Disclaimer: I own seven Harry Potter books, but not their royalties and rights.
There was dust on the keys. Bellatrix blew on them, but when that didn't work she wiped them down quickly with her sleeve. She didn't mind getting her sleeve covered in dust and grit: she was never one for staying pristine and clean.
The piano in Malfoy Manor hadn't been touched in years. Narcissa had opted for a violin when she was a little girl, and never learned. Lucius had once played (and very well too. It was part of Narcissa's initial draw toward him) and Draco had begun to learn, but the Dark Lord stopped all that. There were plans to be made, spells to learn and teach, innocence to be slain. There was no time for something as silly as music.
War has a way of stopping the music.
But Bellatrix had once played the piano, almost as well as Lucius. When she was a girl, her mother had forced the instrument upon her. She had hated it at first, but grew to love it when she realized what a versatile instrument it was. It could sound loving and soft, but it could also sound wild and tempestuous. It all depended on the musician, and the piece. And Bellatrix liked that freedom of decision.
The dark-eyed murderess sat down on the bench, and pressed her feet gingerly against the pedals. She played a rapid scale, first in a simple major key, then in an eerie minor. She giggled slightly to herself, plunking at the keys in a slightly random fashion (half expecting her dear dead mother to come around the corner, shouting at her to stop messing around and practice the damn piece).
Below her feet, Bellatrix heard the creaking sound of hinges. Looks like someone's feeding the little animals in the cellar, she thought. What should I play?
"... Luna? Why are you covering your face..." Came a voice from the cellar.
Oh, what was that one song? I heard someone sing it once, such a pretty melody... How did it begin?
"Oh my god... What has she done to you...!"
Ah. I remember now.
Bellatrix began to play, softly. Her left hand played a simple chord, keeping time with the beat. Her right hand played a pattern of notes again and again, a gentle, haunting sound. After a few measures, she began to sing quietly.
"She told me not to step on the cracks. I told her not to fuss, and relax," the dark woman smiled, lost in her sick memory. "Pretty little thing stopped me in my tracks. But now she sleeps with one eye open. But that's the price she'll pay."
The price she'll pay for being so lovely and helpless, Bellatrix thought. I'm not to blame for what happens to her. She's the one who tempted me, not the other way around. It's her own damn fault.
"I took a knife, and cut out her eye. I took it home, and watched it wither and die.. Well. She's lucky that I didn't slip her a smile! That's why she sleeps with one eye open, oh, oh oh! But that's the price she'll pay."
I'll bet that little dear DOES sleep with one eye open... She never knows when I'm going to come back, now does she?
The music's pace increased, and Bellatrix began to really play. Her hands and head fell into a swingy, jazzy sway, and she closed her eyes. Lost both in thought and in the music. Her voice shifted from a sweet, breathy sound to a low, syrupy tone.
"I said, hey. Girl with one eye. Get your filthy fingers out of my pie... I said hey!" Her voice jumped on that word. "Girl with one eye! I'll cut your little heart out, 'cause you made me cry."
Untrue really, the brat's never made me cry. Sort of the opposite, really. Though I'd like her to stop tempting me. Merlin, why does she make me feel like this? I HATE her! I'd like to kill her, but the Dark Lord says we need her alive.
"I slipped my hand under her skirt," Bellatrix could barely spit out the lyric from trying to choke back her sudden laughter, remembering the little wretch's terrified expression. "I said don't worry, oh oh, it's not gonna hu-u-urt! Oh! My reputation's kinda clouded with dirt. That's why you sleep with one eye open, oh oh! But that's the price you pay."
The little darling's so pretty when she's frightened...
There were more voices coming from the cellar, but Bellatrix couldn't hear them. The music was loud now, her fingers flying across the keys. The piano was obeying her now, taking all of the broken woman's rage, fear, lust, glee, and madness and transforming it to song right before Bellatrix's eyes.
If she'd looked up right then, she'd have seen Draco standing in the doorway, watching her. He watched his aunt pouring her soul into the song, and he pitied her.
Perhaps if he knew what she'd done to his classmate, he'd feel a bit differently. Or maybe he wouldn't. It's hard to know what he feels and what he doesn't, this poor young man who almost learned to play the piano.
Bellatrix repeated the chorus. "I said, hey. Girl with one eye. Get your filthy fingers out of my pie. I said hey! Girl with one eye! I'll cut your little heart out," Bellatrix over enunciates the T sound in 'out', followed by a long, silent pause. When she resumes singing, it's so soft Draco can hardly hear it. "'Cause you made me...
Bella Black, she thought to herself in her mother's cold voice. You are going straight to hell.
"Cry! You made me cry...! You made me cry... You made me cry..." As though on cue, Bellatrix began to sob as she sings the word. Tears streamed down her face, and she was unsure if they were from sadness, guilt, anger, fear, or just because she was mad and didn't need a reason to.
And Draco left the room, unable to listen to her agonized music anymore.
Again, softly, she sang. "I said hey... Girl with one eye..." Bellatrix's tears dripped from her cheeks onto her hands, playing just as they did when she first began the song. "Get your filthy fingers out of my pie. I said," But instead of saying 'hey', the next word in the lyrics, she banged her fists on the piano. It reacted with an angry sounding jumble of notes. "Girl with one eye. Get your filthy fingers, out of my pie!"
Bellatrix was screaming the words now, repeating the chorus over and over again. Her playing was strange, a combination of beautiful music and random missed notes, giving the whole thing a wild, frustrated overtone.
(Lucius would have said she was missing the proper notes because she wasn't that good at the instrument. But Draco would have known what Bellatrix was really trying to say through music).
Little blonde viper. Little slut! It's her fault I'm missing the notes. It's her fault I can't sleep at night anymore. It's her fault! She did this to me! She must have!
"Bellatrix."
The woman at the piano spun around, abruptly stopping the song to face the doorway. It was Narcissa, and the front of her robes were stained with blood, drying into thin, crusty streaks. Her hands were on her hips, and her expression stern.
Oh goodness, I forgot how much she looks like Mum.
"What the hell did you do that to the Lovegood girl for? She's lucky you used a knife, if you'd have cursed her eye out I'd have never been able to fix it. And she's nearly catatonic about something else too. Did you touch her, Bella?"
Bellatrix turned away, pouting. Her dark curls shielded her face from view as she muttered petulantly, "I didn't do anything too permanent..."
Narcissa bolted across the room toward her elder sister. Bellatrix's head swiveled back in alarm as the slim blonde suddenly towered over her. Narcissa grabbed Bellatrix's upper left arm in a painfully tight grip. She was surprisingly strong for being so small, and though Bellatrix could easily fight her off she was too stunned to move.
"Don't. Touch. The girl." Narcissa snarled. She was nose to nose with her sister, her teeth gritted. Then she threw Bellatrix's arm away from her, and it hit the piano. Jumbled notes rang throughout the air as the dark haired woman tried to regain her balance on the bench. When Bellatrix looked up, massaging her now aching elbow, Narcissa was gone. She began playing the song again, singing the chorus under her breath one last time.
Stupid woman, and her stupid motherly instincts. She doesn't know. She doesn't understand how much I hate her. And yet I want her. How is that even possible? To hate someone, but desire them so.
Sometimes, when we cannot do what we want to somebody, we project that feeling onto somebody else. We cannot take out our anger and lust on the one we really want to, so we take it out on someone else instead.
Filthy brat! She's made me like this. She DID make me cry. She's the reason I can't concentrate anymore! She's the reason I'm always alone. She's the reason I'm living this hell!
Sometimes, we can't even see that a person we love is slowly killing us. We blame others, blame those weaker than us, and exact our revenge upon them instead.
If I am as mad as they say, it's because of her. I gave up everything for her! I sacrificed and worked and suffered! But she never notices!
Sometimes, we blame others rather than admit how weak we really are.
I spent fourteen years in Azkaban for her!
For her, Bellatrix? Or for someone else?
... Is there someone else you'd subconsciously like to kill, Bella?
"I'll cut your little heart out. 'Cause you made me cry."
This is dedicated to DarkJuliet. The song is Girl With One Eye, by Florence And The Machine (their album is called Lungs). If anyone thinks this should be rated higher, message me and I will. I don't think it's terribly explicit.