Heiress of Slytherin

WARNING: I am rewriting this. The chapters posted, today, October 07, 2015 are the only chapters currently in existence. I do have a plan for this story. However, I work full-time and also attend full-time classes at university so I am VERY short on time to write. Neither this nor my story Living Again are abandoned, but updates could take years in between.

Summary: Post Deathly Hallows. Non-epilogue compliant. From July until March, Bellatrix is missing from action. Where was she for those long nine months? And who is the Heiress of Slytherin?

Rating: T for potential language and violence.

Chapter 2: The Woes of Brats and Food

October 27, 1997

Sitting on the floor of the latrine, Bellatrix seethed with anger. A mere three months of this horrid condition, and she was already sick of it. She had tortured and killed the blasted healer who had given her the news. She wanted nothing to do with the child who grew in her womb, and she had expected the same from her Lord. His reaction to her news had been quite the opposite of her expectations. Instead of furiously demanding she get rid of the little brat, he had insisted on the opposite. She would carry the child and raise it in secrecy. When the time was right, he would be a fearsome warrior for their cause. "He indeed," she thought to herself, "And if it isn't a he? What then?" This cheered her up a bit. Surely, if it were a girl, she would be allowed to dispose of it as she saw fit. After all, men were never interested in anything but sons. Her anger returned however as she took in her surroundings. "How dare he send me here!" Suddenly, an elf appeared at her side.

"Pardoning my intrusion Mistress Lestrange, but the Masters Malfoy is being wishing me to inform you that breakfast is being ready," the little elf squeaked before retreating at once away from the grumpy, tired, swollen, mad witch who had cursed it already too many times.

The thought of breakfast made her ill again, so she chose to ignore the blasted thing. She knew she had to eat eventually, but at the moment she'd rather just sit on the floor. Someone would be up to attend to her eventually. They always were. Her Lord had ordered that she receive the utmost of care, and her sister and dratted brother-in-law had taken to the task with almost too much ease. They did not seem to mind that caring for her and keeping her secret kept them out of their Lord's battles. In fact, they seemed more relaxed than she had ever seen them. But of course, she'd had her suspicions for a while now of just where their loyalties lay, and the thought of it sickened her. It was all the little brat's fault she was sure. Andromeda had always been a blood traitor, but Cissy had been practical. She and her husband had joined their Lord proudly. Their child on the other hand…she shuddered with embarrassment as she remembered the little brat's initiation. He had blubbered like a two year old when the mark touched his arm, and he had failed miserably in the first task that he'd been set to. Thankfully, Snape was able to salvage the operation in time. She still felt prickles of regret that she had not been able to personally finish that particular task for her Lord. Snape had been highly praised for his accomplishment. The child was a weak link in her Lord's forces, and she detested weak links. Through him, her sister had become weak as well, and the thought of what fate surely awaited them when they turned traitor sickened her. Children make you weak. Lifting her robes, she stared down at the small but visible bump of her womb. Her lips snarled in disgust. She hated the little thing, but she loved her Lord and would keep to his desires. A knock sounded tentatively at the door just then pulling her from her thoughts.

"Bella," her sister called through the door, "is it alright if I come in?"

It was far too early for intrusions of wellbeing. Frustrated she growled, "Go Away!"

A sigh was heard, and her sister replied, "You need to eat Bella even if you can't keep it down. The baby needs nourishment. You haven't eaten in over a day."

"I'm not hungry, and I don't care what the little brat needs. If it starves to death, that's all the better to me." She would not give in this morning. Her stomach churned in protest to the mere thought of food. She had survived in Azkaban for days on end without food and sometimes even water. The guards there thought it a clever game to see how long she'd last without nourishment and only provided the barest of amounts to keep her alive.

The door opened and Narcissa appeared hands on hips. "Now, Bella, you know better than this. Our Lord wishes for you to take care of yourself. He is counting on you to carry this child to term. Do you really wish to face his wrath when you miscarry the poor babe?"

Of course, her Lord would be most displeased if she lost the little brat. She enjoyed his temper, but it would do her no good at all to fall away from his good graces. No matter how daunting this task, she would simply have to grin and bear it. She loved and respected her Lord and would always do as he asked…even this, the most horrifyingly hideous of tasks. Growling in annoyance, she grit her teeth and made to stand. Immediately, Cissy was there to assist her, but she pushed her off with a frustrated grunt. She wasn't an invalid after all. She was only three or four months pregnant at most and was perfectly capable of picking herself off the floor without assistance. Her stomach churned traitorously at the movement, and she almost reconsidered her decision to have breakfast, but she knew she had to try…for her Lord.

"Excellent, Bella. Would you like to eat in your room or the dining room?" her sister asked.

"The dining room," she decided. She might as well use this as an opportunity to torture her brother-in-law and nephew with her presence. She knew that without her Lord's intervention in the matter, she would be most unwelcome here. Draco and Lucius stood from the table upon her entrance.

"Bella, how good of you to join us," the elder greeted her, false cheer practically dripping from his words, "And how are you feeling on this fine morning?"

"Absolutely dreadful as you should well know!" she seethed at him seating herself at the table as an elf pulled out a chair.

Lucius sat and continued to grin as though she had replied to his inquiry in the politest of manners. "Well, perhaps you will feel better after you have eaten." Turning to an elf he called, "You! Elf! Get the Mistresses something to eat at once!" The elf scrambled to obey. A plate was set before her almost before the commands left his lips and one similar appeared to Narcissa. Her stomach was repelled by the smell of the food. Taking up the toast, she nibbled at the edges. The rest she knew she could not touch today. Sighing exasperatedly, she prepared herself for yet another day of this dreadful exile.