CHAPTER FOUR:
Memory
Now Andromeda felt sick.
It wasn't the wine. She could drink an entire bottle by herself and not lose her ability to function. She could drink more than one, actually. She had been a high-functioning alcoholic for a very long time, though the words "high-functioning" didn't seem as accurate since her husband went into hiding.
No, she was a different kind of sick.
Her estranged sister, her sadistic, estranged sister, was pregnant.
Pregnant by Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
And only Andromeda Tonks knew about it.
Shortly after Bellatrix's revelation, she passed out. Andromeda cleaned her up, levitated her to the couch in the living room, covered her with a blanket, and placed a glass of water and a bottle of hangover tonic beside her on the table.
Then she began to panic.
In her home was one of the most wanted dark witches ever to exist. The right hand woman of the darkest wizard since Grindelwald, possibly the darkest ever, depending upon who you asked. Her sister wasn't only his right hand witch, she was his mistress, the mistress of that monster. The thought made Andromeda's skin crawl.
He-Who-Must-No-Be-Named's pregnant mistress was passed out drunk on blood-traitor Andromeda's couch.
She should contact Nympadora. She had the means. She could get a message to her. But what good would it do? As an Auror, Tonks would have the power to arrest her aunt, but with Death Eaters in control of the Ministry, what would be the point?
Besides, didn't she have to uphold some semblance of loyalty toward her sister? Estranged or not, on different sides or the same, did it matter? They were sisters. They'd been through so much…
No. Bellatrix and Narcissa had made it quite clear when Andromeda chose to marry Ted: they were not sisters anymore. Furthermore, Bellatrix had made it clear when she killed their cousin and tried to kill Andromeda's own daughter that she only cared about blood in terms of purity, not in terms of commonality.
Yet, here was Bellatrix, having come to her, of all people, after all these years. Why?
Andromeda settled into an armchair to watch Bellatrix sleep. She used to watch her sleep when they were children too. She never understood how Bellatrix could sleep. After he'd leave their room… their stepfather… after he'd leave their room to return to their mother's bed, Narcissa would cry. Bellatrix hated it when Narcissa would cry. She used to slap her and call her a baby and threaten to hurt her worse if she didn't shut up. Bellatrix couldn't stand the sound of crying. But Narcissa would cling to her and beg her not to go and Bella would inevitably end up holding Narcissa until she fell asleep, then tucking her in and kissing her forehead before crawling into her own bed.
Bella hated it when she'd realize Andromeda was watching this scene. She would rather people – even her own sisters – see her behaving cruelly, bullying other students at Hogwarts, torturing small animals simply to test out new dark curses she was developing, acting superior even toward her professors and those to whom she was supposed to show respect, than to see her in a moment of tenderness or being protective toward her youngest sister.
As they got older, those moments of tenderness and protectiveness faded away. Andromeda learned to stop expecting them, but as the baby, Narcissa never seemed to. Bella would tell Cissy to get over it, to stop her carrying on like a baby, that she deserved it for being the way she was – spoiled, self-absorbed, a little bitch.
What always confused Andromeda the most, though, wasn't the moments of cruelty or the moments of sweetness but the way Bellatrix could crawl back into bed after he left, close her eyes, and fall asleep. Her breathing would slow to deep and even within minutes, she'd even snore sometimes, while Andromeda lay awake for hours, terrified of what might happen if she shut her eyes, tormented by twisted mental images when she tried.
The nightmares didn't start when Andromeda got pregnant, they started when she was a child. They merely returned when she got pregnant.
So perhaps that wouldn't happen to Bellatrix at all. Perhaps she'd go right on sleeping peacefully as she always had. She looked to be sleeping peacefully now.
She wasn't, though. Not really. Inside her mind, Bellatrix was trapped in a dream, a conflation of overlapping memories, in which a man was holding her down, touching her, kissing her. One moment it was the Dark Lord and she felt content, but in the next, it was Stepfather, and then the image swirled, and she was being felt up by Lucius in the parlor the way Andromeda described.
Two days after Lord Voldemort tortured Lucius for fucking Bellatrix in that alley despite His express order to His Death Eaters that she was off-limits (He claimed He did this in order to test a few loyalties) Lucius cornered Bellatrix at Malfoy Manor after a meeting. The Dark Lord had apparated out only seconds before. Bellatrix was on her way to the kitchen to say goodbye to Narcissa when he grabbed her arm in the hall. Most of the others in the inner circle had dispersed, including her husband and his brother. He pinned her roughly against the wall, her arm twisted painfully behind her.
"I want you."
"Get off me."
"It was too quick the other night. I didn't even get to taste you."
"He'll torture you again."
"It's worth it."
"Andromeda knows. What if she tells Narcissa?"
"Who would believe Andromeda?" He pressed closer so their bodies were flush against each other, his long blond hair hanging in her face. "I can't stop thinking about you." His lips traveled to her neck. "I need you. I need to be inside you."
"You're being ridiculous," she said haughtily, attempting to push him away. If only she could reach her wand. Voldemort was working with her on various spells with wandless magic, but she didn't know any that would be subtle enough to get him away from her without possibly causing him irreparable harm, which, while personally satisfying, would not be prudent as it would surely mean others would find out about this.
"I'll have you again," he murmured against her collarbone.
"You're married to my sister."
"She won't mind. She likes for me to be happy. Perhaps I could even take you at the same time."
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "She and I? At the same time? She's my sister."
"I know." He grinded against her. She could feel the length of him rubbing uncomfortably against her lower abdomen. "You wouldn't have to do much together…"
"Get off of me."
"Or anything together…"
She struggled against his hold. "Sod off."
"Is there someone else?" Now he sounded hurt, which was absurd.
"Yes," she said, "My darling husband."
Lucius laughed. His lips returned to her neck. "Rodolphus?" he whispered an inch from her ear. "He's hardly 'someone else.' I love my wife, Bella, but I desire you."
"Don't call me Bella."
"I'm going to have you again. I'll have you together if you're willing. If you're not, alone is fine."
Again she tried unsuccessfully to push him away. "I'm not."
"Alone it is."
"I'm not willing to be with you."
"That's fine. I don't need your permission, only your body."
She kneed him, aiming for his groin, but missed. He grinded flush against her, laughing.
"You're no match for me."
Fury radiated from Bellatrix. "You overestimate your abilities, Malfoy." The floor went hot beneath their feet. She knew he could feel it. She was damn close to losing control. Her wand hand, still pinned behind her back, twitched. She would give him a final chance to release her before putting him at the receiving end of at least one Unforgivable.
"When the Dark Lord learns of this…"
"Learns of what?" echoed an icy voice down the dark corridor. "Learns that Lucius Malfoy is again disobeying one a direct order?"
Lucius gulped, backing away from Bellatrix, his hands up, palms out, as if in surrender. She rubbed her sore forearm, glaring at Lucius, terrified her Master would think she had somehow welcomed this, afraid He'd punish her, torture her, or worse – be disappointed in her.
"My Lord!" Lucius was whiter than usual. "I… you see… there's been a… misunderstanding…"
"Bellatrix told me that some of my Death Eaters had been harassing her, which is why I gave the order to stay away. You seem to think this does not include you, is that right?"
"No! I… In… in the alleyway… the other day… She set me up!"
"Now I find you accosting her after the conclusion of our meeting?"
Bellatrix stood up straighter, even puffed her chest out a bit. The Dark Lord wasn't angry at her. He knew where her loyalties lay.
"I will deal with you tomorrow, Lucius. You can expect me." Voldemort held out his hand to Bella. She took it. "For now, I have an assignment for you. Come."
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
They disapparated.
An hour later, in His bed, satiated, He asked her how Lucius' advances had started. She told him everything.
"He wants to see you with your sister?" Voldemort's face broke into a wicked smile. "I would not mind seeing your sister. She is… lovely."
Bella's face flushed. "You desire my sister, my Lord?"
He laughed, an icy laugh. "Look at you. You're jealous."
"I'm not."
"You're lying. You dare lie to your Master?"
Her breath hitched in her throat and she winced, expecting punishment, but to her surprise He pulled her closer, so her head was resting on His chest and His hand was resting on her lower back. Her shoulders relaxed. He was amused, not angry. "She is beautiful. That blonde hair, those blue eyes, the curve of her hip… Yes, I could enjoy her. With or without you present."
Bellatrix bit her lip. His long finger traveled up her spin, making her shiver. She couldn't stand to think about it, the Dark Lord with Narcissa. Nothing could be worse. His fingers traveled back up, coming to rest on the back of her neck under her hair. She struggled to breathe.
"Bella, would you be hurt if I wanted your sister?"
He was teasing her, surely. He couldn't possibly be serious. Still, she couldn't bring herself to answer.
"I don't mind the thought of you with another woman," He said after a pause that was far too long. "But not Narcissa. I doubt she's any good in bed. If she were, her husband would not spend half his days chasing other women."
Now Bellatrix felt truly conflicted. On the one hand, she was relieved that the Dark Lord did not, in fact, desire Narcissa, but on the other, she felt the fierce urge to defend her, to protect her, like she did when they were children. "With all due respect, my Lord, I don't think my sister is the problem. Some men… some men just can't control their desire to force themselves on any woman they can. Those men are weak."
"You're thinking of him," said Voldemort. He kissed her forehead. "But I saved you, didn't I? I put a stop to that the moment I knew."
"You did." She kissed his chest and snuggled closer, prompting him to tighten his arm around her. "Narcissa should be grateful too. Once Andromeda were out on our own, she'd be the only one there…"
"You are the most loyal to me, Bellatrix Black," said Voldemort, rolling them over so He was on top of her. Her heart fluttered. She loved when He called her by her full name (minus her marriage-given addition). He parted her legs with his knee. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest, eager to give herself to Him. Though she knew He didn't – or couldn't – return her love, it was enough that He wanted her. It had to be. It was the best she would get.
"I could bring you a woman," He murmured. "A Muggle. We could find one together. I wouldn't touch her myself – you wouldn't like that, nor would I – but I could watch as you do to her what my Death Eaters have done to so many."
"You wish to watch me rape a woman?" asked Bellatrix. She could feel His hardness rubbing against her thigh. Clearly this notion excited him.
"Rape is such a harsh word, Bella. I want to watch you… experiment… with her. I'll bind her wrists to make it easier for you. You can start by kissing her. Move down to her breasts. Take one in your mouth…" As he spoke, he moved south, planting his lips along her neck and upper chest. He flicked his tongue over her nipple and she gasped.
"Keep going," He said, sliding his hand between her legs. "Do to her what you'd like me to do to you. You would do that for me, wouldn't you Bella?" His mouth closed over her nipple as he began to suck. His fingers moved faster between her legs. Again she gasped, then cried out:
"Anything, my Lord, anything! I would do anything for you."
"You would kiss her for me?" He asked, repositioning so the tip of Him was against her entrance.
"Yes, my Lord."
His teeth nipped at her neck. She felt as though her veins were filled with lava. Her skin tingled and burned.
"You would fuck her for me?"
"Yes, my Lord, yes." She struggled to get closer. She desperately wanted Him inside her, ut He made her wait – the one torture she could not abide. He squeezed her thigh.
"You would kill her for me?"
"Yes, my Lord, I would. I would kill anyone for you."
He grinned, kissed her soundly on the mouth, then pushed into her.
"Good, Bella. That's precisely what I wanted to hear."
It was only two weeks later they raided a Muggle party, tortured and stole from those in attendance, and kidnapped one beautiful young girl, perhaps 20 years of age, to bring back to His hideaway. He tested Bellatrix on all three counts and she willingly obliged.
It was her first human kill.
Certainly not her last.
In her unconscious mind, the memory of being in bed with her Master faded, replaced again by one from childhood. She was at home on Christmast break. She hadn't wanted to be. She'd begged Mother to let her remain at Hogwarts over the holiday. It was her first year and to say she loved it would be a gross understatement. She shared a dormitory with four other girls, three of whom she had no use for. Sure, they were Slytherins, but she suspected they were sorted solely on the basis of their blood, whereas she was developing the additional quality of bloodlust.
One of the girls, Zillah Rosier, was a first cousin of the Black sisters, the daughter of their mother's brother. They'd known each other growing up, though not well. Zillah was staying over Christmas break. They would've been the only two girls in their year.
But Mother said no.
"Your sisters want to see you," she written. "Stepfather and I do, too."
"I'll bet he does," said Bellatrix, crumpling up the letter. Now it was her first night home, well after midnight, when she heard the door to their bedroom creak open.
"No," she whispered to the darkness. "Not tonight."
"I've missed you," he whispered, careful not to wake the younger girls. "Did you miss me?"
Six years later, nearly Christmastime, during the last Hogsmeade trip of the term, Bellatrix had again met up with the man who would soon out himself to the Wizarding World as the Dark Lord. She told him she didn't want to return home for the holiday and she told him why. He was furious. He ranted about it, promised to end it, but though she felt protected for the first time since Mother married him a decade earlier, it appeared His issue wasn't in her abuse, but in that fact that she was His, she belonged to Him, and He did not like to share.
Still, He promised she, being of age, could spend the holiday with him. Three days later, as she packed her trunk after her last end-of-term exam, she received a letter from Mother.
Stepfather was dead. It appeared he'd been robbed and stabbed by a mysterious Muggle while making his way to the pub that opened into Diagon Alley with Andromeda, who'd been planning to do her holiday shopping there. The only witness, Andromeda was unable to give any identifying details about the Muggle robber except that He told Stepfather just prior to the stabbing, "This is the fate deserved by your kind." The crime was deemed an act of anti-Wizard violence that even got mentioned in the Daily Prophet.
Her mother was heartbroken.
"Why don't you stay at Hogwarts?" she'd written. "It won't be much like Christmas here. No need to come home."
Bellatrix wouldn't come home, but she wouldn't remain at Hogwarts either. Apologies to Zillah Rosier.
Her memories swirled again, this time to the first time. She was seven. He'd been married to Mother for four months. Father had been dead for only six.
On the couch in Andromeda's home, she tossed and turned, lost in the pain of that first time, the night Mother was sick and wanted to go to bed early. The night he offered to tuck the girls in.
Andromeda sipped tea as she watched her sister squirm restlessly, but still out cold. Should she try to wake her? Should she summon Nymphadora? Her wand hand twitched. It would only take two words. Two words to end the most immediate threat to her family. Two words she'd never uttered, never thought she would.
Only two words.
Could she do it?
A/N: After this chapter, there is only one more, but this is the first of three fics that go together. The next two (LOYAL TO THE DARK LORD and DYING FOR THE DARK LORD) take place in December, 1997 and April/May, 1998 with an as-yet-unnamed August epilogue. Not sure whether I should combine them here as if they're one story or separate them because they can also stand alone. Any opinions? Each is about the same length as this one, aproximately 15,000 words. Anyway, thanks for reading thus far! Hope you stay for the conclusion. 3 AL
