My Sister's Keeper
By: Mortania.
A/N: My favorite characters tend to all be Death Eaters, and I like to picture Bellatrix pre-Azkaban as a beautiful, sophisticated witch who cared very much for her sisters, until she was betrayed by one of them and she felt like she failed the other. This story came to me a couple years ago and I finally just got to the point where I could finally write it.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns HP Universe, I just play with it. And tend to…change things, a little, if you must.
CHAPTER ONE: LETTERS & PHOTOGRAPHS
I had just buried my sister this morning, and now I sat in the middle of one of the enormous four poster beds which she and her husband had been sleeping in since they escaped Azkaban. Before I had pushed open the large doors leading to this room, a heavy burden seemed to be cast upon me, but it was nothing compared to what I would find when I walked into the room.
My older sister had never been the most organized of people, nor had she been the most logical. But, she had been my oldest sister-and that meant something to me. If it weren't for me begging Lucius to let her and Rod come live with us for the duration of the war-she would've been living somewhere obscure. I had requested that the House Elves not touch her room when she was killed, I felt it my duty to pick up the pieces of the life she had been living recently, only, it would be a matter of minutes before I'd have to pick up the pieces of her entire life from the moment she moved out.
When I walked into the room, instantly I was greeted with her clothes strewn all over the floor, draped across the sitting area, and tossed above the bed. Like I mentioned, she was never that organized. But the thing which stood out to me the most was that Rod's clothes were all neatly folded and in the drawers. Whereas, it looked like Bella had thrown things haphazardly into them. The room which she had been living in had four parts. A sitting room area, which one could close off from the bedchamber; the bedchamber itself with the armoire, nightstands, and a couch at the end of the bed; the little study area, which was in essence, a desk and another chair across from it with a few bookshelves behind the desk; and lastly, the bathroom.
Immediately, my attention was drawn to the desk and bookshelves. Hanging from the shelves themselves were newspaper clippings, handwritten notes, and letters. She'd kept track of things, quite methodically if I might add. Though a folder or scrapbook would've been a better idea, she liked to think in the open. Her room when she was a teenager had been one with photos, artwork, poetry, and posters all over the walls. Bella was and had always been somewhat of a rebel. But to the public whilst we were growing up, she was a lady. Her room only reflected the madness that Bella would become.
My gaze left the bookshelf and traveled over to the bed and nightstand. On the nightstand, a yellow envelope with her slanted, beautiful penmanship was leaning against the candleholder. My name written across the front. I picked it up and instantly sat down on the bed, which was unmade and looked as though she had just threw the coverlet back and walked out of the room moments beforehand.
Narcissa,
There's a letter folded up in the nightstand, I request you read it before you open the large envelope under the letter.
Your sister, Bella.
Naturally, directions were something Bellatrix liked giving. Father use to joke that Bella was a Chief commander and Andy and I were just following her orders. Sometimes, he was right. She was in charge, she was, after all, the oldest Black sister. Placing my hand on the handle, I opened the drawer with caution. Bellatrix was one for trapping things. I wanted to be sure she'd made this safe-I'd hate to lose my hand without knowing how to fix it because she wasn't around to counter-act it.
Unfolding the thick stack, I saw her elegant handwriting once more, this time, written with a dark purple ink. Bellatrix's favorite colors were those closest to blood and black.
Situating myself on the bed so I could read comfortably, I lit the candle and began reading while leaned against the many pillows still on the bed.
My dearest Narcissa,
If you're reading this letter, regrettably, I've ceased to exist any longer. Otherwise, you'd probably never lay sight upon this stack of parchment and you would never know the following things I'm about to reveal to you. Take heed, little sister, because this is a heavy burden to bare. I've always written this sort of letter every time the Dark Lord has called me. Not because I expect to die, but because I can't trust other people to not want to kill me.
My dear, sweet Cissy…I recall the day mum and dad brought you home. I remember looking at your messy light tuft of hair and how tiny your fingers were wrapped around my then four year old fingers. When you looked up at me, when I held you the first time, it was different from holding Andy, there was something about you that made me promise you I'd be there for all the most important days in your life. I vowed to take care of you. But, my little sister, it seems as though the role was reversed in the later years. For this, I apologize.
I'm not positive how exactly to begin this letter. What can I say to console you? What things can I possibly do to make you get over my death a little easier? I suppose I might give up that endeavor and apologizing for not being good enough, for not being strong enough, for failing to survive to protect you-and tell you the things which I never wanted anyone to know. We all have secrets. Everyone has skeletons which we try to keep in the closet. We have secrets we keep from others, and we have secrets which we keep from ourselves. The ones we keep from ourselves are often the ones we carry to the grave. Leaving everyone in our wake, clueless. Sometimes, this is best.
The secret I'm about to reveal to you, well, plural, secrets, are ones which I wanted to carry to my grave but can't handle letting all the monetary wealth Rod and I had go to waste-so here's the facts which will help you distribute that the way I see fitting. The secrets which you are about to read-could've ruined everything. My marriage, life, reputation, and others' lives. Dear sweet Cissy, this was a burden for me. One which I continually wished would end. My own little horror story that I knew not how to solve.
As you know, Rodolphus and I were married as soon as we finished Hogwarts. It was an arranged marriage, if you recall. One binding the names of Lestrange and Black together indefinitely. Our marriage was built on friendship, lust, a hatred of muggles and Muggleborn, and our loyalty to the Dark Lord. But Cissy, believe me when I tell you I always put the Dark Lord before everyone, including him. He resented our marriage. He wasn't a one woman type of man either. I was the worst sister on earth for this reason-I only felt I kept my promise which you were too little to remember by being in your wedding and present when Draco was born.
Do you remember the night September 19th, 1979 when I was in serious pain but told you that I could deal with it? I remember that night plainly. It was a night which I shared with a Muggle. One of the only nights I shared in the presence of a Muggle. She was twenty-two, had medical training, and just had a boyfriend. I found her at the top edge of a building just outside of the Leaky Cauldron. She was getting ready to jump from the building to her death. I dragged her off the roof and to a shabby motel on the edge of London.
That night, I gave birth, Narcissa. I know, no one even knew I was pregnant, and I preferred it that way. She was a beautiful child, Narcissa. Her hair was a brown color, and her eyes were Honey like Rodolphus' eyes. But I knew I couldn't keep her. I took one photo of her. That's all. Just one. I told the Muggle to take her far away and raise her as her own. She did as told, silently, she left the room with the child and I returned to the Lord's side.
The second birth, was one nine days after Draco. This was a birth which I had gone to Ireland to disguise. I had found an old family with Pureblood and gave her to them to raise. I named the girl, however, her name is Keaira Lucretia Narcissa. First and middle names, anyways. I sent the witch and her family money every year for Keaira. Rodolphus never knew of either birth or pregnancy. He would've been able to tell Keaira wasn't his.
Keaira had beautiful black hair, my stormy gray eyes, and the most beautiful features. The same night she was born, I was summoned to the Dark Lord. He was livid that I showed up late. I was given the Crucio curse until I couldn't breathe…yet, I still refused to tell him why I was late. Think about it, if I had told him that I had just given birth to his child, and handed her away to a quieter life-how would he have reacted? I have often thought about Keaira and the power she must possess. My sophisticated and beautiful looks and his power. Never had I thought about the first child, mine and Rodolphus' child-until recently.
There was another child, of course, but I'm unsure as to whether or not it was a boy or girl. The Aurors took it from me instantly when I gave birth to it in prison.
I cheated on Rodolphus almost constantly…until the Dark Lord vanished. The Dark Lord was incapable of love, this I knew-but lust-lust was something to do with power, with strength, with dominance, and he thirsted for those things. I searched for the Dark Lord out of lust, Rodolphus out of loyalty. He knew of my affairs, and said nothing, because I let him have his rendezvous.
The first child was absent in my thoughts until Potter and his two cronies showed up at the manor a few weeks ago…Granger reminded me of the little girl I handed over after taking one photo of. It frightened me and I shook it off because how could a child of two Slytherin alumni be a Gryffindor? It's highly impossible but very probable…research this for me, if you would. If she is indeed my first child, she gets a portion of the Gold in the account…which, still, though a small portion, is very hefty. I'm aware that as the child of Rodolphus and I she should get at least half…but you know as well as I do that if she indeed is my child and Rod's child she would've been disowned the moment the hat said Gryffindor.
Please, Narcissa, when you go through the envelope, remember me as your sister, not as the person I became after continually having my heart ripped from my chest.
I've also left my diary in the top drawer of the left hand side of the desk. Do what you will with it.
Always your Bella,
Bellatrix Lucretia Black Lestrange
As I put the letter down, I couldn't believe what my sister had divulged to me. Three children. Two girls and one unknown. This was a task she had left to me, and I had to keep my word and find them…to distribute the monetary portion of the will. I grabbed the photos out of the nightstand and turned the envelope upside down. The photo that landed on the very top of the stack after the enlarged envelope had dumped everything out, was the photo of a four year old Bellatrix holding me, a three day old Narcissa Black. Suddenly, the heavy burden I felt outside the doors made all that much more sense.
The only things I had left of my sister were apparently her letters, diaries, photographs...and something I would've never pictured her having-children.
