Chapter Twenty Six

A/N: Thank you to Rainbor123 for reviewing the last chapter.

The cold metal of the dark handled blade caught a glint of the moonlight as Bellatrix twisted it round by the handle, one finger gently running across the side of the blade, caressing it, the expression on her face one of sickening excitement.

"You are a Death Eater, Scarlette. You bear the Dark Lord's glorious mark on your arm, but you've not yet proven yourself worthy to do so." her mother whispered, enunciating each syllable reverently as she spoke of her Lord.

Scarlette remained silent, dumbstruck. She had no clue what she could say in response. Of course, she did not want to let her mother down; she wanted to make her proud of her. But she did not want to cause such pain to anyone, let alone to three people who had once been her friends.

"Mum..." she whispered desperately, hoping that the woman would understand. But the expectation remained in her eyes, and her face seemed to have even hardened a little. It was clear that her hopes of avoiding the task her mother expected her to perform were unfounded. She was not going to allow her to pass on her plans for her.

Feeling sick to her stomach, Scarlette took the knife from her mother's hand, stroking her fingertips along it just as Bellatrix had done. However, while the elder woman had shivered with pleasure and excitement at the sensation, her daughter shivered only with fear for what was to come.

In the past, she had seen the Dark Lord's anger, seen the effect it had had on those towards whom it was directed. She had seen people she was extremely close to, coerced into performing impossible tasks and tortured almost to the brink of insanity. She had seen their pain, but it was nothing in comparison to the idea that she would be the one inflicting such agony on people she cared about. The first was a mark that would haunt her mind, the second a mark that would blacken her soul.

'How can I get out of this?' she thought, desperately trying to come up with something, anything, that could exempt her from carrying out this deed. However, for all the thoughts buzzing in her mind, the thoughts of any that could possibly work were sparse, and the ideas she thought she could use came up as a blank.

The feeling of dread increased tenfold as Scarlette realised she had no means to stop this. The rest of the family would not speak out for her, and it would be futile for the trio to speak against. She shared a quick glance with Draco, the one meeting of their eyes conveying their mutual fear at the prospect. But his eyes spoke clearly to her another thing; I can't stop this.

She nodded her head vaguely, to show that she understood, before taking one, two, three steps towards the captives in the centre of the room, twirling the knife between her fingers as her mother had done. Once she had reached them, she began to circle the group, like a lion stalking its prey, as she had seen her mother do once before.

Her mother's killing instinct had been clear to her, even before she had known the deeper, more familial side to her, and it had been the only side of the woman that had ever been seen by the majority of the Wizarding World. However, no matter hard she tried to find it, searching through the very depths of her soul to find that spark of sadism flaring in her mother's eyes, her conscience took over.

Eventually, she stopped trying to pretend, losing her grip on the knife and allowing it to clatter to the floor, the impact of the metal on wood echoing across the silent room.

Scarlette froze, knowing that all eyes in the room were flitting between her and the blade lying abandoned on the floorboards, some laden with sympathy, some burning with fury. However, as she caught the eye of Draco, she saw a twinkle of pride in the pools of grey. She smiled slightly. 'He thinks I've done the right thing. That's good enough for me.'

"Scarlette?" Her smile faded away, and her teeth began to tremble a little. Her mother's anger was terrifying enough to simply see; to have it directed at her, there was a moment where she truly feared for her life. Because this was not the kind of anger that most saw of Bellatrix, the melodramatic and violent side to her; this was pure, unadulterated fury, as her mother had fallen silent. A shiver ran down Scarlette's spine. 'When she's this furious, she could kill me in a heartbeat.'

"Yes, Mother?" she asked, feeling that she should perhaps offer an answer, that maybe her obedience would calm her mother's raging temper a little.

"What do you think you're doing?" her mother questioned in return, her voice seeming to be as calm as a lake on a quiet summer's day. That was what frightened her daughter the most; knowing that any moment, her calm exterior would crack, and there would be hell for her to pay. "I told you, you need to prove yourself. So do it."

"Yes, I agree that I should have to prove myself worthy. But not to being a Death Eater. To being a human being." She saw the colour drain from her mother's face, as she realised that she had lost control of her child. But it didn't feel bad to defy the woman; quite the opposite, in fact. It felt as if she had been set free, stepped out of the darkness and into the light. She was no longer afraid. She was stronger now, she had just never know it before. She was strong enough to let herself be heard.

"I thought that you wanted to make me proud." Bellatrix whispered, her voice harsh and laced with disappointment and anger. Her daughter smiled in return, before shaking her head, taking the knife and curling it across the room, watching as it sank itself into the middle log, within the roaring flames of the fireplace.

Before she left the room, she walked right up to the woman, until there was barely a foot between them, and spoke the words her mother had dreaded to hear.

"Not like this."

A/N: So, maybe Scarlette is starting to drift back to Harry's side. Please review, and you'll find out sooner what's going to happen to her next.