful for), which only left…
She carefully slipped out, smoothing down her hair and grabbing a cloak from her wardrobe in order to look presentable, before marching out in order to search for the culprit of the noise. They came from Lucius' study, and as Narcissa silently pushed open the door, she felt her heart clench in pity.
Bellatrix was kneeling there, an age-old and yellowing piece of parchment clutched in her hands. Tears had stained it as it shook in her too-pale hands, but the letter was so old that they had little effect on the neat, flowing script upon it. Narcissa recognized it immediately, and sighed inaudibly. She could almost hear the writer speak the words on the page as they were written.
My dearest daughter,
With the passing of your father, I feel as though I must write to someone, to confide in them. I do hope that your marriage is satisfying for you; you always did seem happier about it than Bellatrix was of hers. Believe me when I say that I'm glad you're happy, and I really, truly did fight against Cygnus in the case of your sister. I know that Bellatrix despises Rodolphus; as a matter of fact, I do wonder why she didn't simply revolt against your father's decision, like…
I'm so sorry. I can't write her name. I know you will understand, Narcissa.
I have wanted, for so long, to see one of my daughters grow up somewhat independent of the legacy that bogs the rest of us down. Unfortunately, the only one to do so completely married a Mudblood, but that isn't who I wish to discuss.
Narcissa, you and I are both aware that I have often pushed Bellatrix away. I wanted her to be a tough girl, but I see now that that was a mistake. I have instead pressured her into grave danger, which I'm sure you will learn of soon enough. I'm afraid for her, Narcissa, and I hope you will look after her.
It will sound like I'm saying goodbye. I've grown ill, Narcissa; I loved Cygnus, and the world seems so much more desolate when I'm alone. You may understand what that's like one day, though I sincerely hope you never have to.
One day… tell Bella I'm sorry.
Love,
Your mother
Narcissa's gut twisted as it all came back. She never did tell her sister, and now Bellatrix had found out for herself. Straining her ears, she could just make out the whispers that were issued from her sister's throat, which were probably curses towards the woman who had always treated her coldly-
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Mother, I'm s-so sorry..."
Narcissa wondered if she should enter the room, and interrupt such a fragile moment. Rarely did her proud sister show humility, and she turned to leave, when she heard the next words out of Bella's mouth.
"I can't… hate you anymore… I'm sorry…"
Unable to resist, Narcissa turned once more to behold her sister, feeling a lump rise in her throat as Bellatrix crouched there, clutching the letter to her chest and taking deep, shuddering breaths. She had known that, while Bellatrix fiercely protected her like a guard dog, she was also jealous of the close relationship that Narcissa had with their mother. The blonde's memories of Druella Black consisted of hugs and giggles when they were gossiping, when her mother would do up her hair.
Bella's memories of her mother consisted of cold words and looks, depriving her of the motherly comfort that any child needed.
As she left, four words echoed.
"Be at peace, Mother."