Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter series.
Cigar Smoke and Sons
~:~
1968
Daughter sat on father's lap, oblivious to aging hours as her long green gown spilled to the floor and his cigar filled the room with smoke. Bellatrix spoke her mind too confidently, and Cygnus tolerated his eldest daughter in a manner too close to fondness for a child that would not carry on his name.
After the wee hours of another taste of society, they fell into the weary happiness of the powerful and wealthy. By all accounts, Bellatrix had indulged in too much drink and dance over the course of the evening. She would have slipped from his lap had he not been wrapped so tightly around her finger.
Druella entered briefly, only to scold, not to understand this affection Cygnus harbored for his eldest daughter. Bellatrix was wild. Bellatrix disobeyed the rules. Bellatrix behaved crassly. Bellatrix was a daughter.
"Oh, but she has gusto enough to be my son."
Bellatrix lingered lazily somewhere between Cygnus's smirk and Druella's glare.
"And your approval of her impropriety only encourages her further to behave thus."
"Surely, Bellatrix's behavior will not be swayed so easily as that?"
Druella sniffed in her oppressive manner and it must have been too much for Bellatrix, who slid from her father's embrace to sprawl on the floor, tangled her dress in laughter.
With the sharp click of heels, Druella shut the door behind her.
Cygnus stroked his chin, as one who considered the world thoroughly. He found everything terribly interesting, though his environment and social position affected within him an attitude of blasé. Bellatrix alone threatened to interrupt Cygnus's careful station of detachment. Cygnus rested a finger on the bridge of his nose, examining his social-crisis of a daughter.
"You ought to heed to your mother, Bellatrix."
Bellatrix rolled over, propped her chin in her palm, raised an eyebrow.
"And lose the respect of my father?"
Bellatrix challenged Cygnus with an impish stare, and when satisfied with her victory pushed herself from the floor. Perhaps he was tired, perhaps he was too indulgent as Druella warned, but Cygnus couldn't bring himself to scold Bellatrix as she yawned without covering her mouth.
"An absolute bore of a party," Bella said. "Pity you had to put us through that."
Cygnus knew any lectures on the expectations of society would be lost in Bellatrix's unyielding perception of the world.
Bellatrix would continue to issue complaints even if Cygnus held that only a wandless man complained about his situation. Bellatrix held that, seeing how she was not a man, she was allowed to complain. Besides, complaining wasn't so bad if she intended to do something about it, which, Bellatrix assured Cygnus, she did.
Bellatrix poured two glasses of goblin-made wine. She flopped onto the chaise lounge opposite her father and levitated one glass toward him.
"Concentrate," Cygnus muttered, as red liquid threatened to spill from the chalice. No sooner did his fingers wrap around the floating glass than did Bellatrix summon his cigar case with a flick of her wand.
Cygnus stared at his daughter, curiosity overtaking Druella's nagging voice in his head.
Bellatrix noticed his look and became defensive.
"I like the sensation of breathing fire."
"And as for your imbibing?"
Bellatrix paused, always precise in her answers to her father. She smiled suddenly into her drink.
"The wine makes the sensation easier to believe."
Cygnus chuckled at his daughter's cleverness. Still, he warned her, "If you indulge yourself much more, Bellatrix, sensations will be all you have."
"So says you."
"So says I," Cygnus agreed, ending the conversation.
Cygnus practiced the art of ending every day with wine and cigars. The little girl soul that Bellatrix had not yet managed to stifle out of herself followed her father, and thus she did likewise. The sight of Bellatrix settling her smoke induced cough with small gulps of wine was Druella's chagrin. But not so for Cygnus.
He wasn't a sentimental man, so he didn't recognize Bellatrix's endeavors as dedicated mimicry of himself. But Cygnus had once wanted a son so badly, and there his eldest daughter stretched herself on a chaise lounge and swore dragon's fire because she wanted to and didn't give a damn because she could. Smoke haloed his daughter's head like a crown, and Cygnus knew Bellatrix would someday be a queen, that she would rule fiercer than any son.
Author's Note: The relationship between Bellatrix and her father has interested me for a while, so I thought I'd try writing something on the matter. I plan to post a snapshot from every year their lives overlapped in no particular order. I'm following the years listed on JKR's Black Family Tree. Thus, Cygnus lives from 1929-1979, Bellatrix being born in 1951. Let me know what you think of the idea!
