Summary: No one ever predicted that the Big Bad Wolf would win over Prince Charming. Bellatrix/Fenrir. Written originally in 2010, reposting & edited in 2014.
Once upon a time in an upside-down reality, Prince Charming lost to the Big Bad Wolf...
Rodolphus Lestrange scrambled his long fingers over the neck of his sleeping wife, soon pulling his hand away in disgust when he found a sickeningly purple bruise on her pulse, the marks of sharp molars prominent.
Not the teethmarks of a regular human being.
He flung himself back on the bed aside the woman angrily. There was nothing he could do. He knew who the culprit was, luring his wife and seducing her into his bed. If it was just some muggle, like the last time she had taken her sex life elsewhere, he wouldn't waste time in slaying the man in nothing but cold blood. No, his beautiful Bellatrix had taken her lusts to another level, a higher level.
Because this wasn't a fairytale, and in reality, Prince Charming didn't have a hope in slaying the Big Bad Wolf.
Not only was he probably the most savage werewolf he'd ever come across (and he'd come across several werewolves in his time), he was also the Dark Lord's newest favourite pet. Fenrir Greyback, though being a half-breed (something hated amongst most Death Eaters) had easily gained popularity amongst his new peers, namely by bloodshed, bared teeth and a knack for the killing curse.
Rodulphus used to privately admire Greyback's snarling features, his huge, canine-like molars protruding from drawn-back lips when he growled. He'd never had the chance to see Greyback during the Change, no-one did, really. He took a week off during the end of each month when the full moon was approaching, an unspoken absence, and no-one questioned it.
Bellatrix had never made her affairs that much of a secret. She knew that Rodulphus admired her far too much to let her go, and she never loved any of the other men, so it didn't matter when Rodulphus would flip out and kill them. It was better for her, in fact, because it prevented her affairs getting involved with her, therefore getting involved with her private life.
Not that any of her affairs ever did get involved.
The thing was, Bellatrix wasn't the only princess in this fairytale. She had a sister.
Narcissa was slender, beautiful, slim, tall and sported a long, shimmering length of white-blonde hair. Almost like a Veela. Bellatrix, on the other hand, was shorter, curvier, her eyes dark and wide, giving her a crazy, almost insane look about her, and her hair was unkept and tangled in a mass of thick black curls. Although both women had beauty about themselves, a different beauty, it was still apparent to onlookers that Bellatrix was much more the ugly sister than Cinderella.
But Narcissa only ever wanted that sneering Malfoy bloke with the long girly hair. Bellatrix, forever admirant of her beautiful sister, made sure Malfoy knew just how much he was getting by marrying Narcissa, and just how slowly and painfully she would kill him if he ever even cracked Narcissa's shining golden heart, or if one single tear, the product of upset from Malfoy, threatened to spill from her icy blue eyes.
So when Narcissa was long since married off to Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix was left. One princess down, one princess still awaiting her prince. Wizards who had wanted a part in the Black family tree swarmed from across various countries to see her, expecting the fairytale vision that was Narcissa, only to be dissapointed when they laid eyes on Bellatrix. The leftover. The backup.
Bellatrix didn't blame Narcissa. Cissy never wanted a part in this life, hell, she point-blank refused to have sex with anyone, leaving herself pure and virgin when she married Malfoy. Perfect. Bellatrix laughed when Cissy admitted this; both sisters were so far from each other, different, so completely unalike, it was hilarious.
There were some men. Crazy men. Men that Bellatrix wished she'd never let herself engage with. But she needed the experience. She needed to feel like they needed her. They didn't need her though. Ninety percent of the time they needed Narcissa. During sex, when she laid there on her back in the dark, her skirts pulled up around her waist, staring at the ceiling, her date wouldn't know her name. Or, wouldn't want to know her name.
"Nar..Nar..Cissy...nngh.."
And Bellatrix laid there in silence.
She couldn't deny jealousy of her sister.
Then Rodulphus came along, and he was in awe of her. At first Bellatrix thought she was joking, she laughed him away with a shake of her hand when he took her hand and asked her if she'd care to have dinner.
"I'm sorry, Mr...Mr..."
"Lestrange. Rodulphus Lestrange."
"Right, yeah. Mr Lestrange. My sister is long since gone and married to the Malfoy queer."
He blinked at her, looking dazed and somewhat confused.
"Excuse me, Miss Black?"
"You're here to ask out my sister, right? But she's married, so you're settling for me." Bellatrix smiled. It was a fake smile, Rodulphus could see that, disguising the pain, hatred and hurt behind it.
"No, Miss Black. I didn't know you had such a sister."
The smile was wiped off Bellatrix's face instantly.
"In that case, dinner it is."
But Bellatrix could never love Rodulphus. She was so glad, so happy that she had found someone who looked up to her, insisted she was brilliant and beautiful, but she didn't love him. Maybe it was the fact that she had searched so long for someone like this? Maybe. Maybe because just because Rodulphus seemed to be everything she'd ever wished for since she was in her late teens, and now Prince Charming had finally arrived, she didn't know what to do with him. Was she accustomed to dragons and cruel warlocks, that because Rapunzel had sat for so long in her tower, waiting for her prince, she had taken the scissors, cut off her long train of hair, and turned to the evil guards for comfort and love?
And now Prince Charming was here, she wanted the danger back.
For years Bellatrix lived under Rodulphus, their marraige continuing when they turned to the Dark Lord. It was during this period that Rodulphus began to realise that Bellatrix was searching for something more, something that he couldn't provide her. Rodulphus could be bad, could be evil, if that's what Bellatrix wanted; everyone had their dark sides. But underneath, Rodulphus was still the late prince, and the ugly duckling was bored. She may have blossomed into the swan, but she wasn't perfect, and no amount of pretty dresses and fine food could change what she really was underneath the groomed feathers.
Then Fenrir Greyback entered the circle of Death Eaters, and he was laughed upon. A werewolf? A half-breed? Becoming a Death Eater? It was unsaid that the majority of Death Eaters were Slytherins, therefore the majority of Death Eaters were pureblood wizards. What could Fenrir Greyback, big burly werewolf do to assist the Dark Lord and change the future for the best? Or the worst, as Lord Voldemort usually left trails of blood and defeat in his wake.
Greyback just grinned and smirked around his cloaked peers as he recieved his Dark Mark, promising to abide to the Dark Lord and be ever faithful. But fellow Death Eater's were still irratated by him. Letting in a half-breeds? Some Death Eater's joked that they'd be giving muggles the Dark Mark next.
Then Greyback created a scene from a horror movie, that made even the most cold-hearted of Death Eater's shudder. A junior playground massacre in under five minutes ended the humor that was Fenrir Greyback, and most Death Eaters began to silence in his shadow. He was more than what they could ever produce, that was for sure.
So it wasn't a suprise that Bellatrix was attracted to him.
It was like the Big Bad Wolf had turned away from Red Riding Hood and ran to Cinderella's castle, jumping over the coffin that hosted the comatose Snow White, brushing aside Sleeping Beauty and the sticky plaster on her pinky, ignoring the Little Mermaid who had sufficiently turned into a legged woman (after marrying the dashing Prince Eric of course) and burst through the doors of a big blue palace. But he didn't transform into a handsome stranger and take Cinderella's hand. No, he might be a Beast, but she was no Belle, and he wasn't turning into any pretty-boy Prince with blonde hair and blue eyes, and he definitely wasn't here for Cinderella, the Ugly Sister was the only one for him.
It was the Ugly Sister who did the transforming.
When Bellatrix met her Big Bad Wolf, and he kissed the princess, she started turning back into the frog. She lost the beautiful dress and perfectly applied make-up, well-trained mannerisms and high class way with words, and the Ugly reappeared.
Because he was Ugly too, and in any fairytale it's only natural for pretty to be with pretty. So this is the tale of what really happens to the leftovers in the Prince and Princess' shadows, what really happens to the Ugly.
Her nails digging into his broad shouldered back, his pointed teeth sinking into her pale neck, and Bellatrix felt like that empty hole inside of her had been filled. The space that Rodulphus, that her many affairs had never been able to fill.
It was unspoken, it was unusual, it was ugly. But it was the sick, sad truth.