A passionate woman
Bellatrix Black Lestrange was a woman derided form life. This is her confession.
What is love, what is life and what is friendship?
I always used to ask such questions to myself. I was a little girl, playing with the words, unable to accept or take anything for certain. I always needed proof; I always wanted to search further, to find the deeper point of things.
And then I've grown up and my world changed. Everything got too complicated and there was need for my acting not my thinking. I left aside all those childish worries and thoughts and devoted myself to my purpose. Whatever that one was.
I was too young. I didn't know- I couldn't know. I was taught how to be obedient, how to be proud of what I was. A witch. Grateful because my blood was pure. So I was.
I loved life. There was a period that I actually loved life. I know you laugh at this. I know you are unable to believe that I ever knew what love is. Me, the crazy one, the one who was lost, mad, forgotten. I, who killed and tortured and showed no mercy and enjoyed what I was doing. Who could I know?
But you don't understand. You would never understand. You weren't like me. I wasn't Andromeda, careless and spontaneous. Neither was I Narcissa, who somehow in the middle of this madness was able to find a glimpse of happiness in that child.
No, I was Bellatrix, the elder one, the stronger one. I was the example. Have you ever felt that pressure on your shoulders? Have you ever known your family's disappointment? Well, neither had I. they would be proud of me. That was the only thing I was thinking in every step of my life.
But still no matter what I did later, no matter where my actions led me, there was a period where I loved life, not only mine but every form of it: it was my childhood years. When everything was a game and Mudbloods and Blood-traitors were far from me.
Now that I am actually thinking, now that I am remembering and all my life flews in front of my eyes I can see that I haven't truly lived. Never did what I wanted, in the way I wanted, although I always thought I did. I've lived at the fullest without really living. How crazy is that?
There is, however, one thing for which I never regretted. I still don't. There are some things, some moments in this chain of lies that I actually lived. There are things others never meet in life and I did: I found love, I felt heartbreak.
I loved my husband. Deeply. Maybe because he is what I see when I look at the mirror. He is me. Like me. And what else would there be for someone as selfish as I am, than love him? Passionately.
Twisted, you may say. What kind of love is that? She loves her partner in crime, her assistant in killing and torturing. But you also call me twisted. And I have to tell you that this world is twisted and sick. Nothing is right. Everything is confused and we are all unable to focus, to choose. To move.
This is what love was for me: apprehension and passion. Compassion or forgiveness were needless. He was my partner; he is… -is or was? I can't tell any more. What I can tell you is an assumption I made after all these for love; Love is different for each one of us. We get what we need. Or to say what you'd like to hear; we get what we deserve.
My heart is too cruel to break. But it did once before as it does know: when Andromeda left. I was so angry! How dared she! Who did she think she was to leave behind our family's traditions and run away with that… scum?
My anger may was big but my pain was bigger. How could she leave us? Didn't she care for the family name? Didn't she care for our parents who felt hurt and full of shame? Haven't I and Cissy meant anything to her?
That made me even cruel. I became his most faithful and devoted servant. To every Muggle I killed I saw her. I was taking my revenge slowly and forever. And that pleased me. I am not Narcissa… I can't forgive or forget. I'm a person full of passion. I found salvation in hate.
Heartbreak is another twisted thing, as love and life are. You never know where it would lead you. But now I know. It leads to death. For me at least.
Like I said everything is different for each one of us. Because we are all the same. You and I are the same. You think I'm insulting you? I'm basically insulting myself by comparing me to Muggles and Mudbloods.
I don't regret for anything, I don't hope in anything. I am who I am.
A scream was heard. Was it actually the Dark Lord the one responsible for it? It doesn't matter anymore. Not for her. Bellatrix Lestrange closes her eyes forever; she is finally free.
Written for Round 2 of "The Challenge That Must Not Be Named" Contest in HPFC.
Prompt: Define love, hate, or heartbreak throught out your fic. As either ongoing dialogue between two characters, or as a characters thoughts.
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