AN: Just a heads up Bella's OOC in this one and their speech is different (mainly due to me wanting to explore new things) also there is no Voldemort.
Chapter 1
In the pitch of the night, a child lies slumbering peacefully wrapped in the confines of black sheets and blankets. Her tiny body curled into the fetal position with arms cradling a mass of honeyed curls, one underneath a silk cloaked pillow the other lain idly atop centimetres from her face, whilst her legs bent are pulled slightly up to her chest. A picture of innocence, she sleeps onward as Morpheus weaves sweet images of dancing unicorns, chocolate frogs, and warm sunny days in her head unaware that'd she soon have company.
Black smoke seeps underneath the door first, whisping and curling against the grain then coming through in bellows until it nearly filled the room. Suddenly it begins to draw together wrapping, whirling, solidifying forming something solid, something new, something alive. The inky shadow of a figure stood formless save for the subtle outlining of its body.
Obsidian orbs glint in the full moon's light as crimson lips curl into a wicked smile. They were alone, truly completely alone. The figure approaches. And if one were looking in from the outside they'll be awaiting with bated breaths. The poor wee lamb unknowingly awaiting slaughter, yet- red teeth remain tucked away as does claws.
The beam hits the figure illuminating their entire body in a pale blue glow.
Clad in a nocturnal river of fabric that matched a wild mane of curls, Bellatrix Black seemed to be moulded to her surrounding with only her face showing against the darkness like a floating porcelain mask.
She reaches down and caresses a pale smooth cheek."My darling little heir, how I wonder what you dream of so deeply." A voice only reserved for the child beneath the Dark Lady's fingertips admits. "Doubtless it's of idle childish things, but still your queen wonders..."
A pause as she brushes a stray curl away.
"Are they of lollipops and gumdrops? Horses and laughter? Silly toys and magic? Just tell me, dear child of mine, tell me any of these sweet dreams of yours, and I shall move heaven and earth to make them true."
The girl slumbers onward and her mother sighs before finally sitting on the bed. "Vow to me you will not repeat, my daughter, but I must admit I envy you; for it has been ages since I've even dreamed at all. And though gumdrops and lollipops are sweetening your mind as we speak mine has rejected the slightest taste, I fear."
She reaches down once more and begins lightly scratching the girl's scalp.
The wee one presses into her mother's touch and smacks her lips causing Bellatrix to chuckle. "Precious Hermione, how your innocence does warm me." Onyx eyes regard the child fondly. "'Tis hard to believe such a tiny thing will one look me in the eye. And truthfully, dear daughter of mine," She lowers herself and props her jaw in hand. "I shall dread the day immensely."
Oh, how the purebloods would rain down brimstone if they came upon this scene. Their Dark Lady, Bellatrix Black of the Noble most Ancient House of Black cooing to her heir. Oh dear, oh dear, how she has softened; cooing and coddling a child like a common nursemaid. For shame.
Fools,
Does a dragoness not curl around her kits to keep them warm? Does a shewolf with muzzle stained red not gently bath her cubs with the very same mouth?
The very worst mistake those treacherous bastards could ever make is to underestimate her due to being a mother.
Circe above how she loathed them so.
Those old blooded pures who routinely sit in their ginormous homes with brandy in hand and nose toward the heavens spouting off in drawn-out stiff tones how mudbloods are stealing magic. Bah. As if they needed such magic most of them couldn't even cast a simple first-year charm. Bloody useless wastes of pure blood.
T'weren't for their galleons and blood statuses she'd have them all slaughtered like cattle.
And truthfully she'd come close a few times especially when pregnant. Barely old enough to kick in her womb and those bleeding decrepit old trolls had the absolute gall to send her daughter, flesh and blood to the most ancients, the heir of dark arranged marriage proposals.
Took all she had and a bit of talking to from Cissa not to curse the lot of them through the mail. Her daughter, much to her dismay, will marry someday but it will not be forced by her hand or anyone else's for that matter. Cygnus Black attempted to with her, despite her mother's protests and Rodulphus LeStrange wound up seriously injured in a pureblooded males most precious of parts rendering him useless for farther lines before the ring was ever placed upon her finger.
Tragedy such a..tragedy.
TskTsk
She smirks even now at the memory of the snivelling arrogant boy writhing on the ground clutching his person. As if she'd ever let that near her womb. Besides the fact that she preferred the fairer sex, the LeStrange men were notorious for being pathetic worms. Her mother knew that everybody else knew that, her father for some reason choose not care.
Of course, he found reason at the end of her mother's wand. Then there were two newly sterile men among the elite.
Serves the bastards right. Rosier women weren't broodmares. They did not stand idly by to be breed constantly. The only reason her mother had three is to carry on her own line. Never forget that you are a Rosier first and Black second. Her mother's voice echoes from the past.
None the less it still all was a bit ridiculous. This obsession with marriage and babies some purebloods had.
Can't a woman enjoy her child without such worries? Is it really so much to ask? They already grow so quickly why must they be pushed? Hermione whimpers and nuzzles closer to the heat.
The hurricane of thoughts are instantly calmed by the infantile sound and Bellatrix smiles reassuringly. "Ah do not fret, my darling, it matters nought for now just dream your dreams." She soothes, leaning down and giving a tiny forehead a loving peck.
To sleep perchance to dream
Bellatrix recalls the verse from a muggle play her sister dragged her to. 'Know thy enemy, Bella,' Was Cissa's excuse and though it was a good one Bellatrix had the deep overwhelming feeling that her sister had a secret love for this forbidden indulgence. Still, she said not a word. 'Twas, she begrudgingly admitted to herself, a beautiful piece.
Seems muggles had their uses after all. She thinks with amusement as she noses her daughter's curls.
Bellatrix inhales deeply and nearly purrs in contentment. The scent of sandalwood combined with a light hint of jasmine was like balm to her darkened soul. "So sweet from the inside out. I feel monstrous even being near you as if my past deeds may somehow taint thy innocence with a single touch, yet I can not stay away."
How could she when the absence of such a pure soul would send hers into utter madness? Bellatrix presses in closer even at the mere thought of such a thing, inhales, and relaxes once again.
The contented bliss, however, does not last.
For not even a tail flick later, the harsh sound of scraping rusted metal grates harshly against Bellatrix's ear as the heavy oak door is suddenly flung open. Her attention snaps to it just in time to see the bright beam of light from the entrance be immediately blocked by a figure barreling through with face and wand battle ready.
To her feet in an instant with crooked wand risen, Bellatrix meets the attacker full on.