A/N: This fic is a gift to my wonderful online cousin. She wanted to read about Bellatrix finding out about Snape being married to Voldemort's daughter. Although the Snapes are important, Bellatrix is the protagonist. Also, there's a reference to The Cursed Child, quite easy to tell by the title… It was about time I dealt with Skyrah's half-sister, don't you think? And no, I don't mean Dione.
TW: Coarse language and mentions of murder, miscarriages, infertility, abusive relationships, cheating, suicide and incest. It isn't as dark as it seems, I promise! I can't read dark stuff, let alone write it.
The Birth of the Augurey
19th June 1996
Charms and iron bars kept her locked up. The rags she had for clothes were not warm enough against the chill of the cell and irritated her skin. The gloom caused by the lack of windows didn't allow her to tell the time of day, let alone keep track of how many days she had spent there. She would pace around if the space had permitted it. Instead, she was forced to hug herself and run in place if she was too cold or her joints ached. Even when she lay down to sleep, she had to adopt the fetal position. Her arms had become her pillows, numb after spending hours trying to fall asleep. Under such circumstances, most wouldn't find joy. Her lips, nonetheless, were curled into a smile. While her body remained trapped, her mind was free to wander through precious memories, from her wedding day, to her oldest daughter smelling white roses and thanking her with cheek kisses and her youngest daughter going dragon-riding for her eighth birthday with her father.
A sudden noise and a blinding light startled her. She shielded her eyes and hissed, sitting up.
"Well, well, well… Long time no see, Andraste Carrow. I must say that time has not treated you well. You could pass for a ghost."
She hadn't heard that mocking voice in years. Frankly, she hadn't missed it the least bit. If the intruder had come with food, perhaps Andraste would have been somewhat glad to see her.
"Bellatrix Lestrange," she said, more tired than surprised. She forwent informing her that it had been Andraste Fawley for years now.
"Now you know how it feels to rot in a cell while your enemy is free."
Andraste jerked her head away from the light coming from Bellatrix's wand and assured, "I've never considered you my enemy."
It wasn't only what Andraste said but how she said it that outraged Bellatrix. So sincerely. So bluntly. Her ridiculous calmness was the spark that ignited the flames of Bellatrix's rage and drove her to clutch the rusty bars. Andraste remained unfazed. Bellatrix, like the rest of Death Eaters, couldn't kill her, no matter how much she yearned to. Those had been Voldemort's orders, and if there was something Andraste didn't question despite being a Ravenclaw, that was Bellatrix's loyalty to her Lord.
"You should. The Dark Lord wants me, not you."
"You can keep him."
"That isn't what you used to say," Bellatrix reminded her, letting go of the bars.
Andraste couldn't deny it. She'd been sick in love with him – maybe that was why she couldn't bring herself to hate Bellatrix. Dislike, sure. But never hate. She had been her years ago.
"You thought that you were better than me, but he never cared for you. You weren't even worthy of wearing his mark," hissed Bellatrix, glancing meaningfully at Andraste's bare forearm.
Andraste didn't bother telling her the reason there was no Dark Mark was that he hadn't seen her as his servant.
"Do you think he cares for you instead? Has he told you he does?" asked Andraste though she needn't have.
She knew exactly what Voldemort told Bellatrix, the same he used to whisper to young Andraste:
You are mine.
You belong to me.
She couldn't imagine him ever abandoning her like her first love did, not when he made her feel so special and repeated those words, his grip on her so tight it was painful. It took her endless heated arguments with her mother to acknowledge that his touch was dominant and that his words spoke of possession, not love.
"He's going to give me a baby."
Bellatrix mistook the loud gasp that followed for envy. Only when she saw how wide Andraste's eyes had gotten did she realize that, rather than jealous, Andraste was shocked and, perhaps, afraid. Although she couldn't keep the complacent smirk on her face, Bellatrix retained her air of arrogance which came easily to all Blacks. After all, she had managed to shake Andraste out of her tranquil state, a small yet satisfying victory.
"He hasn't asked you to give him an heir," said Andraste. That frustrated family reunion in which Skyrah had told her and Dione that she had to get pregnant with the child of a Death Eater was still at the back of her mind.
"I was entrusted with that task years ago, but that Potter boy survived, the Dark Lord disappeared, and I was sent to Azkaban."
"And now that you're back, you wish to fulfill it," concluded Andraste. "But he's chosen somebody else… It is you that wants a child, not him. You can't be expecting. He wouldn't allow it."
"What do you mean?"
"He'd kill the baby before you began to show."
"The Dark Lord wouldn't kill his own child. He didn't kill your daughter."
"He didn't murder my first child, but he'll murder yours and the little humanity that's left in you."
Bellatrix became alert at her change of tone. Andraste had always been proud, composed, witty. A worthy rival. Even dressed in tatters and smelling bad, she had held her head high. But now? Now her trembling voice held no strength and the look in her eyes was that of a woman who had no more tears to shed.
"Liar! You just want to ruin me! You took him away from me years ago, and you want to do the same now!"
"You couldn't be more wrong," said Andraste, regaining some of her usual composure. Leastwise, Bellatrix didn't have to make an effort to listen to her anymore. "I don't want anybody to lose their child, not even you."
"Why should I trust you?"
"You don't have to trust me. Trust the facts: Barbara Crouch, Octavia Rookwood, Rosalind Lestrange. Why do you think they died?"
With disdain, Bellatrix claimed, "They failed the Dark Lord."
"Because they didn't give him an heir, only girls. And he didn't fancy girls. He already had – has – my daughter. There were more witches that were spared only because he still considered them useful. If you get pregnant with his child, you'll either die or live with inconsolable grief."
Bellatrix looked askance at Andraste. "Why hasn't anyone given him a son?"
"He was cursed."
Bellatrix would have laughed at the ludicrous thought. Who dared do such a thing to the Dark Lord and fear not for their lives? Who would succeed? Yet Andraste had not hesitated, there was no lie in her voice.
"It was you…" Bellatrix murmured, narrow-eyed. Then the tip of her wand was touching Andraste's neck. "You cursed him!"
Rather than recoiling, Andraste gave her a rueful grin. "You and I aren't so different, Lestrange. I also wanted to harm my mother when I found out what she had done. I said things I should have never said. I blamed her for the children I lost and for his seeking other witches. I resented her for years until I understood she did the right thing for her family and for the muggle and wizarding world. Perhaps you will, someday."
"Does the Dark Lord know that your mother…"
"He murdered her himself."
The last thing Andraste saw before everything turned black again was Bellatrix's dress billowing with every stomp. They wouldn't meet again until the Final Battle.
18th July 1996
"He's summoning us."
Bellatrix didn't reply to her husband nor did she whine and clutch her arm like him. She hurried to apparate to the Malfoy Manor gate and rushed to the drawing room, paying little attention to the oil portraits with judging gazes. Only Lucius, Narcissa and the Dark Lord were there, sitting at a long ornate table. She was about to sit by him, as always, when he hissed, "This seat is not for you, Bella."
"But my Lord…"
"Sit next to your sister, if you please, but this seat, you shall not touch."
She pouted and folded her arms across her chest, sinking on the assigned seat. Normally, Narcissa would have told her to behave as their dead mother had taught them, but she stayed silent, as did Lucius and Draco. Rodolphus came in later on, looking daggers at his wife before sitting beside her. His brother Rabastan and the rest of the Death Eaters arrived in dribs and drabs. Nobody had taken a seat next to the Dark Lord yet, positioned at the head of the table.
Then Bellatrix spotted her: a woman of wavy black hair in a moss-green dress that did little to dissimulate a very fat belly. Bellatrix wondered if her water would break in the middle of the meeting. Despite not knowing her name, Bellatrix decided she couldn't trust her. Nobody accompanied by that treacherous Snape deserved her trust.
"You took your time."
"We were busy," the stranger told the Dark Lord, not sounding apologetic at all, but rather cold.
She held his gaze, too. Not many Death Eaters dared to look him in the eye. Most of them only did so when requested, often to be legilimenced.
An evil grin split into Bellatrix's face. Any time now, the Dark Lord would put that woman in her place.
Or so she had expected.
She watched in puzzlement how he gestured the pair should sit down. The stranger sat on the left side of the Dark Lord, while Snape sat opposite her, on the Dark Lord's right.
"How is the task I set you progressing?"
"The flying charm only needs some polishing," said the pregnant woman, matter-of-factly. "A few days should suffice. I do not wish to give you something flawed."
Bellatrix squinted at her. Why would the Dark Lord give her such a task and let her sit so close to him? She didn't even have the Dark Mark, Bellatrix had noticed (the green sleeves barely reached her elbows). She glimpsed at the other Death Eaters. The majority were as confused as Bellatrix. Others, like the Malfoys, didn't appear to be surprised by that woman's attitude nor the fact that Snape had arrived with her.
"But he's chosen somebody else," Andraste had said. "It is you that wants a child, not him."
It was then Bellatrix realized those hadn't been lies. That witch, whoever she was, had not only stolen her seat: she had taken her place, too. She was younger than Bellatrix, prettier (a stay in Azkaban had yellowed her teeth and given her skin a translucent, unhealthy tone). Though Bellatrix considered herself to be clever, she had to admit inventing a flying spell was beyond her capabilities. She must have found a way to break the curse, too. Bellatrix couldn't compete against her like she hadn't been able to compete against Andraste. She didn't stop clenching her fists until Narcissa put a hand on her knee, the gesture hidden under the table.
"Excellent. The flying charm will give us an advantage over the aurors. I knew you would not fail me," said the Dark Lord.
A stab of jealousy filled Bellatrix at the way he lifted her chin. Bellatrix couldn't understand why the woman wasn't basking in the approval, pleased at the special treatment.
He went on to delegate more tasks to his followers, from persuading the giants into joining their side to mass muggle killing. Throughout his speech, Bellatrix shot the Chosen Witch threatening glares. She was as indifferent to Bellatrix as she had been to the Dark Lord's praise.
At last the meeting was over, and the Dark Lord left along with most Death Eaters. Bellatrix was glad he hadn't sent that pretentious witch one last look. He hadn't looked at Bellatrix herself either, but she refused to think about that. Only the Malfoys, Bellatrix, Snape and the stranger stayed – Rodolphus had barely nodded at his in-laws as a goodbye, purposely paying little attention to his wife. She decided right then she would convince the Malfoys to let her live in their Manor, far from Rodolphus and close to her Lord.
"Would you like to drink some Superior Red from our apothecary?" offered Narcissa. "Tea for you, Skyrah."
"I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I'm feeling quite weary," said the woman, Skyrah – a name Bellatrix had heard before but couldn't quite place – with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Shall we escort you?"
"That will not be necessary, Lucius," assured Snape. "We know the way."
Lucius nodded and put his arm around Narcissa's waist.
"We are going to the garden. Draco is there. Are you coming?"
"In a minute, Cissy. I want to talk to them…" Bellatrix directed her gaze to Snape and Skyrah. "Alone."
The couple looked at each other in such a way it vexed Bellatrix, like they spoke a language she couldn't understand. Somehow, that look had meant they agreed to stay and wait, for that was what they did.
"You don't have the Dark Mark," said Bellatrix once the Malfoys' footsteps weren't audible anymore. "But you're important to the Dark Lord."
"If you say so."
"Don't patronize me!" shrieked Bellatrix, invading her personal space. "What have you done? Why are you so special?"
"She doesn't have to answer you, much less when you speak in such a contemptuous tone," Snape intervened.
"I'll speak in the tone I please!" she retorted, spitting on the floor. "Neither you nor that whore deserve my respect!"
At the slur, his whole body tensed. To soothe him, Skyrah touched his hand so briefly and subtly Bellatrix missed it. She didn't miss how unperturbed Skyrah was. It wasn't only her name, that was familiar, but her ridiculously calm attitude.
"Bellatrix Lestrange, isn't it? I'm afraid I can't say it is a pleasure to meet you. Didn't your parents teach you to treat your superiors with respect? Surely, coming from the noble and most ancient House of Black, some pure-blood manners were expected. Your sister never forgets them."
"You aren't my superior!"
"Yet you believe I am special to your Lord in a way you aren't."
Bellatrix glowered at Snape when she caught his sardonic grin, unashamedly enjoying the way Skyrah's words were affecting her.
Skyrah cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to herself, and asked, "Is there anything you wished to tell us? I wasn't exaggerating when I said I was tired. I'd like to go home, and it is clear you deeply dislike us. The sooner you talk, the quicker we'll leave."
Bellatrix studied her before giving an answer. She hated the fact that Skyrah was right as much as the glow of her skin, probably due to the pregnancy.
"How did you get pregnant with the heir?"
"I thought you understood the mechanics of sexual intercourse."
"I wasn't asking you, Snape." Bellatrix's eyes lanced through Skyrah. "I want to know why the Dark Lord chose you, why he reckoned you could give him an heir and not..."
"You?" Skyrah finished for her, face slightly softening for the first time. "He's never told me the reason. He must have some sort of… erectile dysfunction that potions cannot treat."
"He doesn't!"
"You would know, wouldn't you?" asked Snape with an irritating smirk on his face. "Does your spouse know that you keep the Dark Lord's bed warm at night?"
Skyrah's eyes widened; Bellatrix couldn't tell if she was surprised at the news or at Snape's crudeness.
"Clearly, I'm not the only one who's spread her legs for him!" Bellatrix huffed, staring meaningfully at the inflated belly.
Skyrah made a choking sound. "Bellatrix, I'm aware that it isn't uncommon for pureblood families like your own to marry relatives and have children with them. My father, however, has never touched me that way."
"…Your father?"
"The Dark Lord," clarified Snape, rolling his eyes. "Didn't you know? Perhaps he doesn't trust you as much as you think."
Bellatrix was too shocked to shoot a come-back. She analyzed Skyrah's features, instead, touching her face. If Skyrah was uncomfortable by her proximity and brusque caresses, she didn't show it.
"That mouth…" Her thumb touched Skyrah's lips. Yes, that shape and fullness, those lips were identical to Andraste's. Skyrah was the heiress. The Dark Lord had chosen Andraste over her, and now he had chosen their daughter over her. Was she cursed, too?
"If the Dark Lord isn't the father," said Bellatrix, withdrawing her hand, "the heir…"
"Was fathered by my husband."
Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow, gaze flickering from Skyrah to Snape repeatedly, finally falling on Skyrah. "Don't tell me you married him, of all people."
"I did. I fail to see why that matters to you."
"His daughter shouldn't be married to someone who lives in a muggle dunghill!"
"My father arranged the marriage," she said, eyes slightly narrowed. "He believes his most loyal Death Eater is my best match."
"His most loyal Death Eater?" Bellatrix snorted. "Please!"
"Are you, by any means, implying that the Dark Lord is mistaken? Maybe you believe I have deceived the greatest wizard alive, the best Legilimens the world has ever seen. Should I report that you question his intelligence in our next meeting?" Bellatrix kept quiet, causing Snape to smirk triumphantly. She couldn't stand his smugness. "I thought so."
"Are you completely sure it's a boy?" asked Bellatrix.
"If it were a girl, Father wouldn't be pleased with the pregnancy."
Although Skyrah's expression didn't give anything away, her low voice had quivered as much as Andraste's when recalling the miscarriages.
"This isn't the first time you're pregnant. He killed your baby girl…"
A low sound was heard. It grew into a scornful laugh that echoed across the room. The Snapes endured her sadistic joy, aware that any sign of pain would elate her, and that walking out would make her feel victorious. Eventually, Bellatrix clicked her tongue and said, "My only regret is that I wasn't there to witness it."
Skyrah didn't look away, focusing on keeping her occlumency walls thick enough not to show that cruel mockery was as agonizing as the cruciatus curse. Seeing she wasn't getting the reaction she wanted from Skyrah, Bellatrix turned to Snape. He was looking at her coolly, as expected.
"But he did you a favor by getting rid of that child, didn't he? You loathe children. You would have never got a witch pregnant if the Dark Lord himself hadn't asked you."
"I want what the Dark Lord wants," he answered in a confident voice. "Having a baby girl was not convenient at the time. We were asked to give him an heir, and he shall have him soon."
She wrinkled her mouth in disgust. "You're just playing a game, giving him what he desires, but the Dark Lord will see you as I see you someday, and he will take the heir away from you."
"Is that what you tell yourself to comfort yourself now that you know you aren't as valuable to him as his daughter and me?"
"Shut up!"
"Struck a nerve, didn't I?"
"The Dark Lord should have chosen me! Neither of you are worthy of him!"
"Aren't we? While you were in Azkaban, entirely useless, I built up Dumbledore's trust and infiltrated the Order. Now that you're back, you failed to give him the prophecy while I gave him exactly what he asked of me. As for my wife, she is spying on Potter, earning his trust. Tell me, would you be able to undertake such task?"
Bellatrix's cheeks flushed. It took her a moment to reply, and when she did, it was to Skyrah, not to Snape.
"You aren't the daughter the Dark Lord deserves. You should respect him and worship him."
"Like you? But you don't only do that, do you? You love him. That's why you detest the thought of me or anybody else being more prized to him than you."
Knowing Andraste, it shouldn't have surprised Bellatrix that Skyrah was so observant or that she had the power to get under her skin. Bellatrix didn't like it. She didn't like, either, how unpredictable mother and daughter were. She certainly didn't expect Skyrah to put a hand on her sunken cheek, nor for it too feel so pleasant and warm. For a few seconds and against her better judgement, Bellatrix closed her eyes and pretended it was her lover who touched her so gently. She'd have caught the feeble smile Skyrah flashed otherwise.
"If only he could love you..."
There it was: the constant reminder that she was talking to the product of her Lord and that Carrow girl. Both mother and daughter wished her good despite the fact they should think of her as an enemy. Bellatrix drew back abruptly, as repulsed as if a filthy muggle had been the one caressing her face.
Taking that as their cue to go, the Snapes walked towards the door. They had almost reached it when her voice resounded across the drawing room, making them stop dead in their tracks.
"You're just like your mother."
Although Skyrah held her tongue, the ghost of a grin, half-cheeky half-relieved, was something she could not suppress. It didn't matter when Bellatrix couldn't see her. By the time she turned to face Bellatrix, an unreadable expression was back on her face.
"What do you know about my mother?"
"She's rotting. Malnourished. Insane. A downtrodden blood traitor! The Dark Lord knows you're just like her… That's why she hasn't been seen the sunlight in over a year, why he chose his most loyal Death Eater to marry you," Bellatrix finished in a mocking voice, letting them know her mistrust in Snape was as strong as ever .
"Well, then, if I'm being coerced, you needn't worry."
"The Dark Lord shouldn't have to manipulate you. You should feel honored to carry his blood. If I had a daughter with him, she'd be nothing like you. She'd be everything he wanted her to be."
"I don't doubt it." Skyrah could have easily ended the conversation there, she almost did, but she found herself adding, "My mother loved him, too."
"Don't you dare compare us!"
Skyrah ignored both, Bellatrix's screams and Snape's hand on her shoulder, urging her to leave the scene right then. "She tried everything for Father to love us." Skyrah paused, shutting her eyes momentarily, in pain. "If he doesn't love me, his own flesh and blood, why would he love you? Love is weakness. He always says so, and Father isn't weak. For your sake, let your feelings for him fade away."
Bellatrix didn't stop the Snapes when they walked out of the door. Her cheek still felt warm.
Home at last, Severus asked, "Are you two okay?"
Touched, Skyrah took his hands, which were resting on the baby bump, and gave them a brief squeeze. "We're fine."
"You said you were weary..."
"Occlumency is even more tiring than usual when you're with child."
Severus brought her hands to his mouth, kissing them both, and guided her towards the couch. She ended up lying with her head on his lap, giving him easy access to her loose hair to toy with. Her feet hung by the arm of the couch.
"Better?"
She purred, making him smile gently. The quietness of the living room and the faint scent of lilies that came from the garden invited their minds to think about the meeting and its consequences. That was all they did for minutes.
"If Bellatrix is right and Father can have children," started Skyrah, breaking the silence. "Why would he ask us to give him an heir? Is he giving me something he knows I'll love with my whole heart only to use our baby to hurt me or manipulate me, as he does with my mother?"
"I don't see why he would need you to have a baby for that when he has your mother. His age and the making of the horcruxes might have affected his ability to conceive."
"I hope you're right…" She paused. "My mother must have been in Lestrange Manor, but Bellatrix wouldn't have brought her up if she still were captive, would she?"
"She wouldn't. Bellatrix is impulsive and reckless, but she wouldn't do anything to anger the Dark Lord."
"I'm still worried. Merlin knows what the Death Eaters are doing to my mother."
"The Dark Lord needs her. If Bellatrix is right and you are just like your mother, she will bear it all until the Dark Lord is defeated."
Had it not been for the way she bit her bottom lip to stop its nervous quiver, the nod she gave him would have been convincing.
"It's hard to remember I'm not only my father's daughter but also my mother's. I almost thanked Bellatrix for reminding me."
"She meant it as an insult. Your thanking her would have enraged her."
"You'd have liked that, wouldn't you?" she teased, catching his crooked smile. "You enjoy provoking her."
"Can you blame me? I can't decide who is more infuriating: Bellatrix or Umbridge."
"At least, Bellatrix doesn't feign politeness and hide behind kittens and pink clothes," Skyrah said with a chuckle. "Harry would be disappointed in me if he knew this, but I actually pity her. She doesn't feel loved. That's a cruel fate."
"Narcissa loves her," Severus said after a while, unsure about how to feel about her confession.
"Sisterly love isn't enough for her. She longs for his love," she insisted, sitting up. Her back was starting to protest, and she found that sitting right beside him, despite missing his fingers on her hair, was for the best. "My mother wasn't truly happy until she understood how twisted Father is and learned to let him go. My grandmother and Dione's father helped her. Bellatrix hasn't got anybody to guide her."
"Regardless, she doesn't deserve your pity."
"She has it anyway."
"She has committed appalling crimes."
"Who hasn't?"
She once told Severus she had done nasty things, too, things she had never elaborated on nor had he inquired about. By her dark tone, they were comparable to Bellatrix's barbaric acts.
No.
No, Skyrah wasn't vicious. Whatever she had done couldn't be worse than the sins he'd committed himself, let alone Bellatrix.
"I know you like me in spite of this," he said, touching his Dark Mark through the black fabric. "And I couldn't be more grateful, believe me, but Bellatrix doesn't repent of anything she's done in his name. Your liking her makes me feel… uncomfortable."
A rueful grin appeared on her face.
"Not in spite of but because." She brought his head down and pecked his wrinkled forehead. "I like you because you made the best of your mistakes. Without them, your soul wouldn't be so beautiful."
His breath caught in his throat. He wanted another kiss from her – on his mouth, preferably – but his body didn't respond and his mind was digesting what his heart already knew: unlike Lily, Skyrah wasn't afraid of his dark side. Although he didn't get a kiss, she did take his arm and caress the area that covered the symbol of his past mistakes. He began to relax, even more when she added, "Pitying someone isn't the same as liking someone. Trust me, I was tempted to hex her when she said I shouldn't have married you."
He envisioned the scenario, and though, had it truly happened, he'd have joined his wife and made sure no harm came to her or their baby, he had to admit the idea of Skyrah teaching Bellatrix a lesson would be quite the spectacle.
"She would have had it coming after laughing at our loss and calling you a…"
"Whore?"
He tensed, like he had done back in Malfoy Manor when Bellatrix had used that word. "She disrespected you."
"I only spread my legs, as she put it, for you." She paused, finding his scarlet cheeks both amusing and endearing. "I care about what the people I love think of me, not what a mad Death Eater does."
"Yet you got offended when she implied you deserve better than me," he said with a tilt of his head and an arched eyebrow.
"I guess it's easy to disregard her insults when they're thrown at me. When they're thrown at someone I love, though..." she trailed off, pensive. "You deserve me. You know that, don't you?"
He ducked his head, his hair acting like a veil that concealed any flicker of emotion that crossed his face. If not, she would have sensed his fear of her love being a product of mere luck, something fragile that had only happened because her first love was dead and she had been forced to live with him. He had forgotten that, apart from being perceptive, Skyrah didn't give up easily, and so she took his trembling hand and settled it on her womb, claiming, "You deserve us."
His breath hitched slightly. After much hesitation, he began to caress the baby bump, hoping his son would be in the mood of making his presence known.
"I did not deny it when Bellatrix said that I loathe children or that the Dark Lord had done me a favor by…" He swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence. He couldn't keep his hand on her belly either. It reminded him of all the times she'd do that herself, when the grief was too recent and hopeless.
"You never loathed our girl. When we lost her, you were as heartbroken as me," croaked Skyrah. "You told Bellatrix what she had to hear."
"But I am relieved now. I am relieved that we lost her. How can I be deserving of you and our son when I'm relieved an innocent girl, our baby, died?"
This is it, he thought, the moment Skyrah realized she didn't want anything to do with someone as dark as him. Her prolonged silence confirmed it. He expected her to go to the garden to think or to her sister to cry. She didn't move.
"I'm relieved too," she finally murmured. He was so shocked he turned to look at her. "If Father had found out later, he would have killed her anyway. The pain would have been even greater, and now we wouldn't be expecting our baby boy."
"I'm not only relieved because of that. I wouldn't have been a good father to her, and I would have hated myself. I'm still afraid I won't be enough for our son."
"You were good to our girl. You are everything our boy needs you to be."
"I'm a spy!" he blew up. "I shouldn't be a father. I shouldn't–"
"Be happy?" she countered fiercely, clenching her jaw.
"I still remember how the Dark Lord hit you and choked you. If he forced me to harm our boy in a similar way or if he did it himself, I..." He trailed off, distressed at the thought alone. "I don't want to be the kind of father that can't keep his son safe. I wouldn't be better than Tobias. Every day, I wonder what will happen if the Dark Lord finds out Bellatrix is right. If he takes our son away from me, from us, he will grow up to be ruthless."
"He's the heir," she said quite cuttingly. "As long as my father lives, he will be in danger. I can't think of anybody better suited to protect our son than you. You already are a better father than Tobias ever was."
Severus shook his head. "I couldn't protect our daughter."
She didn't offer an immediate reply, most likely reliving that fateful day yet again. That was what Severus himself was doing.
"We couldn't," she said at last.
"It wasn't your fault."
"Nor yours. When you found out I was pregnant again, you said you would do everything in your power to be the father he deserves. You haven't broken that promise. You won't. Even if you don't see it yet, you're the father our baby needs. You will teach him the importance of redemption and courage and loyalty and wit and dedication, and make sure I don't give him too many sweets," she finished with a teasing smile that didn't manage to elicit one of his own.
He was too worried for that to happen.
"I'm afraid I won't live up to your expectations."
"I've seen you with Harry. If you treat the son of your bully like a father would... No, don't interrupt me. If you treat Harry like that, what makes you think you won't be the same with our baby?" Her face softened, as did her voice when she spoke next. "It's okay to be afraid of parenthood. I am, too, but I also know that this–" She took his hand and set it back on her belly. "–is the best thing I've ever done, and that's all I need to know to overcome my fear."
He pressed his cheek against the side of her head with a strangled sob. "This is the best thing that's ever happened to me. But nothing good ever lasts long for me. I always screw up, even when I don't mean to. I'd never forgive myself if I pushed you away like I did with Lily."
She shifted a bit and chanted an incantation so lowly he failed to recognize it until a weightless silver crow perched on his shoulder. When its beak pecked his cheek, a profound feeling came over him. He had not dared label it at the beginning of their relationship, and when he finally admitted it was love, he responded with awkwardness. Now he welcomed it with closed eyes, letting her love wash away all his insecurities.
"Once, I told you that you'd never push me away, and you promised me you'd always be by my side. Crows mate for life, remember?"
He opened his eyes and brushed the pendant he gifted her for her birthday with his free hand – he hadn't removed the other from the baby bump. Even though her patronus had faded away by then, that warm feeling it had evoked in him hadn't vanished with it.
"What would I do without you?"
"Scowl more often," she answered, grinning half-fondly half-impishly at him. "Your library as well as your wardrobe would be more organized. You'd have a double bed all for yourself, and you'd probably have more time to brew potions other than lotions and balms against back pain, swollen legs and stretch marks."
He smiled despite himself. "It was a rhetorical question."
"I know, but I like teasing you."
"Cheeky witch."
Far from giving him a cheeky smile, proving him right, she got serious. "Do you still believe we don't deserve you?"
"I try to remember that I deserve the happiness you bring me," he rasped, averting her eyes at all costs out of fear his answer wouldn't be enough for her.
To his amazement, she planted kisses on his cheeks, like her crow had done. Not only was it enough for her, she was grateful, too. With his heartbeat unexpectedly rising, he crushed his mouth to hers before she could pull away. She yelped in delighted surprise and succumbed to the kiss as soon as the shock passed. It didn't last for as long as he desired, nor was it deepened, for she quickly broke it with a gasp.
"He hasn't even been born yet and he's already interrupting us before we can get started," she said, chuckling to herself.
His frown disappeared the moment she brought his palm, which hadn't stopped caressing the baby bump, to that one spot he could feel their son, lurching and stretching, full of life. No matter how many times Severus had felt him, he still got a half-goofy half-in-awe grin on, like it was the first time. Skyrah wished she had a camera, muggle or wizarding, to capture the moment and someday show her mother the kind of man she had married. Little did she know that Dione and Harry were hidden under the invisibility cloak, getting the perfect angle with the camera Ron had lent them.
20th September 1997
Bellatrix was flying unsupported, although only scarce centimeters separated her feet from the floor. By her scowl, she had been trying to reach the ceiling without success so far. Rodolphus had yet to master the spell himself as well.
"So this is the room Narcissa and Lucius accommodated for you. Not close enough to the Dark Lord, is it?"
"I told them not to tell you where I am," she growled as her feet hit the floor.
"It wasn't them." She pressed her lips thin and watched him pace around, with his hands clasped behind his back. "I have just attended an extremely informative meeting. I learned about your whereabouts, the flying spell Snape's wife designed and…" He paused, eyes dwelling on a belly that was yet quite flat. "The Dark Lord expects us to raise our child to be a devoted servant."
His voice dripped sarcasm.
"Did you tell him?"
"That you're an unfaithful wife? Everybody knows you cheat on me with him, Bella. I just didn't know you fucked other wizards."
"Playing the victim doesn't suit you. You fuck so many witches and wizards I doubt you remember all of their names. I only fuck one."
He choked. "It's his. You, disgusting–"
"If you harm the baby, I'll kill you."
She meant it, and he knew it. Her threats were never empty. Still, he didn't appear scared. If anything, he was amused.
"The Dark Lord will kill her before that happens. He isn't after an heiress."
Her eyes widened, shocked he'd known the sex of the baby.
"Rosalind…" she muttered under her breath. "Your sister. You never told me why he used the killing curse on her."
"She got pregnant with his child. A girl. He wanted a boy." Rodolphus gave her a grin that made her shudder. "He'd never want to have a child with you, not when he already has an heir and an heiress. I would have never said that you, of all people, would be disloyal to him…"
"I'm not!"
"You somehow deceived him and got pregnant with an unwanted child. He'll reward me when I tell him about your flagrant betrayal. He'll get rid of your spawn first, and then he'll crucio you and–"
Her shove, though hefty and unexpected enough to cut him off, barely moved him. Even after his stay in Azkaban, he was physically stronger than her. Her gaze was intense, full of an emotion he would describe as hate, but if it was hate, how come she was kissing him? How come she let him push her against the wall and bring her face roughly to his, scratching her cheek? The last time she had kissed him willingly, they had been engaged, excited to receive the Dark Mark after graduating from Hogwarts and restore the pure-blood power over the world. Once marked, the Dark Lord's hands had been the only ones she had allowed near her skin. If Rodolphus hadn't become too lost in the fight for dominance and the passion he thought no longer existed between them, he might have suspected she was up to something. He felt her hands trailing his back, then one on his jaw. A crack was heard. When she hooked a leg around his hip, he couldn't bring himself to bother where the noise had come from. It had been a book falling from the shelf nearby, for all he cared.
At the short feeling of something sharp on his neck, his eyes flew open, and he stopped kissing her. He took an instinctive step back, enough to see her dropping the splinters of his wand on the floor.
"You, bitch!" he advanced towards her and halted at the sight of her silver knife.
He had forgotten she always kept it in the thigh holster hidden under her skirt. Before he knew it, he was the one leaning against the wall. The knife returned to his neck. To his shame, a small cry escaped his throat.
"Don't be such a baby, Rodolphus. It hasn't damaged your skin…" Her eyes glinted dangerously when she added, "Yet."
"You can't kill me. I'm valuable to the Dark Lord."
She snorted. "Don't overestimate yourself. There are plenty of capable wizards and witches who are smarter, more powerful and more cunning than you."
"He'd still punish you."
She brought the blade to his wrist. "Not if I make it look like a suicide…"
Despite the airstream caused by the open arched window, he was sweating so much his robes clung to his body. He had never attempted a wandless disapparition, and now, with the sharp blade threatening to sink into his skin, was not the best moment to try. Reasoning with his wife had never resulted in a favorable outcome either. If he shoved her off him and attempted to run, she'd throw her knife at him with accurate aim. Begging was his only alternative. That was what she wanted: to have power over him; and he'd grant it if his life depended on it.
"Don't do this! I won't tell! I won't tell him of your betrayal!"
"We both know you aren't a man of your word, Rodolphus. A simple promise isn't enough for me."
"What do you want of me?"
She didn't answer, and when his eyes shifted from the knife to her wicked grin, he began to understand.
"No… You can't possibly–"
"Your brother will be the bonder," she interrupted him. "Obliviating him afterwards will be no problem, and you… You'll do everything I say."
That night, Bellatrix went to sleep knowing that Rodolphus would protect the baby, pretend to be her father and keep the secret at all costs. He may not be a man of word, but his self-preservation had always been greater than his ambition and resourcefulness, and breaking an unbreakable vow wasn't something he was minded to do, even if it meant suppressing the truth from the Dark Lord himself and becoming as much of a traitor as his wife.
13th March 1998
"Come with me."
There was something unsettling about her voice: it held no force. Still, Narcissa deliberately covered her face with the latest Weekly Witch installment to read The Easiest Chocolate Liqueur Cake recipe, which, according to its author, had the same effects on its eaters than those an Elixir to Induce Euphoria had on its drinkers. Never mind she wouldn't cook it herself or eat more than just a thin slice if she ever were offered some. She had a diet to stick to if she wanted to fit in her favorite dresses without resorting to her couturier's long-lasting transfiguration charms.
"I don't have time for your immature behavior," grumbled Bellatrix.
"Funny. I thought you were the immature one, burning the presents I bought for your baby."
"It's not my fault you're so sensitive. They were only a rattle and a stuffed puffskein, mere toys."
"They weren't mere toys," Narcissa countered, turning a page so brusquely she almost tore it. "This isn't even about them. You never talk to me about your child. You haven't even told me if it's a boy or a girl! I feel like you don't want me to be part of the baby's life!"
"Cissy, please."
Bellatrix only used that word when she addressed the Dark Lord. Warily, Narcissa placed the magazine on the coffee table and turned to face Bellatrix. What she saw, her very pregnant sister leaning on the doorway and with eyes closed, as if keeping them open required too much strength, stunned her to the point she almost missed Bellatrix's skirt was wet with the water that had recently broken. Narcissa cleaned and dried it with a quick spells.
"I have to take you to Saint Mungo's," she said, the sisterly quarrel long forgotten.
Bellatrix opened her eyes in fright and gripped her by the shoulders, nearly losing balance. "No! They can't know! Nobody can know about this baby!"
"Healers and midwives need to see you."
"I won't go to Saint Mungo's. I'll do this with or without you."
Her pride was speaking. Narcissa knew that trick too well. It was the kind all Blacks pulled with proficiency. Bellatrix attempted to walk on her own, headed to what she now called her bedroom. She hadn't gone far before she felt her body soar, carried by Narcissa's levitation spell. She was thankful her sister had chosen to help her, for Bellatrix didn't complain. Once her back hit the mattress, Narcissa hastened to place all the cushions in such a way Bellatrix could rest as comfortably as possible.
"Can't hear… He can't hear. We mustn't disturb him."
Narcissa cast the charms that would prevent Voldemort from overhearing the screams that would surely follow.
"Breathe deeply," she instructed, noticing Bellatrix was starting to hyperventilate. It earned Narcissa a snort.
"Easy for you to say."
Narcissa breathed deeply herself. Reluctantly, Bellatrix followed her rhythm and discovered that, despite failing to lessen her pain, it cleared her mind and calmed her down, if only a bit.
"Now what?"
"I'm not sure. The medi-witch who works at Hogwarts is the heir's godmother. Severus could ask her for her help."
"If you think I'm going to owe that traitor, think– " Bellatrix took a sharp breath. "Think twice."
"Severus has always helped my son. He will help your baby."
"Snape won't be involved in this!"
Narcissa thought about the day her only son was born, hoping her own experience would be helpful enough when Bellatrix refused to accept professional help.
"I was given some potions with Draco. They didn't stop the pain, but they helped. I expect you got some."
Bellatrix bit her bottom lip to keep from groaning and gestured towards the nightstand. "F-first…"
Narcissa opened the first drawer. There they were, all labelled. She helped Bellatrix drink them all, hoping they wouldn't need the last one, the blood-replenishing potion. Next, she recited the advice she received when delivering Draco not to push until she couldn't resist the feeling anymore. Bellatrix wiped some sweat that had started to accumulate on her brow. Her lips trembled. To ease her increasing pain, Narcissa reclined on the right side of the bed and brought Bellatrix's head to her shoulder, combing her fingers through that untamed mane, so different from her own.
"I'm not a child," Bellatrix complained – the problem was that she had no strength to pull back, and Narcissa wouldn't stop, perhaps because it seemed to work on adult Bellatrix almost as well as it used to work on little Narcissa, when she snuggled into her big sister's bed after waking up from a nightmare.
"Will you tell me now about the sex of the baby?"
It was a simple question, one that would distract Bellatrix from the pain until pushing couldn't be delayed.
"A girl," she revealed, figuring Narcissa would find out soon enough anyway. "He can only have girls."
Strange words to say, thought Narcissa, as strange as the fact she hadn't asked her to floo call Rodolphus yet. Surely, he'd want to be there to meet his daughter. When Narcissa inquired about that, all she got was silence.
"You didn't say his name, just 'he'…" Narcissa whispered to herself, growing suspicious. "Rodolphus isn't the father."
If Narcissa had been able to see her face in their position, she'd seen Bellatrix looked half-amused half-proud of her conclusion despite the contractions she was suffering.
"Who's the father? Do you know it?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know, Bella. You tell me," she scoffed. "Because certain rumors circulated long before I witnessed you sneaking into the Dark Lord's room, and if I weren't sure he doesn't want a baby, I'd suspect it's his."
Bellatrix grunted and squeezed her hand tighter, reminding Narcissa of the moment she had bruised Lucius's hand herself, when she feared she wouldn't make it past the labor. The pain wore off, and a laugh that perturbed Narcissa echoed in the room.
"By the love of… It is. Is this part of one of his schemes? Is that why you didn't tell me?"
"It had nothing to do with his plans."
"The Dark Lord doesn't know," said Narcissa, round-eyed. The grim smile Bellatrix flashed confirmed it. "What have you done? If he finds out about her, he'll view this as betrayal and he'll–"
"He won't know yet," Bellatrix interrupted her, breathing deeply. "He'll be thankful in the end. He'll reward me. He believes Rodolphus is the father, and for the time being, it'll stay that way."
Narcissa shook her head in disbelief. She didn't dare ask how she'd persuaded Rodolphus into doing something as drastic as lying to the Dark Lord.
"Doesn't he suspect?"
"Mother trained us well, Cissy."
Their mother had trained them well indeed, in Occlumency and Legilimency, and most important of all, in the art of trickery. Narcissa didn't know just how well until then.
"What did you say for him not to cast the anti-conceptive charm?"
"I convinced him that I was already pregnant."
And if he had suspected one of his most faithful followers had lied to him, her adept Occlumency skills would have proved him wrong.
"It takes one second of distraction, Bella, one second, and he will find out, and then–"
"He won't find out! Not yet!" she yelped. "He can't! He'd kill his own daughter!"
Narcissa frowned, thinking about Skyrah Snape. "It wouldn't be the first time he has a child. He didn't kill her."
"Precisely!" She gazed up at her sister with mad eyes. Startled by the brusque movement, Narcissa stopped playing with those unruly curls. "He already has an heiress and an heir! But Snape's whore is nothing like she should be. It's her, he has to kill. Not my baby. My baby is the real heiress, the daughter that will make him proud."
In her discomfort, she hardly noticed Narcissa flinching at the way she referred to her friend's spouse.
"Why do you believe he would kill his baby?"
"Remember Andraste Carrow?"
The expression on Narcissa's face seemed to say 'How could I ever forget her?' Bellatrix would constantly whine about the Dark Lord's favorite before receiving her sentence.
"Andraste Fawley, now. I know her personally."
"Kept the blood traitor in a cell, did you?" asked Bella with a crooked grin that did little to conceal the grimace of pain on her face. Maybe that was why she rested her head back on Narcissa's shoulder, to pretend her insides were not twisting. "She gave birth to the Dark Lord's first-born."
"First? You mean he has more children?"
"He killed them, and most of their mothers. All baby girls. He was cursed to have only girls."
"Fawley told you that? Why do you believe her?"
"Rosalind Lestrange. She and her baby were murdered. Rodolphus told me. And the Dark Lord's daughter…" She took a deep breath and bit her bottom lip with so much force Narcissa feared drops of blood would start trickling down her chin.
"What about Skyrah?"
"She was pregnant with a girl before conceiving the heir."
Narcissa would have registered her words if they hadn't been followed by a shrill scream. Bellatrix couldn't talk anymore, she could barely think, so Narcissa helped her sit back with flexed legs and positioned herself in front of her. It was torturous, to hear her sister cry until she had no voice; to see her closing her fists so strongly her nails scratched her palm until it bled. Narcissa wished there was someone else in the room, someone that would do the job while she kept encouraging and holding her sister's hand. Aware that wouldn't happen, she occluded, just like their mother had taught them. It was the only way to concentrate and not let her feelings get the best of her.
By the time the baby was wrapped in clean linen and in her mother's arms, they needed lit candles spread across the room to see each other. The blood-replenishing potion vial was intact on the nightstand. Only when she stopped occluding, did Narcissa appreciate how bonny the baby looked. Her hair color, glittery silver, was uncommon for a baby. The only logical explanation she had was that, just like her cousin, this baby was a metamorphmagus or, at the very least, had inherited some of their powers. Narcissa didn't comment on it; Bellatrix would be reminded of Andromeda and how much pain they went through when their sister left them for a mudblood.
"She's so tiny," whispered Bellatrix, eyes full of worry.
"All babies are."
"Not like this. Draco wasn't like this. You weren't like this."
Narcissa raised her eyebrows. "You remember the day I was born?"
"I remember your annoying bawls in particular."
Narcissa smirked. "It's a sister's job to annoy her sister… and to be there when she needs her." She paused, having just noticed the baby had her mother's lips, too. "Does she have a name yet?"
Bellatrix looked outside the window. From the bed, she made out a few constellations she easily recognized – she had learned them as a kid under her mother's insistence. It had served her in Hogwarts; if not for that, she would have had a harder time passing her Astronomy OWLs.
"Delphini."
"Delphinus is one of the smallest yet most beautiful constellations," acknowledged Narcissa, humming in approval.
"It's the one that shines the brightest tonight."
Narcissa smiled gently at her sister, and gave her a nod. "It suits her." Seeing Bellatrix had gone back to analyzing every wrinkle in her daughter's face, equally amazed and awkward, Narcissa inquired, "Should I leave you two alone?"
Bellatrix winced, and her eyes grew in alarm. "No! Not yet!"
The abrupt movement and the yelp got Delphini, who'd been as serene as the night until then, crying. Bellatrix cursed under her breath and rocked the baby too quickly for a newborn. The more Bellatrix tried to calm her down, the more piercing Delphini's cries turned. Narcissa watched them, giving Bellatrix time to solve it on her own. She recalled how embarrassing it was for a mother to see how others soothed her child while she kept failing.
It came to a point Bellatrix groaned and looked at Narcissa, seeking succor. Taking pity on her sister, Narcissa opened her arms. Bellatrix didn't hesitate to pass her the newborn. Distressed as the baby was, Narcissa couldn't help but grin at Delphini and stroke her damp cheeks with her thumb. She rocked her, too, though so smoothly it barely looked like it. Observing the delicateness and tenderness in which she held her niece, self-doubt invaded her whole being. Bellatrix had wanted this. She had wanted to be the mother of this child, and still, she wondered if she'd find that gentleness somewhere in her dark soul, or if she'd grow to be as cold a mother as her own had been.
"Hello there, Delphi," crooned Narcissa in a voice Bellatrix had only heard her use with Draco. She waited for Bellatrix to whine about the nickname. When it was obvious Bellatrix approved, she continued, "You are so beautiful. You definitely take that after Black's side. Your mummy doesn't mean to scare you when she shouts. She loves you so much. She's doing everything she can to protect you. I'll help her, because she is my big sister, and because you are the most adorable niece I could have ever asked for. I already love you." Narcissa stopped to kiss her nose. "Hush now, Delphi. That's it. Your mummy and your aunt are with you."
To Bellatrix's astonishment, the room became absolutely quiet. If she hadn't witnessed the scene, she'd have said her sister had put a spell on Delphini. "How on earth…"
"Talking to Draco in a calm voice would calm him down. If you scream, they scream. If you are nervous, they get nervous… Babies sense how you are feeling. Try to remain calm, and Delphi will hush. If it doesn't work, it should be due to hunger or sleep, or they may need a change of nappy or be sick. Baby Draco was like that."
Bellatrix nodded and extended her arms, urging Narcissa to return the baby. Delphini kept silent for a while, and Narcissa was gifted with a rare sight, that of her beaming sister. The only thing that would make Bellatrix scowl was Delphini's cries, which came back with more force.
"Bloody hell!"
"Calm tone, Bella. She must be hungry."
Before Bellatrix asked, Narcissa taught Bellatrix how to breastfeed, telling her what worked best with baby Draco, and what she knew she had known before starting breastfeeding. Bellatrix listened attentively, following all the instructions. A while later, only rhythmic gulps and swallows came from Delphini. Narcissa, seated on the bed, watched them with unhidden nostalgia.
"I've always wanted to give Draco siblings to be raised the way we were, never alone. He'd be a good big brother, especially to a little girl."
"He still can be… Unless Lucius is against it."
"If it were up to my husband, our family would be larger than the Weasleys."
"What's the matter, then? Does he have problems keeping it up?" she asked with a snigger.
Bellatrix realized she had been too crass when Narcissa refused to look at her. It wasn't often that she felt guilt, and when the feeling struck, as now, she never knew what to do or say.
"Lucius isn't the problem. I am." A small gasp escaped Bellatrix, eyes dilating in shock. Narcissa gulped and finally turned her head to look at her sister. "I had many difficulties getting pregnant. The healers told me I'd never give birth to a child. Lucius believes that Draco is a miracle, and that we were fated to have him against all odds."
"But he isn't a product of fate, is he?" guessed Bellatrix, eliciting a sad smile from Narcissa.
"You said Mother trained us well."
Bellatrix blanched. A list of possibilities crossed her mind, all of which involved fooling Lucius, and when Narcissa spoke next, Bellatrix felt sick.
"I went to Severus for help. He brewed some Fertility Elixir for me."
"For free, I'm sure," Bellatrix sneered.
"I purchased the rare ingredients and gave him a considerate sum, yes, but no more than what they asked in Knockturn Alley. Draco was worth all that money and more. I trusted Severus." Narcissa ignored the scathing sound Bellatrix made. "It's an illegal potion and he would have been in trouble had he been discovered. He ran the risk for me. Severus has guarded the secret. Lucius doesn't know, and I ask you not to tell him."
"Why lie to your husband?"
"Because it's humiliating. I've always wanted to be a mother, ever since I was a child and played with dolls, I knew I wanted to have babies. It's the reason women exist, isn't it? To bear children? That's what Mother would say. But I can't. I can't have babies."
"You can if you get another potion. Lucius will be none the wiser," she promised, no longer breastfeeding Delphi.
Narcissa shook her head, resigned. "Severus told me that the reason they banned the potion is that some women would become obsessed with having babies after using it once. They would drink more and more, hoping to have a second child, but the elixir only harmed their bodies and drove them mad. It allows you to enter motherhood, but it leaves you completely infertile after the first child."
"You never told me."
"You didn't tell me about Delphi's father either," said Narcissa rather defensively.
"That's different."
Even if Narcissa didn't believe so, she let it go. She couldn't stay angry for long when Delphini was there. Her greyish blue eyes, a color Narcissa was sure would change over time, lured her to press a tender kiss on her cheek.
"I won't be the mother of a second child, but I'll always have my niece. If you let me, I'll read her The Tales of Beedle the Bard and play Exploding Snap with her. I'll take her shopping and teach her all the constellations and be there whenever she needs me, to comfort her and remind her she is loved."
If Narcissa hadn't been busy adoring Delphini, she'd have noticed the pained expression on Bellatrix face. By the time Narcissa glanced at her sister, her occlumency walls had concealed it.
"If you could have a daughter, what would you name her?"
"I don't like thinking about that."
"Humor me."
Narcissa rubbed her own upper arms to comfort herself. When she finally uttered the name, it was nothing more than a whisper: "Heather."
Bellatrix was harkened back to a time in which she ran freely through a purple-tinted field close to the manor where the Blacks would spend the summer holidays, somewhere remote in Scotland. Narcissa and Andromeda followed closely, giggling and playing without a care in the world other than not ruining their fancy dresses and shoes lest their mother punished them. Andromeda would often stop to smell the heather and sometimes make a bouquet to bring home, whereas Narcissa would always ask Bellatrix to help her make a flower crown for each of them. It was the memory she had used at Hogwarts when she had been introduced to the patronus charm. When she failed to invoke her spirit guardian, she knew she never would, not when her happiest memory wasn't enough.
"But it doesn't matter," Narcissa murmured bitterly, bringing Bellatrix back to the present. "I'll never have another baby."
"Bollocks! You still can have your Heather."
"I told you. I can't have more–"
"She is Heather," Bellatrix cut her off, tilting her head towards the newborn. "Delphini Heather Lestrange."
For the longest time, Narcissa stared at her sister, no emotion flickering through her face except for her eyes, into which tears began to spring and trickle down her cheeks. It occurred to Bellatrix that naming the baby after the daughter Narcissa would never have was a curse rather than a blessing.
"If you don't like it–"
"I love it. I don't know how to thank you. I thought you didn't want me to be part of her life, but after this…" Narcissa dried her face with an embroidered handkerchief she vanished as quickly as she had conjured it. She brought her index finger to Delphini's hand, and grinned broadly when the baby grasped it. "I love her as my own daughter."
Bellatrix allowed Narcissa to plant kisses on Delphini's little palms and feet and hair. The baby smiled by reflex when Narcissa began to hum a lullaby, one that Bellatrix herself would sing to her sisters when they were afraid to walk through the dark corridors of their Manor.
"Don't you remember the lyrics?" wondered Bellatrix, when it finished.
"Oh, I do," said Narcissa with a small chuckle. "I used to sing it to Draco until Lucius told me, rather unsubtly, that humming would be better. Draco seemed to agree with him. Speaking of, Lucius must have come back from work already. Shall I look for him, so that he can meet his niece? I won't tell him about her true father."
Bellatrix didn't answer straightaway. She stared at her daughter and caressed the few silver strands on her head before looking back at Narcissa, who was beginning to grow worried.
"Bring Rodolphus here first, or else Lucius might suspect."
"All right."
Bellatrix grabbed Narcissa by the wrist before she could rise to her feet, holding Delphini with her other arm. She hesitated only a bit before thanking her. At first, Narcissa frowned, confused by both her gratitude and her uncharacteristically cloudy eyes, but then her expression softened, and she kissed Bellatrix on the cheek.
"Rest now. It's late," she whispered, thinking that sheer tiredness was the reason behind those unshed tears.
She couldn't have known that the moment she returned with Rodolphus, she'd be confounded, obliviated and imperiused to inform the Dark Lord that the baby had died during birth and that Rodolphus had taken his wife back to Lestrange Manor.
Their mother had trained them well.
As planned, Rodolphus took mother and daughter and to the main bedroom, the most spacious one. It had a crib and all sort of items a newborn baby would need he had prepared in advance. He hadn't bought toys, though. Bellatrix regretted having got rid of Narcissa's presents – Delphini could have had something of hers. It was too late for that, now. No sooner had Rodolphus slammed the door shut and left them alone than Delphini began to cry, perceiving how troubled her mother was. Contrary to her previous wailings, these sounded strangely familiar to the mournful chirps of the augureys, believed to predict death by some and forecast rainfalls by most.
"Shh… The fewer people that know about you, the safer you'll be. I can't risk your Aunt Cissy knowing about you. She'll be okay. She is with your uncle Lucius now. She won't remember holding you and kissing you, but she knows your name and loves you as much as I love you. You're her Heather." Bellatrix took a harsh breath, finding it hard not to cry as loudly as her baby. "Your father will love you one day, too. When you grow up, you will show him you are the heiress he deserves, and he will forget about his first daughter. Everything will be worth it."
Meanwhile, in Malfoy Manor, Lucius held Narcissa in his arms, lying in the bed their niece had died in. Narcissa kept looking at the sky, hoping the grey clouds would disperse and reveal the brightest constellation as she sobbed in sorrowful harmony with the pitter-patter of raindrops against the window.
A/N: Hope you liked "The Birth of the Augurey" :)
You may go to my profile to read the list of upcoming one-shots. If you have another prompt, don't be shy! Let me know ;) At the moment, I'm writing fluffy piece involving family-bonding time with the Snapes (as requested by several readers).