A/N This is set about one and a half year after the preceding chapter. Bella is already married and not exactly happy. Warning: It is by far the darkest thing Iʼve ever written. And though there is nothing explicit here, Iʼm almost shocked myself at the content. There are references to suicide and abuse and if you think I should correct the rating, please tell me.
Furthermore, Iʼd like to stress that, despite giving Bella a tragic backstory, I still abhor her character in the books. And trying to explain how she became such a monster, does not mean excusing her. As Bella is a fictional character, this is not really a delicate matter, but I think it is something that applies to any tyrant by whom the world has suffered.
Hidden behind a tall, threatening stone wall, in the middle of a dead park, stood a tall country house, surrounded by old birch trees, which leafless branches swayed slightly in the cold night air. The moon bathed every part of the barren grounds and building its light could touch in a ghastly pallor. As magnificent as the sight of the house was, as clear it was - even in the eerie light of the moon - that it had seen better days. There were large cracks in the walls and the balustrade on the balconies looked as if they had to tumble down at any moment, only held in place by some invisible force or a miracle.
Despite these obvious marks of neglect, the house was not uninhabited; light burnt behind one of the large, gothic windows on the third floor. Should a bird ever dare to fly into the bleak park and up to this window, it would see into a bathroom of stately dimensions. And, like the house, the room would speak of a grandeur that had considerably decayed over the past few years though there were signs that someone had started to ameliorate the situation.
From the flames of the candelabra that were fixed on the walls, the ceiling had turned pitch-black and the silver handles and statues that ornamented the room had oxidized. Even so, had the bird known the room from some months earlier, it would have noticed a significant difference. The filth and dust in the room, emphasizing that the owner thought little of cleanliness, had been removed from the floor, basins and bath. As an even greater surprise, the bird would have seen the bath - a large, almost pool-like construction, that nevertheless was born by its silver lionsʼ feet - in use, what anyone recalling the state of this item some months previous would have deemed impossible.
But back then, the bird would also not have been able to see the occupier of the bath, a creature that contrasted most egregiously with her surroundings. The bird, no judge of human beauty, would not have cared long for the sight, but a human eye would have taken in the strangeness of this appearance.
The woman in the bath, although woman seemed hardly appropriate as she hardly looked like twenty, was of a beauty that might have befitted the house when it was newly built, but now was oddly out of place. And yet, no matter how gleaming and thick her dark hair flowed over her shoulders, over the rim of the bath, no matter how perfect her nose was formed or her heavily lidded eyes were capable of expression or her strong chin gave her face character in addition to beauty, the womanʼs mien mirrored the deplorable state of the house.
Not only someone familiar with the house would have marvelled at the sight of the woman, also former relations would have been amazed upon seeing her face and the bitter lines that, despite her youth, had started to form around her mouth.
After a few months of marriage, little was left of the former decidedness and energy that had been known as the characteristics of Bella Black, the beautiful daughter from an ancient and wealthy family and the best student in her year, or probably the whole school.
But her schooldays were over and so was the belief that anything was possible. Brooding, Bella lay in the bath, her eyes closed, but no relaxation in her strained expression. No pleasant thoughts would come to her of late, she was left to self-reproaches of various kinds and abandonment.
Bella Black had left school with nine N.E.W.T.s, an admired emblem of splendour, revered like a queen. Her head full of ideas how to start into an adult life, she had returned home to be faced by reality. Her parents didnʼt want her to travel and experience adventures, instead she was informed of a proposal of marriage that - as her parents had made very clear - could not be refused unless she wanted to be a selfish, heartless girl and to bring unmeasurable grief and shame over her family.
Bella was as stubborn as her mother and - seconded by her younger sisters - resisted her parentsʼ threats, begging at least for another year before a marriage, at last even consenting to an engagement. Her mother couldnʼt be appeased by such a stratagem and when autumn came and her sisters departed for school, Bella couldnʼt hold up her resistance much longer and love for her parents forced her into agreeing to a marriage to Rodolphus Lestrange in the following winter.
She lived like in trance during the few months before the wedding. She let her mother arrange her clothes, her jewels, her dowry, nodding to whatever was said and avoiding as much as she could her future husband. She could have been comforted by the obvious admiration Rodolphus showed for her, and it might just have satisfied her vanity had he not been destined to be her husband.
She felt no solace when she considered that her bridegroom had a name with a long wizarding history and was in possession of a considerable property as well as a top-security Gringotts vault to which soon a large amount of money from her side would be added. She might even have been able to ignore the fact that Rodolphus was simply ugly. He was built short and stocky, had a void look and a wet pronunciation. Yet, this was not the only reason why she preferred him to be silent. He simply had nothing to say.
She could talk to him about nothing, not about the newest developments in Transfiguration, not about the right way to breed Venomous Tentaculas or the magical properties of the number seven, not even about Quidditch. All he knew, were some rather sinister hexes and he had already boasted with having applied Unforgivable Curses on some Muggles.
Now, it was not that she had any sentimentalities regarding Muggles. Bella had been brought up to have a very pronounced feeling for wizarding honour. But she saw little achievement in using what little magic one had on even weaker beings. She didnʼt need to torture anyone to feel superior, she simply was. She never had to doubt her superiority, certainly not in relation to her husband.
And this was what reduced her to the bath in the middle of the night, four months of married life with a man who was so inferior to her that she didnʼt know anymore whom she despised more, him or herself.
From far off, snoring warbled through the high room and upon a particularly loud grunt, Bellaʼs eyes flew open and - without looking - she reached out over the rim of the bath, searching the floor. She found the desired object, a small, silver dagger, and lifted it up, scrutinizing it as if she had never seen it before. Diligently, she placed its tip onto the middle of her chest and whirled the dagger around. The pain was piercing and distracted her enough to look at what she had done. A small trickle of blood flowed down, soon reaching the water and forming strange patterns upon her bosom. She ran a finger over the wound and licked it, tasting the bloodʼs staleness.
She rolled the dagger between her hands, now and then pointing it at a part of her body, but always letting it sink again. Sometimes she would turn her head to the door, glaring around the room, before she would press her hands on her ears and crouch together, trying to shut out the snoring.
During the first few weeks of her marriage, when she had spent her nights crying or with nightmares, she had often been on the verge of using the dagger against herself, or against him, it made little difference to her as she grew more and more tired, not getting any calm sleep.
When the exhaustion had been too great she had collapsed and spent a couple of days in bed, blissfully alone, always pretending to sleep when her husband came in though he then had the habit of keeping vigil at her side. During this time, she had yearned for a child, hoping to find at least some meaning in life again. But when she had recovered enough to do not have any excuse from staying away from her husband, she didnʼt bear the idea any longer of a child that was anyhow connected to that man.
Thus, she was reduced to spend her nights in the bath, pretending to be able to rub away the filth that was pestering her thoughts while her husbandʼs snores haunted her even in this little refuge. She tried to forget where she was, tried to float away in her imagination, being unbound and free to do as she chose.
But always, just as she was about to lose herself to her inner world, Rodolphusʼs snores would bring her back and fill her with the two desires that kept each other from fulfilling one - either killing her husband or herself. Night after night, she wavered between the two possibilities, finding first one, then the other more attractive, but always when she was about to act, her scruples returned. She had just turned nineteen, she was neither ready for death, nor could she imagine a life as a murderess. She was magically bound to her husband, she had no idea what would happen, should she try to cut herself free. And so she was what she had never needed to be before - scared.
On another snore the dagger clattered out of her hand to the floor and she hastily reached out for a piece of soap that, drying, was half fixed on the ground. Her nails scratched over the soap and she was half-panicking when she finally managed to get it from the floor. Hastily, she began scrubbing her body with it, not caring that she had done this already when she had first climbed into the water.
She rubbed the soap over her breast and thighs till her skin stung all over. Then she relaxed a bit and tried to form figurines under the water with what little remained of the soap. She lowered her body down into the water till it reached her chin, closing her eyes again.
It seemed easy to drown, almost natural. She wished for sleep, imagining how she would sink deeper and deeper until she was under the water and never had to open her eyes again. Inebriated by the fumy soap steam from the magically never cooling water, she pressed her cheek against the cool metal of the bath, her tired mind finally slipping away into unconsciousness.
ʻMistress?ʼ
Bella woke with a start. Her eyes opened on the large window and she saw the grey morning sky of another rainy day in May. She closed her eyes again. It had to be her imagination, but she was quite certain that, at Hogwarts, May used to be a far sunnier month.
ʻMistress?ʼ asked the quavery voice again.
Unwillingly, she sat up a bit straighter in the bath, turning towards the voice. The old house-elf of the Lestranges, a miserable, half-blind being, stood before her, trembling. Bella looked at the elf contemptuously, taking in a new burn hole in her filthy kitchen towel.
ʻYes?ʼ she asked haughtily.
ʻM-master requires the Mistress at b-breakfast,ʼ stuttered the elf, crouching away as if expecting a blow.
ʻIʼm not hungry,ʼ said Bella, turning pointedly and relaxing in the water again. Her words were perfectly true, she had not felt hunger ever since the marriage had been decided and only eaten out of habit. Looking at her fingers, she saw that they were extremely shrivelled from the night in the water.
ʻM-master says,ʼ stammered the elf, ʻthat he has important news for Mistress. M-mistress should come down im-immediately.ʼ
Bella straightened up again, hatred flooding through her body, washing away any cleaning effect the water might have had upon her mind.
ʻWhat is it?ʼ she snarled.
ʻM-Mucky doesnʼt know,ʼ whimpered the elf. ʻM-master says Mistress must hu-hurry.ʼ
ʻI have not the least intention to hurry,ʼ Bella spit. ʻIʼll get down when it pleases me. Now, get out of here!ʼ
The elf winced and swayed on the spot, the order obviously conflicting with the one she had received from her master. But Bellaʼs command had been too direct to enable her to argue any longer. Kicking herself and tearing the long ears, the elf staggered out of the room, her poor eyesight making her collide against the wall several times.
At another time, Bella might have taken pity on the elf, but fury still swept through her. She was determined to make her husband wait at least an hour. He would be angry and she had just condemned the elf to be at the receiving end of his bad temper. But she didnʼt manage anymore to feel for the elf, she was only disgusted by her husbandʼs treatment of his servant.
She had grown up in the conviction that true nobleness also involved treating an inferior fairly. Of course, this included punishing when a fault was committed, but it equally entailed to praise what had been well executed. That was why the Black elves could be traced back almost as long as the family. It was an honour for them to serve and they wanted their loyalty remembered by their severed heads, a reminder to their descendants to continue the faithful service.
Thus, Bella had tried to be kind to the Lestrangesʼ elf at first though there was little to laud in what the creature did. She had thanked her even when Mucky poured the wine on the table, the smudgy glass remaining empty. Yet, the creature didnʼt seem to grasp the meaning of kind words, always only flinching and tearing her ears, never allowing for any sort of conversation. The elfʼs cooking was horrible, her cleaning was non-existent. But then, she was in a state in which her life would long have ended, had she been a Black house elf. Mucky was the living proof how cruel it was to let house-elves live after they had outlasted their usefulness.
Bella slowly stood up to get out of the water. She had no intention of doing so to prepare to join her husband. But there was a risk that he would come looking for her and then she wanted to be properly dressed, certainly not naked. Her empty stomach lurched at the thought of him. She also remembered why Mucky was blind and this did nothing to increase the respect of her husband.
She and her sisters also had made fun of their house-elf like stitching insults on her towels. But it had been a light-hearted business and the elf even wore the towels on purpose because she knew it amused them. But what her husband and his brother had done was not a joke although he treated the story as if it were one. He had told her himself how he and his brother had used their motherʼs needles to pierce the elf with them, ruining one of her eyes permanently. Bella hadnʼt wanted to hear anymore details.
Insecurely, she walked over to the basin to spit in and to get the bitter taste out of her mouth by rinsing it. Her wet body shivered and she stumbled quickly to the place where she had placed a clean towel, wrapping it tight around herself.
She looked at her bony arms, she let her fingers travel down her ribs, every single one distinct and the bones of her pelvis almost cutting in her flesh. She had lost much weight, she wasnʼt used to be so unhealthily skinny. Feeling sick, she towelled what remained of herself, losing a considerable amount of skin during the procedure, before she put on her dressing gown.
Bella looked over the room. She had left wet traces on the floor and the water in the bath was still fuming. Sighing, she dug her hand in the gown and drew her wand to dry the room. She had always laughed at Dromeda for her obsession with household charms, these days she wished she had her sisterʼs talents, bitterly recalling how long it had taken her to make the bathroom habitable again.
Longingly, desperately, enviously, she thought about her younger sisters while she emptied the bath and wiped away what moisture remained on the floor. Sitting down and trying to get away remains of soap clinging to the tiles, she contemplated the darkened silver of the bathʼs feet. She could ask Drommy how to clean silver, but she didnʼt bear to think of the shame to seek advice on household spells from a little sister. Bella knew this was not reasonable, Drommy would never laugh at her, it was her own sense of dignity that forbid such a step. She was no complainer.
After all, Dromeda was the next to face the same fate, having little more than two years of school before her. And knowing her sister, Bella was sure that her parents awaited an even greater struggle than with her. Drommy was not more stubborn than she was, but she lacked the quality that had made Bella agree at last, solemnity. Bella had been deeply troubled by her motherʼs reproaches of ungratefulness, Dromeda was able to laugh them away.
With another sigh, Bella picked up her dagger and checked the room a last time before she waved the candles out and went over to her bedroom to get dressed. It was one of the massive advantages of a large house to have separate bedrooms though Rodolphus didnʼt allow her to lock the door to his apartment. Still, she had managed to keep him from her room - with the ensuing sacrifices - and therefore to establish in it an above average of cleanliness.
With Drommyʼs knowledge she might have achieved better results, but it had never crossed her mind at school that she should ever be bothered with cleaning. She had been so sure to be destined for higher tasks, mocking her sistersʼ more modest ambitions.
But even with modest ambitions, Bella couldnʼt see Drommy getting any happier than herself. Little Cissy, yes, it appeared plausible that Cissy could become happy with almost any husband if she was subtly enough introduced to him. And as Mother and her good friend Mrs Malfoy had recently been talking a lot of establishing ties between their families, Bella had lost no time in writing to Dromeda to either consider a marriage to the Malfoy boy or to talk Cissy into love with him. Reluctantly, Drommy had agreed to the second plan, as sure as she that Cissy would never dare to cross Mother. Family peace might be preserved if at least the youngest sister proved enthusiastic when asked to marry.
To escape her brooding, Bella quickly dressed, hid dagger and wand in her robes and started to pace the room, walking to and fro between the bathroom door and the window, not taking in her surroundings, only moving with such desperate haste to be doing something and, most of all, not to think.
The door to the bedroom was suddenly ripped open and Bella staggered to an abrupt halt to face the man standing in the doorway. Rodolphus Lestrange had never understood why it would be polite to knock before he entered a room, certainly not in his own house, and certainly not his wifeʼs bedroom. Thus, unwelcome as it was, his arrival came as no surprise to Bella and she immediately took a dignified stance to look contemptuously down at her husband.
ʻCome down, come down!ʼ he huffed without further introduction, beckoning wildly to her.
ʻI am unwell,ʼ said Bella coldly. ʻI will stay in my room today.ʼ
She demonstratively turned her back to him to walk to an armchair, but her husband hastened into the room, taking her arm.
ʻCome down,ʼ he repeated when Bella turned angrily. ʻIt is important, very important, come, my darling, come!ʼ
As he tugged at her arm, she dejectedly accepted her fate and followed the way he led. Yet, this didnʼt save her from him. He laid his arm around her waist, pressing her against him as they walked downstairs and leaning his head on her shoulder. Bella held her head higher to do not have to inhale his smell of rotten fish, bad tobacco and cheap Firewhisky. The eulogy of the toothbrush she had made a few days after their marriage had proved utterly ineffectual.
Eager to get away from him as soon as possible, she quickened her step while he rubbed his teeth against her jaw. He tried to change his grip on her, causing her to miss a step so that she slipped out of his arms and skidded down the stairs a considerable distance before she could stop her fall. Her heels smarted and she suspected that they had been cut open against the steps, but at least she had escaped her husband and before he could reach her she had got to her feet and run down all the way into the hall to the breakfast parlour, sitting down in her chair that was - thanks to convention - the one furthest away from her husbandʼs. The rest of his family was nowhere to be seen.
Rodolphus came into the room just as she was seated, falling to his knees before her.
ʻDid you get hurt, my darling? My poor sweetheart, are you in pain?ʼ
ʻIʼm fine,ʼ she said coldly, trying to prise his fingers from her thigh that he had gripped. Full of revulsion, she looked down at her husband. Their marriage would be so much easier if he was indifferent, but it was her misfortune that he doted on her, thereby only increasing her aversion.
Had he not fallen in love with her - or what he considered to be love - he would never have gone to her parents to ask for her hand and she would have been granted more time before an eventual marriage. But as he had asked and as her parents had been thoroughly satisfied by the venerability of his name and his fortune (that mostly consisted in admittedly very precious antiquities, stored in the Gringotts vault, and a house the Lestranges, despite their wealth, had been to miserly or uncaring to ever restore) she was expected to delight in a match that seemed to please every one but herself.
That he had asked her did not only infuriate her because it had put a rash end to her dreams, the main reason why she hated him for it was that he had dared to. She had been admired infinitely at school, but no one ever had had the audacity to declare himself. They had always known that Bella Black was beyond them, that they were not worth to aspire to her hand. Only he whom she was now forced to call husband had been unaware of the striking gap between them that should have told a loving heart that it had no chance and no right to declare love to the superior creature she had taken for granted that she was.
ʻYou said you had an important communication?ʼ she finally asked when he didnʼt make any signs of stopping to affectionately stroke her leg.
With a tiny bit of satisfaction she saw him wince at her words and he clumsily heaved himself to his feet, putting a hand on her shoulder and pressing her head against his belly.
Before he could say anything a screech filled the parlour and a barn owl swept through an open window and landed in front of Bella.
ʻHello, Satelles,ʼ she muttered and stroke the owlʼs head, then untied a letter and a parcel from the owlʼs leg.
ʻWhatʼs this?ʼ her husband asked, shifting nervously on the spot.
Bella wrenched her head from his grasp and turned the letter, recognizing the hand on the envelope. ʻItʼs my sister Andromeda.ʼ
ʻThat doesnʼt matter,ʼ he muttered, shoving away her hand holding the letter. ʻListen...ʼ
Bella tried to breath calmly while he continued to move restlessly, impeding her every movement and still not saying whatever was bothering him. ʻIs there a problem?ʼ she asked at last sharply.
ʻA problem?ʼ he said as if he were surprised, wiping his forehead. ʻNo, no, on the opposite, a surprise, a very pleasant surprise...ʼ
ʻIndeed,ʼ she sneered, as he wiped his nose on the back of his hand.
ʻIndeed, indeed,ʼ he stammered. ʻWell, the matter is this...ʼ He coughed several times as if to increase his courage. ʻThe Dark Lord would like to see you.ʼ
Bella would almost have laughed. She knew that her husband had joined some mean-spirited little group of coxcombs, considering themselves the paragons of wizardry. As soon as she had heard that her husband was involved with them, she had lost what little interest she had had before to meet them, even political parallels taken in account.
ʻWhat an honour,ʼ she reduced herself to say gravely, very well knowing that he wouldnʼt hear the irony.
ʻYes, yes,ʼ he stuttered, obviously glad for her reaction. ʻThat it is, it is. But, darling, my dearest, my sweetheart...ʼ
She fixed her eyes on her owl that was picking maggots from the toasts, trying not to listen to his effusions of tenderness, while his fingers crept down her shoulders.
ʻThe thing is this, love,ʼ he finally continued, shaking slightly, ʻthat the Master is no friend of disrespect.ʼ
She wrinkled her nose, despising the way a wizard of a (once) respectable family spoke fearfully about a master. Simultaneously, she enjoyed his fright at what her behaviour might entail. And she had absolutely no motivation to take away his disquiet.
ʻYou doubt my abilities to behave myself,ʼ she said gravely, remaining absolutely rigid as his hands lay shakily on her breast.
ʻWell, my darling little wife,ʼ he stuttered, ʻyou are a lovely creature and I find your little quirks very stimulating, but... this is a different matter. If... if you should show any sign of... lack of esteem... he might react promptly. Itʼs your life thatʼs here... and mine too...ʼ
Turning her head from him she smiled, relishing his trouble. That Dark Lord would be just as conceited a creature as her husband, thinking that because he had a nice sum at Gringotts and one or the other wizards in his ancestry, she would welcome his acquaintance. That master of her husband would be a copy of him, probably slightly worse, but certainly nothing she had to be afraid of. She had a better background, more judgement and considerably more talent. She would like to see that self-declared Lord trying to punish her for - disrespect. As if she owed anyone respect.
ʻIʼm but an ignorant girl,ʼ she said quietly, lowering her head to hide her grin.
ʻYes, exactly,ʼ said her husband enthusiastically. ʻI knew you would understand. So get yourself ready, weʼre supposed to meet him at eleven.ʼ
He bent down and tried to kiss her mouth that she kept tightly shut, turning her head away again. Nervous as he was he didnʼt persevere, but stumbled out of the room.
With a sigh of relief Bella watched him go before she let her eyes travel over the breakfast table. Satelles was still busy with the maggots in the toasts and what little appetite she had had dispersed at the sight. A look at the clock informed her that it was a quarter after ten. Wishing to avoid her husband, she took the parcel and letter from her sister and Apparated into her bedroom.
She threw herself in the armchair and opened Dromedaʼs letter, running her eye over it with a mixture of sadness and jealousy. She longed to be back at school, back to the classes in which she excelled. Dromedaʼs letter reminded her so much of who she had been. At the same time Bella was painfully aware how short a time Drommy was given in which she could remain the girl everyone knew. Bella had already been a great cause for anger in the family because of the circumstances of her marriage; her little sister would bear it no better. There was not a single wizard who could live up to both Drommyʼs and their parentsʼ wishes. The letterʼs only positive news were that the Malfoy boy had risen in Cissyʼs opinion from ʻvery plainʼ to ʻexceedingly handsomeʼ, a small solace.
Bella reached the last paragraph, threw the letter away and ripped the parcel open, eager to get to its content. She had already eaten about five biscuits, before she could eat slowly enough to savour the chocolate flavour. Leaning back in the armchair and nibbling at a biscuit, her memories travelled back to the days when she had painted her future in the brightest colours as a companion and an inspiration for her sisters.
Pulling herself together, she magicked the parcel whole again and hid it in her drawer together with the letter. She changed her robes, wishing to appear as dignified as possible by choosing a completely black robe with a broad ruff.
With another woeful pang, she started to comb her hair before the mirror. At home, their hose-elf had been a true artist in draping hair in the most extravagant stiles. She and her sisters had spent hours with the elf before the mirror, experimenting what could be built on their heads. Of course, the blind elf here would hardly manage to hold a brush.
She had just bound her hair into a glistening knot when her husband threw open the door again.
ʻQuick!ʼ he whispered. ʻItʼs five minutes to eleven, quick.ʼ
Demonstratively slowly, Bella rose from the chair, giving her reflection a dazzling smile. Despite the pallor of her skin, the hollow cheeks and the rings under her eyes, she still looked beautiful. A look at Rodolphus sobered her, it would not be hard to be good-looking next to him.
With deliberate slowness, she approached her husband. When she put her arm under his, she could feel him tremble. He turned on the spot and she automatically imitated him, experiencing a moment of discomfort as they Disapparated to reappear at the border of a wood.
Rodolphus wiped his sweaty forehead, then dragged her with him until they reached an old ruin. There was one big arch that lead further into the only remaining building, some sort of giant hall. Her husband tightened his grip on her and lifted his left arm as if greeting someone, marching through the arch. For a second, Bella felt something like a massive wall of air in her way. Then Rodolphus had pulled her through to his side.
The hall, severely dilapidated from the outside, was in perfect shape once they had entered. The large room was almost empty apart from a large table at one end from which rose a tall man, dressed and hooded in black robes. He slowly approached them, his face hidden in the shadows.
Her husband loosened his grip on her and sank to his knees. When the man stopped several feet away from them, Rodolphus crept forwards and kissed the hem of the manʼs robe. Bella watched him with disgust as he crawled backwards to her again. Contemptuously, she turned from her husband to look at the fabled master who calmly removed the hood from his head.
He was ugly, that was the first conviction she gained as she scrutinized him. He was tall and thin with markedly receding black hair, so far he looked inconspicuous. It were his features that gave him a creepy, unnatural look. Bella fleetingly wondered whether someone had thrown acid at him and thereby distorted what might have once been a handsome face. His skin was not pale, but snow white what formed an odd contrast with his hair. There seemed to be some infection to his eyes for they were disproportionately bloodshot.
The man looked at Bella, appearing moderately interested, tilting his head on one side. Bella had heard that he could read minds, but - first - she doubted such rumours, and - second - she had not the least intention to hide her thoughts. She scorned a man who was served by imbeciles and who aspired to titles he had no right to carry. If he was as irascible as her husband, he could try to kill her. Either he would fail as was most likely - she had never lost a duel in Defence against the Dark Arts - or he would kill her, nothing dreadful in her situation.
The silence lengthened in which Bella looked disdainfully at him and he gazed back without any apparent emotion. She could hear her husbandʼs breathing speeding up and she smiled to herself.
ʻMadam Lestrange,ʼ said the man suddenly, his voice surprisingly high. ʻIt is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard much of your qualities.ʼ He smiled coldly.
Bella inclined her head in mock modesty. ʻA loving husband may not be the most impartial judge,ʼ she replied gravely, pleased by the echoing effect of the hall that threw her deep, melodious voice impressively back.
ʻIt was not your husband who made me desirous of your acquaintance, madam,ʼ said the man, sounding slightly amused. ʻYour looks are of little value for me while your lineage and prodigious talents have convinced me that you, madam, would be a glorious addition to my circle of... friends.ʼ
He made a little bow and Bella inclined her head again, despite herself a little flattered. She wondered who might have praised her merits, but pride forbid her to ask. Her husband was still breathing heavily, his fear almost palpable. She felt encouraged.
When the man didnʼt continue to talk, but stood on the spot, looking at her almost as if amused, and her husband seemed to be seconds from a collapse, Bella decided to break the silence.
ʻThis is a very unexpected offer of... friendship,ʼ she said, imitating his pronunciation of the last word. ʻI am no friend of hasty decisions.ʼ
ʻNeither am I,ʼ said the man, a thin smile on his lips, while her husband suppressed a moan. ʻBut I hope that we will be given time to get to know each otherʼs plans for the future.ʼ
Bella internally flinched when she heard what could be but mockery of her situation. The pain was quickly superseded by anger and she raised her head defiantly.
ʻI have not the least reason to wish for your acquaintance,ʼ she said coolly. She was rewarded by a terrified squeak of her husband, but the manʼs smile broadened though there was no humour detectable in it.
ʻYou, madam, certainly have the right to be demanding in such matters,ʼ he said with the shadow of a bow, then looking at her, appearing slightly curious of what she might say next.
Though Bella greatly enjoyed her husbandʼs panic, she had not seen anything to interest her in that so-called lord and she began to feel rather bored. But then, a thought, a memory of a former claim she had made in happier times, came to her and the feeling of recklessness and adventure she had missed for so many months darted back.
ʻThey say, mister,ʼ she called, the echoing effect also increasing her cynical tone, ʻthat youʼre a talented warlock. I would be curious to know whether there is any truth contained in these stories.ʼ
The man actually grinned, though it did nothing to make him more friendly looking, rather the opposite. ʻJust set a task, madam, and I will strive to fulfil it,ʼ he said with pointed politeness.
ʻDuel me.ʼ
Rodolphus squealed and fell to his knees, but the man inclined his head. Triumphant, she made a step forward.
ʻNo, Master, I beg you!ʼ exclaimed her husband and threw himself on the floor between them. ʻSheʼs just a stupid girl, she knows not what sheʼs saying. I told her to behave, but a spoilt-ʼ
ʻEnough,ʼ said the man softly, yet Rodolphus was immediately silent. ʻI am willing, even delighted, to accede to your wifeʼs wish. I am sure that - once having witnessed my abilities - I will improve in her opinion.ʼ
ʻIndeed,ʼ she said, not hiding her smile now as she stepped past her husband. ʻI promise you, should you get the better of me, I will be as faithful a friend, a servant, a slave, as you can wish. Otherwise, I will consider it my privilege, never having to meet you again.ʼ
ʻA fair proposition,ʼ said the man, smiling likewise as he went to face her. ʻAre there any other conditions you make?ʼ
ʻPlease, Master,ʼ whimpered Rodolphus before she could decline, ʻdonʼt kill her, donʼt punish her for-ʼ
ʻHave we not made it perfectly clear,ʼ interrupted the man, not looking at Rodolphus, ʻthat there is no discussion about killing each other, that it would be of no advantage to either of us? I suggest you go out of the way.ʼ
Bella watched her husband mopping his face as he crawled to the wall, but it didnʼt disgust her as usual, excitement flooding her body as she drew her wand to finally use it again for a worthier task than scrubbing the floor. She thought she felt the wand vibrate in her hand, as eager to perform as she was.
Her adversary was still smiling and so was she as she imagined how he would soon find that she was more than a match for him. For she couldnʼt lose, she had absolutely no experience with that and she wouldnʼt start it now.
When they faced each other from a reasonable duelling distance, the man bowed his head and she curtsied. Then they raised their wands.
Simultaneously they swung them over their shoulders, but before Bella could perform the Stunning Spell she had intended to use, she was forced to block the unknown curse that flew at her. Without wasting any time to wonder about the spell, she cut the air with her wand, sending a strong blast of wind against him, but it had proceeded only a short distance when it suddenly turned against her and she was blown back to the wall until she could stop the gush of air.
Surprised to meet with far better fighting skills than she had expected, Bella looked over to her opponent. He was standing calmly like he wanted to give her the chance to recover. Angrily, she cast a Stinging jinx at him, immediately followed by a Disarming and a Stunning Spell. Almost lazily he deflected them with Shield Charms before he turned his wand in an elegant spiral.
Around Bella, the air started to vibrate and dust rose from the ground. A wall of whirling wind began to move around her with increasing speed, tugging at her from all sides. She hastily formed a Shield Charm and surrounded herself with it because the hurricane of which she was the centre didnʼt allow her any longer to observe what was going on outside her windy prison.
Confusion woke in her. She hadnʼt expected magic she didnʼt know. Unable to think of something with which to fight the whirlwind, she decided to Disapparate to another corner of the room. She turned on the spot, but it was like running into a solid wall and she staggered, gasping. She couldnʼt Apparate in this hall.
Slightly panicky, she shot an Impediment Jinx into the storm, then hastily renewed her Shield Charm. Yet, her curse didnʼt have any effect on the wind, she still didnʼt know what was going on, not even where her adversary was. She breathed as calmly as she could, trying to think up a way out.
Before she could come to any conclusion, the wind that tossed at her from every side loosened her bun and her hair fluttered wildly around her face, impeding her sight even further. Grabbing the hair with her free hand she conjured a board of wood to shield herself from the storm. But it was ripped from her and became part of the tornado, dangerously flying around her. The wind seemed to close in and she had to concentrate not to be torn off her feet.
ʻFinite Incantatem!ʼ she screamed out in her despair.
Immediately, everything was quiet. Perplexed she tripped, then straightened up to orient herself.
Before she could do anything, she had fallen to the ground, screeching in utmost pain. Her insides were burning, her blood was boiling, singeing her whole body, cutting her into tiny pieces, but never oblivion taking her in, only more and more pain, always worse and worse just when she was certain that she had reached the peak of agony.
As unexpectedly as it had come, the pain was gone and she was lying on the floor. Shaking madly all over, she tried to lift herself from the ground. She looked at her hands and arms and couldnʼt see any trace from the pain that had eaten her body seconds ago. She spit a strand of hair out of her mouth and heaved herself in a sitting position, panting and her arms hardly able to support her weight.
She was still gasping for breath when she noticed her wand missing. She grasped around herself, overthrowing her feeble balance and sinking back to the floor. Full of shock, she finally looked up.
Her adversary stood over her, looking down with a satisfied smile, holding his wand in one hand, her wand in the other.
The truth of her defeat washed through her and she closed her eyes, ashamed and full of disbelief. He had won, she had lost the duel. This was the truth, but it was impossible. Impossible! That man, a man she had been so certain of having but created himself a reputation out of the mediocrity of his surroundings, a man of whom it would be easy for her to get the better, that man had actually defeated her, had used magic against her she had not known, had, in short, proved the more skilled, the more talented wizard. She was humiliated.
Opening her eyes again and blinking to fight against tears, she put herself up on her elbows and looked her conqueror in the face.
ʻCan we agree that I have won?ʼ he asked softly.
A gagging sound escaped her as she opened her mouth and she closed it quickly, sitting properly up and breathing deeply and as secretly as possible wiping her face.
ʻYou have,ʼ she finally managed to whimper, mortified by the feeble sound of her voice.
ʻThen I need not have any scruple to return your wand,ʼ he said with the slightest trace of amusement in his voice, bending down and offering her the wand.
ʻThank you,ʼ she muttered, shame making her avoid his eyes. Yet, she was grateful that he didnʼt gloat too openly in his victory.
ʻAnd our conditions are still valid?ʼ he asked silkily, his behaviour giving her the impression that everything had gone exactly as he had planned.
She winced, having completely forgotten what she had said before the duel. But he had won true and fairly, there could be no discussion. She couldnʼt take back what she had said before; she had met more than her match and all she could do now was to be as dignified in her defeat as she could.
ʻThey are,ʼ she replied with as much gravity as possible though her voice was still very thin. ʻI keep to what I said. From now on, I will be your faithful slave, I will serve you as you wish to the best of my abilities.ʼ
ʻSo I can welcome you as a friend and alley?ʼ he asked softly.
She gulped, but a promise was a promise and at least he treated her with more respect than she had expected.
ʻMaster, I am your servant,ʼ she said with all the firmness she could master.
He extended his hand. She hesitated a second, then took it and he drew her to her feet.
ʻI honour you,ʼ he said, keeping his hold on her as she tried to regain her balance, ʻfor your impressive talents and your strength of will. You shall have a place of honour in the ranks of those I lead. That our alliance may be to the advantage of the whole wizarding world.ʼ
She wiped the newly rising tears away. Despite all the humiliation, she started to feel truly grateful to be met with so much respect. She remembered how her husband had crept towards him - she wondered for a second where Rodolphus was, but chased the thought quickly away again - and couldnʼt help feeling flattered in comparison. She now knew that this man was indeed a superior wizard and it would be less disgraceful to be his servant than her husbandʼs wife. Basically, nothing had changed for worse. And maybe, if his words should really prove true, her life would change too and finally take a turn that would be closer to what she had once pictured.
Consoled and hopeful she looked her new master in the face. Even if he did look strange, he nevertheless was dignified, a striking contrast to Rodolphus. She had no reason to be ashamed to follow him. She bent down and kissed his hand.