Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter. Everything is J.K. Rowling's, unfortunately.
Witch-Wife
She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.
She has more hair than she needs;
In the sun 'tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of coloured beads,
Or steps leading into the sea.
She loves me all that she can,
And her ways to my ways resign;
But she was not made for any man,
And she never will be all mine
-Edna St. Vincent Millay
Stars and Stones
Chapter 1. Arrangements
Cygnus Black was no longer a young man. His hair, once raven coloured and thick, was now dark grey and thinning. His high forehead was lined and he had allowed the hair on his face to grow out in wispy grey curls. His health was ailing, his cough becoming stronger and more persistent, not responding at all to the potions his wife procured for him. Nevertheless, his wit remained whole and intact, as did his fortune.
Cygnus surveyed the man who sat opposite him. The man was of the same age as his own wife, somewhat younger than himself. He was a tall man, with dark hair and pale skin. His face possessed a strange look, there was something not quite right about it. He was dressed simply, in a black travelling cloak and black robes. Even to one as accomplished as Cygnus Black, this man commanded authority, and what might be called fear.
"You know me then, Mr Black?" The man asked as Cygnus offered him a drink, which he accepted graciously.
"You were a friend of Druella's at Hogwarts, were you not? We met on several occasions, I believe?" Cygnus replied, frowning slightly.
"We did, but that was many years ago now. Perhaps you have heard of my more recent... accomplishments?"
The older man smiled slightly and inclined his head, raising his glass towards the man "I wonder who of our kind has not, they are calling you the next Grindelwald."
"A man to whom you were the right hand in England, so I have heard."
The old man chuckled to himself, "My days of glory are long over sir. If you have come here to ask me to take up arms once more I am afraid I may have to disappoint you."
The younger man frowned slightly, "Pity, perhaps I have been mislead by the talk of your greatness." He hissed.
"You must understand sir, I am not long for this world. You have my full support in your efforts, I can perhaps even back you financially. But to ask a dying man to fight a war is to much, even for a dying man such as myself."
"That is fair," Said the man after a pause. "Disappointing, but fair."
"Had I any sons, my Lord, I would pass the torch to them, but alas, Slytherin has not blessed me so."
"No sons to carry on the family name?" The younger man asked, his tone more amused than disappointed now.
"Three daughters, but no sons." The man sighed. "The eldest is sixteen, and what a waste that she should be a girl, she has talent. At least I was not cursed with squibs." He was looking away from the younger man now, as though almost talking to himself.
"Perhaps your daughters will fight this war for you."
"Perhaps…" Cygnus mused.
"I should be curious to meet this eldest daughter of yours." The man said quietly. "If she is as talented as you say."
Cygnus frowned and refilled his drink, surveying the man sitting across from him. "She is a girl, my lord. Surely the place of a women is at home, their responsibility to produce and raise children, you must agree with this?"
"Naturally," The other man replied, "I meant no offence."
"No, no, none taken." Cygnus said hastily.
"I suppose then I have no more business here. I was hoping for a different outcome to this meeting. I had hoped that the Black's could be of more use to me." He stood and turned as if to leave, but Cygnus called out for him to stop. The man smiled to himself before turning back to face the other.
Bellatrix sighed as she gazed out the window at the violent winter storm that had not given up for three days now. The house remained warm, but looking outside sent shivers crawling down her skin.
"Mistress is ready now." The elf who had been perfecting Bellatrix' hair squeaked, and bowed low as the girl turned to gaze in the mirror.
"That will do." Bellatrix waved a hand and the elf disappeared with a pop. She examined her reflection with a halfhearted interest. Her black hair was curled and pushed away from her pale face. Her red dress was so tight around her chest that she could scarcely breath. She frowned, and tried to adjust the dress so that it was more comfortable. It was times like this that she wished she could have been born a boy.
There was a knock on her door.
"Come in." Bellatrix called, turning away from her frustrated reflection in the mirror.
The door was pushed open and a women wearing a royal blue dress entered the room. She smiled at Bellatrix and moved across the room to kiss her on both cheeks. "You look lovely." She said, taking Bellatrix's bare hands in her own gloved ones.
"Thank you mother." Bellatrix replied, rising from the vanity where she had been sitting, her mother reached out a hand to touch her cheek.
"You must come downstairs Bella," Her mother said, her low voice dragging with her slight French accent, "Everyone is here already, and I want to show you off. It is not everyday that we have a ball." She kissed the forehead of her eldest daughter again and turned to leave.
Bellatrix lingered behind her mother. The Black Ball was a New Years Eve tradition that had been established long before Bellatrix was born. Every year since then she had been forced to endure tittering from every elderly pureblood witch in the country about how much she had grown and what a lovely young lady she was becoming. In the last several years she had taken to disappearing early and finding a more enjoyable way to ring in the new year. However, her mother would not let her out of putting in an appearance. She smoothed her red dress and slipped her wand into the skirt. Slowly she crept from her chambers and moved through the corridor outside towards the ballroom.
No one in the ballroom noticed the young girl leave the party through a side door. No one realized her absence or wondered where she had gone. She knew that she would not be missed and she was rather grateful for the chance to escape. She slipped through the door, followed a long corridor and found her way to the back staircase that wound up to the very top of the manor. At the top of this staircase was a small circular chamber, barely five steps across in size, where she found sanctuary.
Once inside the room she let out a horrible sob and fell to her knees, her face buried in her hands. She lay on the floor of this chamber for what felt like hours, weeping into her hands. When her tears finally subsided she wiped her face and took a deep, shuddering breath.
Andromeda Black had tried all her life to accept what had seemed until now inevitable. As inevitable as death, yet much, much worse. As a child it had been easy to forget that one day she would be seventeen and she would marry that horrible man. Now seventeen was in two years, and she could no longer ignore her fate. She took another uneasy breath and once more tears escaped from her eyes.
She had felt sick at the sight of him. She had wanted to run away as his eyes lingered to long on her body that was no longer that of a child's. However she had stood quite still, unable to move, as he kissed her mother's hand, lavishing praises on her in French. When he kissed her own hand, Andromeda had looked away and kept her mouth closed, worried that if she did not she might scream.
She had never thought about what might happen if she said no. She had never argued that perhaps she should be more than just a spectator in the events of her own life. Her sisters had never seemed bothered by the idea of marrying men they did not love. Bellatrix would marry in a year, and yet she had never heard her older sister complain. Her younger sister seemed to almost worship the man to whom she was betrothed, Narcissa would excite at any mention of the charming Mister Malfoy.
As she sat alone in the circular room, Andromeda Black came to the realization that she could not, and would not marry Rabastan Lestrange. No matter how rich he was, what connections he possessed, or how pure his blood line was, she would not marry him. No matter if her sister was to marry his brother, no matter how much her parents disapproved. "I will be disowned." She whispered to the walls. The walls of the cold stone building did not reply. Andromeda felt more alone than she ever had in all her fifteen years.
Rodolphus Lestrange stood in a corner of the grand ballroom, holding a goblet of dark red liquid and observing the crowd. He had not intended to come, but his curiosity had implored him otherwise. He hadn't seen the girl to whom he was betrothed for almost six years. She would be grown up now, no longer an ill tempered child. He had returned from France six months previously, and had been meaning to find an opportunity to visit the Black family. The last six months however, had been to eventful too make time for such petty matters.
"Lestrange!" A man with long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail had addressed him. "My dear friend." The blond man offered a hand to Rodolphus, which he shook.
"Malfoy, a pleasure as always." Rodolphus replied quietly, looking as though he was not pleased to see Malfoy.
The man named Malfoy looked around discreetly, as though worried of being overheard. After a moment he leaned closer to Rodolphus to speak to him. "He is here," Malfoy whispered through clenched teeth.
Rodolphus raised an eyebrow, "He is here?" He looked past Malfoy and scanned the crowd.
"Not at the ball! He is here trying to recruit old Cygnus Black." Malfoy replied.
Rodolphus frowned, but their conversation was disrupted by a murmur from the crowd. Rodolphus turned and saw that a girl was descending the large golden staircase. She was wearing a blood red gown and looked as if she were not enjoying herself at all. Malfoy turned to Rodolphus, "You're a lucky man. I just hope the younger ones turn out half that tempting" The blond man chuckled.
Bellatrix was relieved when she finally reached the bottom of the staircase and everyone slowly looked away. Her mother caught her eye and smiled proudly at her daughter.
The ballroom had been decorated to portray a winter night, and shooting stars were dancing up at the ceiling. The floor had been charmed to look like ice, but remained as solid as usual. Snow appeared to be falling from the roof but it disappeared several feet above the heads of the guests.
"Bellatrix Black." The voice called through the crowd. Bella spun around and forced herself not to roll her eyes when she discovered who the voice belonged to.
"Lucius Malfoy." She sneered.
He bowed and kissed her hand, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You look stunning, as always, Bella." He complimented.
"Thank you Lucius." Bellatrix said, attempting to retrieve her hand from his grasp.
"Oh, you're not getting away that easily!" Lucius teased, not releasing her hand.
"Lucius, if you do not let go, I swear.." Bellatrix threatened.
Lucius let go and straightened up. When he spoke again his tone had changed, "Dance with me, Bella." He pleaded, and the pathetic look of longing on his face was enough to make her laugh, which she would have done, had they not been interrupted.
"Miss Black." She turned around and saw a tall handsome man. He had long auburn hair that hung in waves around his face. "You probably don't remember me," The man said, "My name is Rodolphus Lestrange."
Bellatrix's eyes widened in surprise, she had indeed not recognized Rodolphus. She had not seen him for years, she could not even remember the last time she had met him. She had never before noticed how handsome and well built a man he was. She stared at him for a minute, realizing that this man was soon to be her husband. After a moment she gathered herself and smiled sweetly at him, "Of course I remember you sir, how could I not?"
Rodolphus smiled back at her, "Would you do me the honour of a dance, Miss Black?" He asked, extending his hand to her.
Druella had been avoiding her sister in law all night. Yet Walburga Black finally cornered her by the ice bar. Walburga's grey eyes appraised Druella's appearance before she smiled coldly.
"My dear sister." Walburga simpered, her ashy hair had been pulled back in a harsh bun and she wore simple black dress robes. "What a lovely party, as usual." She did not sound impressed but Druella forced herself to smile back at her.
"I am delighted that you could come." She answered, "You are well?"
"Oh very well indeed." Walburga simpered, "Your daughters look lovely."
"Thank you. How are the boys?" Druella asked, knowing that Walburga prided herself on producing male heirs to the family name, something that Druella had failed to do.
"They are in perfect health." Walburga smiled proudly. "You will come see them before the holidays are out, won't you?" She asked, "And bring dear Narcissa and Bellatrix of course."
Druella forced herself to continue smiling, ignoring Walburga's obvious oversight of Andromeda, her middle daughter. Their relatives had been cold towards Andromeda since she had been sorted into Griffindor. "Of course. Please enjoy yourself tonight." She nodded her head to her husband's sister and turned away quickly. Spotting a man with long blond hair across the room, she made her way through the crowd.
"Ella!" The man exclaimed upon seeing her, taking her hand and kissing it.
"Abe, I'm so happy you're here." She smiled at her old friend, "You're one of my few guests that I can stand to talk to." She added more quietly.
Abraxas Malfoy laughed and offered her a drink.
"Is Lucius here?" She asked. Abraxas nodded and pointed out his son across the room. Lucius was a younger version of his father, with the same blonde hair and grey eyes.
"Your daughters are stunning." Abraxus said.
"So I've been told. Perhaps they are stunning, but my relations still believe that I am a failure for not producing a son." Druella replied sourly, taking a long drink from her goblet.
Abraxas chuckled, "Walburga and Orion have sons to carry on the Black family name. You have three beautiful daughters to make respectable marriages."
Druella raised her glass to him, smiling, "To the day when our families will be one." She toasted. He nodded and took a sip from his goblet.
They were silent for a moment before Abraxas spoke again, "I wonder if you have heard of the meeting that is currently happening between your husband and another of our... old friends?" Abraxas whispered, leaning closer to Druella, as though he did not want anyone else to hear them. Druella's smile faded and she almost dropped her wine glass.
"You can't mean.."
The blonde man nodded
"He-he is in my house, yet has not asked to see me?" She stammered
"The dark lord is a busy man, Ella, he has important business with your husband."
"Of course he does." Druella whispered, her face had fallen into a scowl that made her look older than she was. "I'll talk to you later Abraxas." She turned and disappeared through a door in the wall
Lucius watched Bellatrix walk away with Rodolphus Lestrange and a wave of hatred shot through him like a curse. Although Lestrange was a well learned, and most likely highly experienced man, Lucius knew he did not stand a chance against the temptation that was Bellatrix Black.
What did it matter anyway, he frowned, turning and walking across to the bar to get himself a drink, Bella and Rodolphus were getting married. There was no way that he could ever have her all to himself again.
But he had had her, and he had loved her. Since she was fifteen he had found himself caught in her web. It was wrong, and he knew it. He was promised to her younger sister, but when the elder was so tantalizing, so perfect, how could he resist? He had fallen in love with her, and as in many tragic stories, she had not the slightest intention of loving him back.