The First Annual Jingle Bel's Sweepstakes!
The First Annual Jingle Bel's Sweepstakes! Every Christmas you will be able nominate and vote on a chapter-length short story in the Belladonna Black Universe to be released on Christmas Eve.
A Jingle Bel's Christmas Story
Surprises
The dank walls of the cell closed in around her as she shivered on the hard cot that stood only a few inches above the floor. It must be nearing sunset, the last vestiges of warmth were starting to leech out of the western wall. It was closest—albeit barely—to the outside world, and sometimes she thought she could feel the sun through the stones. But perhaps she was just imagining things, something that happened far too often lately. She used to scream at the dementors, but only the newly arrived bothered to do that. Now she only screamed at the infrequent human visitors. Watching them flinch back against the far wall was one of the only pleasures she had left. Last time one of the Aurors had walked past her cell she hadn't bothered.
Suddenly, what was left of her muscles tensed, and she shrank against the stones. A dementor was gliding down the hall toward her cell, she could hear the screams of the others farther down. With effort, she turned her head away from the bars, but nothing could stop the dementor from draining what was left of her. Ironically, it had become less painful as the years wore on. There isn't much left to take, she thought as her eyes drifted closed.
Hours later, she turned her head to see the small tray that contained something that could charitably be called food. The witch decided that she couldn't be bothered. The tray lay abandoned on the flagstones, accompanied by several others. An explosion rocked her cell followed by indistinguishable shouts. A rescue hallucination, she thought dully. It must be a good day. Funny, it doesn't feel like a good day.
Running footsteps and the snap of robes rang down the hall finally stopping in front of her set of bars. "I found her," the man shouted, the dull light glinting off his silver mask. More footsteps followed by another man outside her cell. The bars of her cell disintegrated with a sharp crunch, and the second figure stepped fully into her field of vision. It's one of those then is it, thought the witch, still not bothering to move as he crouched beside her.
"Bellatrix," he asked, followed by a more concerned "Rix!" She only blinked back at him, startled by the sudden wandlight.
Bellatrix…thought the witch. That used to be important. She still didn't move as she was lifted from the cot and into the cold night air. There was no point.
The feeling of falling woke Bellatrix from her dark dream, and she rolled out of bed, nearly stumbling over the haphazard pile of dirty robes from last night's raid strewn across the floor. The witch rushed across the room, and through the adjoining tiled room and managed to make it just in time to retch into the toilet. The effects from too many years stuck in Azkaban were always interestingly varied, but nausea was a new one. There seemed always to be one coming or going, and nausea appeared to be this week's delightful present from the hellhole. In another time she might have had other feelings about incidents like this, but that was one of the first things Azkaban had stolen from her.
After a few minutes, she stood shakily and leaned against the marble sink below her mirror. Surprisingly, she looked slightly better than usual, perhaps after a year and a half of freedom she was beginning to reclaim the last of the weight imprisonment had stripped from her. This was the third day she had not cast homenum revelio, against her mother's orders from so long ago about symptoms like these, but nothing the charm could tell her was something she wanted to hear. But Draco's work on the Vanishing Cabinet was finished, and she could not afford to be ill, today of all days. But of course potions could not fix that.
Bellatrix's wand twitched, and she could feel five heartbeats thrum through the house. The house elf's in the cellar, and two beating quickly down the hall. Rodolphus and one of his interminable string of mistresses. Her own, and one other, sharing the room with her. This is problematic, she thought as she tamped down the thoughts that threatened to send her spinning out of control. She had feigned madness in battle for so many years, most people hadn't noticed when it edged close to reality in the past year and a half.
The witch sank down onto her bed staring at the wall, but contemplating possibilities. Even blindsided, she had caught it early, only a few weeks. She could get rid of it, Cissy would help, although probably with a dishearteningly pleading look. This early, she probably wouldn't even need to fabricate an excuse for tonight. No one would ever need to know—Cissy would not even tell Lucius if she asked—and there were certain advantages to how she had been taught occlemency, long experience had taught her how to keep him out of certain parts of her mind. She could come clean, hear him out, and then do as she liked, an advantage few enjoyed. A long time ago, when the war had been almost won, she had once poured her potion down the sink and he had done nothing. She could conceal it—the mechanics of that would have to be worked out later—and hide it or give it up. Cissy had always wanted another child, but that would involve others. She could use the advantage of time, put it off a few weeks. Or I could keep it. Somehow.
She pulled yesterday's robes over her head, and silently eased her door open. The thick carpeting muffled her footsteps as she padded down the hall to the stairs, past Rodolphus's room. A woman's voice was slightly muffled by the thick wood of the door. I suppose I should be grateful that he doesn't care what I do, not that anyone would be stupid enough to object. But one would think he would have the taste not to bring them home with him. She didn't at least not when the oaf was home.
Seeing the look on his mistress's face the house elf scuttled out of her path to the door, taking his offer of breakfast with him. With the door firmly closed behind her, Bellatrix spun on the stoop and disappeared with a soft crack. The wrought iron gates of Malfoy Manor appeared before her. They swung open readily before her, as an almost member of the family she was guaranteed entrance. The house elf opened the door for her, but she cut short its traditional greeting with a curt, "Find my sister, and only my sister and tell her I need to see her quickly."
Bellatrix sat down on one of the leather chairs in the parlor for the few minutes it took Narcissa to rush down the stairs in some sort of fuzzy robe. She sat down on the couch opposite her sister about to launch a barrage of questions before Bellatrix cut her off. "I need your opinion on something, but only if you can do it without becoming overly emotional. Can you do that? Please," she said in a rush.
Cissy leaned forward looking concerned, "Are you dying, you don't look sick," catching a withering look from her sister, Narcissa continued, "Finally getting rid of Rodolphus?"
Bellatrix had to smile slightly at this before asking dryly, "And which manner of getting rid of were you proposing, Cissy, poison?" It was Bellatrix's turn to receive a withering look. "There are somewhat more pressing issues at the moment, but it's not outside of the realm of possibility."
Narcissa was looking more confused and concerned by the moment. "Either you're being intentionally vague, or I'm missing something obvious," the younger witch said with a calculating look. "Spit it out."
With her eyes locked on the plaster molding behind Narcissa's head, Bellatrix breathed, "I'm pregnant."
Cissy leaned back in her chair, considering her sister. "Exactly how sure are you," she asked skeptically glancing over Bella's thin frame.
Still pretending to be interested in the molding, "I revealed it," Bellatrix replied flatly.
At least she did something right, thought Narcissa before asking hesitantly, "I'm assuming it isn't Rodolphus's…"
Bellatrix's dark eyes flickered down from the molding to meet her sister's lighter ones. "Don't be thick, you know we barely speak. This couldn't have possibly happened at a worse time. How much longer do you think I have?"
Narcissa laughed. "It's not a death sentence Bella. A few more months before you're forced to stop fighting. Although you really should stop now, but I'm fully aware of how futile that request would be. If you really want my opinion, decide now if you're even open to having this child, under these circumstances, Bella. If you're not, get it over with quickly, and never tell another living soul," Narcissa said unhappily.
"That's not exactly the response I was expecting from you…" Bella said, looking at her sister curiously.
"I was working under the assumption that you already know what I think you should do. What you wanted was someone to tell you what you could do, what you already know." Narcissa replied testily. "I think you should deal with this like an adult. Tell him, and take advantage of those special privileges that you like to pretend don't exist."
"Why do you have to start making sense at the most inopportune times…" she trailed off, her pale skin showing a slightly green tint. Bellatrix froze for a few seconds as the bout rolled over her. She looked across the table unhappily at her sister, who was badly disguising a smile. "Exactly. How. Long. Does. This. Part. Last," she gritted out.
"A little over a month usually," Narcissa replied attempting to school her face into a sympathetic expression. "Unfortunately normal nausea potions don't seem to work on it."
"Thank you so much for your sympathy dear sister," Bellatrix replied sarcastically standing to leave.
"Bella, stay a while, please…" Narcissa called vainly after her as Bellatrix disappeared into the early morning light.
When she disapparated, Bellatrix did not have a clear idea of where she was going, an unrecommended approach that could have unpredictable results. When the world stopped spinning, she was in a familiar forest on the edge of a small pond. A lightly worn path led into the trees to a large house that had been abandoned for decades before Tom had found it. The ministry, the bumbling fools, had somehow managed not to find it in the years it had once again stood uninhabited. It probably helped that very few people knew how to find it, Bellatrix knew of no others. The start of the path was about as close as you could apparate to it, the house was just out of sight lost in the trees, and the rest of the approach had to be made on foot. The witch sat down on one of the large sun warmed rocks that some ancient glacier had strewn around the edge of the lake. She sat there for several hours, long enough to watch the sun rise across the sky, long enough for the last of the morning's mist to be driven off.
When Bellatrix finally stood, she began to walk up the path toward the house. It wasn't a long walk, most of the time it was barely noticeable, but today it seemed to take an eternity. But eventually, the trees petered out revealing the house. In another time it had probably been the manse of a forgotten estate, large and made of sturdy stone. Three steps led up into an arched stone entryway that shielded a heavy wooded door. It swung open at her touch, as it had done for years.
The narrow hall off the foyer led to the sun drenched parlor at the back of the house. He was pouring two glasses of red wine from a crystal decanter, passing one to her before sitting in the leather armchair across from her sofa. Bellatrix looked at the rich liquid swirling against the glass. It was the first thing today that looked remotely appetizing, and she raised it gratefully to her lips. But a hazy memory floated across her mind, a lecture from so many years ago. This was one of the things you weren't supposed to do, wasn't it. With a sigh of regret, she deposited the glass on the mahogany side table, before lifting her gaze.
Sharp eyes flitted over her, "Something is wrong."
She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "You were on the Vance raid last night, and yet, you're here before noon."
Bellatrix felt her eyes slide inexorably back to the ceiling. "As you are going to find this as ludicrous as I did, probably best for you to cast homenum revelio yourself." She forced her eyes back down.
Tom sat back in his seat, "Why," he muttered, but his wand appeared from nowhere.
Bellatrix felt the curious soft presence of the spell sweep through her.
"I didn't know it could do that," he said, expressionless.
"It's passed down from mother to daughter," she muttered. "Most people that write the books don't consider it important, and distance or too many other heartbeats can drown it out."
"You have always been free to live your own life…but are you here to inform me of a decision or am I to be allowed an opinion?" he was impossible to read.
"I won't raise a child alone, no child should be ignored like my mother ignored me before I was old enough to be useful." The bitterness still bled through her voice.
"Rodolphus may expect…"
"Rodolphus be damned! You know perfectly well that he hasn't touched me since our wedding night, and only then because our parents would have disowned both of us. I won't entrust a child to the oaf."
"Under other circumstances…You know this could not have possibly happened at a worse time." Bellatrix thought she heard a tinge of regret.
"Yes, the timing is inconvenient to say the least, but I doubt this miracle will ever come again, for either of us."
"I suppose that is the answer. Yaxley and Snape can handle tonight's mission without you, but I suppose Lucius must be fished out of Azkaban sooner than I had planned to tip my hand."
"Cissy said that I should be fine for another few months, Yaxley and Severus Snape? They will never be able to finish Dumbledore, it's too risky!"
"Yes, risky is the operative word. Perhaps other raids, but not this one. But you will have to be out of sight for a while. Even if all goes well tonight, others would want to see you and the child dead."
At least I don't have to leave now, and to be totally honest, I never expected to go tonight. I should have kept quiet a few more hours, better one night of risk than Dumbledore finding the child, and the old man would know, he always seems to know. But all Bellatrix said was, "If this is to be a secret, as few people will be told as possible. Promise me one thing, not Snape."
Tom sighed, "Severus Snape has never given us any cause to doubt his loyalty, but as you wish, not him, even though tonight is owed as much to him as to your nephew."