DISCLAIMER: The ideas are mine. The characters and everything that is in the Harry Potter Universe belong to J.K.
Bella tossed and turned on her bed for a long time during her first night back home. Something was weighting on her.
When it was three o'clock she figured it was safe to leave her room. Bella locked the bathroom door behind her and listened for a minute or two, but there were no other sounds on the corridor outside. The house was asleep.
She stood in front of the full-length mirror across the sink and examined her image. She looks exactly as tall and skinny as she remembered being at Easter. Nothing had changed.
Bellatrix removed her nightgown and stared at herself in the mirror again. She examined her abdomen closely, but even now, she didn't notice anything different. She knew it was too soon; she was not supposed to start showing for a few more weeks, but even then, she was anxious. The girl turned on her side. Perhaps from that angle, she would be able to see something. No, nothing. Not even a slight bump. Everything was fine.
She redressed and returned back to her bedroom and fell asleep almost as soon as she lay on the bed.
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
The following morning Bellatrix had reason to be glad she had done that late-night mirror check: her mother had Bella and her sisters trying new dresses and dress robes for her.
"Do you like it?" Druella asked, absentmindedly, examining the blue fabric. "I ordered it months ago, they had to ship the fabrics from…"
She went on talking excitedly about the rareness of the silk and the price of the garments she had chosen.
Druella was like that. Most of the time she was a sullen woman, whose facial expression suggested permanent discontent with her own life. She preferred to have the house-elf bring her breakfast on a tray, rather than go down to the dining room to enjoy the company of her family. She took great pride in decorating the manor, in fact, some rooms seemed almost too crowded with vases and other expensive decorative items. However, she often neglected the planning of family meals and left the management of the kitchen entirely in the hands of their house-elves. They had two: one that had always been in the manor and one Druella brought with her when she got married.
She brightened up when they had company, although the degree of her excitement was proportional to how much she enjoyed the company of the guests. The rest of the time, she was a cold woman, who treated her husband with respect and distance. Aside from the occasional criticism or admonition, she hardly ever talked to the girls. Druella never asked them about how they were doing at school or what were their favourite classes. She never offered help with difficult spells or taught them something they wouldn't have learned in school. She never talked about boys and never offered advice on anything. Had she been asked, Druella would not have been able to tell what her daughters' favourite colours were, or what kind of food they liked the most. She seldom demonstrated any interest in the girls' lives at all.
Every now and again, however, she went on a compulsive spree and got the girls new robes, expensive dresses, small items of jewellery or other such things. She was all smiles on such occasions, and she insisted on having the girls try on the clothes for her straight away. She studied their bodies and how well the new clothes fitted them, often praising the fabrics, the artisans and her own qualities as a mother, for making sure her daughters were dressed in the very best gold could buy.
"These are yours," Druella handed Andromeda a pile of clothes when she finally entered the room.
"I am not trying them on in front of you."
"Don't be ridiculous, Andromeda, I am your mother," she replied drily.
"I am fourteen years old!" Andromeda protested firmly.
"Why does everything have to become a tug of war with you, Andromeda? Put on these clothes!"
"I will, as soon as you get out," Andromeda said, and then she added in a counterfeit manner, "Mother."
"Fine," Druella said, instructing them to call her when they were done, and leaving to wait in the adjoining room.
"Unbelievable," Andromeda muttered, and she started to take off her pyjamas as soon as her mother closed the door.
Bellatrix didn't say anything. She usually criticized her sister for confronting their mother in that manner, but today she was glad Andromeda had done that. The girl did have a point. It was embarrassing enough undressing in front of her mother. Now, the mere thought that she might notice something in her body that Bella had missed when she checked herself in the mirror the previous night made the girl's heart race with panic. She wasn't too keen on the idea of getting dressed in front of her sisters, but she was more or less confident they wouldn't notice anything. Besides, they were rather involved in a discussion of their own.
"I'm just saying," Cissy continued, "she did get us these dresses, and you could be a little more grateful!"
"I don't even like these," Andromeda said ill-manneredly. "I wish she would ask me what kind of clothes I want. I don't want to dress like her! I want to have my own style."
"Then ask her to take you along when she's choosing the fabrics, Andy!"
"That's a laugh! I hate this! She does this every time, treats me like I'm a child, what's so difficult about waiting in the other room?" Andromeda asked, pulling her head through the collar of a green dress.
"She is our mother, you know? What does it matter if she's in the room or not?"
"You're only saying that because you still look like a child!" Andy retorted.
"And you look like a grown-up?"
"I don't look like a flat board!"
"Shut up!"
"You shut up!"
They went on with their bickering for a while. Bellatrix wasn't paying attention. It was a very form-fitting dress. She glanced at her own reflection on the window discreetly.
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
Being back home was difficult.
Every morning she was afraid someone would hear her as she makes her way to the bathroom. The pain and the nausea were familiar by now. Every morning it started slowly, and every morning she waits, because she knows it would get worse.
She knew that she was not supposed to use magic out of school but she also knew there was nothing the Ministry could do to track her spells when she was in her parents' home. Aunt Walburga told her that the summer she came back from her first year at Hogwarts. Her aunt didn't believe in the prohibition. It was an unenlightened policy, she said, aimed at controlling students who did not came from Magic families, students who should never have been admitted to the school in the first place, as far as her aunt was concerned. Her niece would not be submitted to such a medieval restriction.
Bellatrix had had fun with that knowledge the previous summers. She played with the stuffed animals in her bedroom, making them levitate, and used magic to keep everything tidy when her mother commanded her to. She also practised some of the spells she found in the following year's books, as a way to get ahead before classes started. Now however she was using her wand to cast a sound muffling spell on the bathroom door every morning, so she wouldn't have to worry about anyone overhearing her when she was ill.
The nausea hit her particularly hard during the second week of July. One day, after being violently ill for several minutes, she went downstairs for a glass of water. It was so early she did not bother taking a shower or changing out of her pyjamas before going downstairs. She barely even washed her face prior to wandering into the kitchen.
Her heart nearly stopped when she realized her mother was already in the kitchen.
Druella cast a suspicious look at her eldest daughter.
"You need to do something about your hair," she said, before going back to her coffee.
Bellatrix was back in her room in less than half a minute. She had forgotten about her thirst entirely.
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
The dresses, as it turned out, had a purpose. Cygnus and Druella would host a midsummer masquerade on the last week of July, and the three sisters were expected to attend.
Bella used to love her parents' masquerades. When they were younger, Bella and her sisters used to sneak out of bed and hide at the top of the stairs so they could watch the guests, each in an exquisite Venetian mask and colourful robes, spinning and sliding across the room at the sound of the music. It was wondrous to behold.
They decorated the large parlour and her father enchanted a whole orchestra of instruments to play by themselves while the guests danced. Cygnus was very good with musical spells like that. The instruments floated over the platform at the end of the room, as if being held by invisible musicians, and they played the most beautiful melodies. Sometimes, Cygnus himself played a piece or two. He was an accomplished oboist himself. Other times he had his daughters perform in his place. Bellatrix played the cello and Andy the piano. But it was Cissy everyone admired the most. Cissy had a voice like a nightingale.
Everyone that was worth knowing was usually in attendance. Bella remembered a time almost a year ago when her father introduced her to the Minister of Magic himself at one of those parties. The old man had patted little Sirius on the back, bending the boy's knees a bit, and remarked he was a "Ministry official in the making," with a satisfied voice before Sirius kicked him in the shin and ran away. Andromeda has laughed out loud, right in the Minister's face, proud of her little cousin's rebellion. Druella had punished her harshly for that.
Later that night, Bellatrix couldn't hear the end of it from her sister.
"Did you notice how he didn't even think of asking us if we want to work for the Ministry?" Andromeda pointed out angrily, "Sirius is eight years old! He isn't even old enough to attend the bloody party, they just brought him down to meet the Minister, and the old idiot treated him far more seriously than he treated us!."
"It's not like you want to work for the Ministry," Bellatrix argued rationally.
"Well, I would like to have the option! Just because I'm a girl…"
"You know there are women working for the ministry! There have been female Ministers of Magic, for crying out loud!"
"I am not saying women aren't allowed to join the Ministry, I am saying women in this family aren't supposed to join the Ministry."
"Please, Andromeda, we're better than that, it's not like we need the money."
"How can you swallow everything they shove down our throats like that? They keep telling us that we are "better" than everyone else, that we are "meant for bigger things", that we are too good to have a career, but what does that amount to?
"It has nothing to do with us being girls, Andromeda. Well-born wizards never bother with jobs. Father doesn't work for the ministry either, does he? Does Uncle Orion?"
"Father and Uncle Orion were never told to suppress every personal aspiration and submit to the wishes of a wife. They were never shoved off and sent to a stranger's house to become a member of their family in spite of their own desires."
After that Bellatrix was quiet for a moment. Andromeda knew exactly how to get to her.
"I will ask you again," the older girl started slowly, "do you want to work for the Ministry?"
"That's not the point, Bella!"
"What's the point, then? Why do you have to make trouble every time, Andy?"
Andromeda took a deep breath and decided to ignore her sister's last question.
"The point is that what we want doesn't matter. We are not supposed to want anything. We are not supposed to make anything out of our lives."
They had not said anything after that, but Bella had a lot to think about. She suspected her sister might be right. Bella was the best student in her year. She was a prefect and she had played for the Slytherin Quidditch team since her second year at the school. She regularly outshone her classmates in intra-school competitions. Yet, in spite of all that, when she finished her seventh year, she was expected to marry Rodolphus Lestrange, have his children and keep house for him for as long as they both should live. It was unfair.
Deep in her heart, Bella knew she wanted to be more than that. More than a housewife. More than a mother. More than a woman. She wanted to be like Ignatia Wildsmith, the witch that had invented Floo powder, or Miranda Goshawk, the celebrated magic theoretician and author of the entire Charms syllabus at Hogwarts. She wanted to accomplish great things. Was that not why she had been sorted into Slytherin in the first place? Because she was ambitious? It seemed unfair of them to expect her to take a backseat to an unremarkable husband and be glad of it but that was exactly what was being asked of her. And Bella didn't see how she could get out of that trap.
She shook her head, trying to forget those old concerns. No good could come from dwelling on those thoughts for long. She looked around and realized Andromeda was nowhere to be found. Bella only hoped her sister wasn't up to any mischief.
Druella had gotten both her eldest daughters beautiful old-fashioned masks with long beaks extending downward in front of them. Plague doctor masks. The masks had complementary colours, and matched their dresses well. The girls looked very much alike, and they were nearly the same height which was why their mother often got them similar outfits. Andromeda hated that, and to be honest, Bella didn't care much for it either, but it upset Cissy to no end that she wasn't included in that. Cissy was wearing the ornate half-mask of a Colombina. The light blue of the plumes above the mask matched the young girl's eyes, but she didn't seem to care much for it anyway.
Bellatrix used to love the masquerade. She loved the richness of the outfits, the wealth of fabrics and accessories and colours, the music, the dances… She was standing next to her parents, close to the front entrance, waiting to greet the guests as they came inside. From that point, she could see the entire parlour.
Her aunt Walburga was standing by the fireplace, wearing a gorgeous golden dress with a wide skirt and an extraordinarily large necklace. Her husband joined her soon enough, wearing a beautiful Bauta and carrying two glasses of a sparkling beverage Bella could not identify. On the other side of the fireplace stood a couple of men Bella did not know. The tallest of the two was wearing a harlequin mask that was black on the right half of the face and gold on the left half. His hair was concealed by the rich adornments at the top of his mask: ten or twelve long triangles of tissue with tiny bells at the tip, matching the orange of the triangular details in his collar. His companion had a much less elaborate mask, plain, oval, and white all over, but he was wearing a tall cylindrical adorned with multi-coloured jewels that also covered the entirety of his robes.
Several steps to the left, Bella recognized Abraxas Malfoy with a hand on his son's shoulder. Abraxas was wearing a plague doctor mask, much like herself, and his son had chosen a blue Pantalone mask, with a much smaller beak and beautiful silver details. Lucius' unmistakable long blond hair had been tied in a ponytail, and he wasn't wearing a hat. The people standing across from Abraxas made a loud colourful group full of feathers, flowers, ruffles and glitter. Bella particularly liked the elaborate purple dress of the woman on the far left, and she was busy admiring the details of her mask when her father's voice awakened her from her musings.
"Bellatrix!"
She looked at him again and her heart sunk. Standing in front of her father was a tall man with broad shoulders wearing a tricorn black hat, a veil and a mantle doubling over the shoulders and decorated with frills and fringes. Every single element of his attire, from his mantle to his tight knee-length socks was black. Everything, apart from his plain white Bauta mask. It was a similar costume than that of her Uncle Orion's, but in that man, the Bauta looked frightening. Bellatrix couldn't see an inch of the man's skin, but she knew exactly who it was. That was Mr Lestrange.
"Aren't you going to welcome our guest, Bellatrix?"
She was frozen. The words had gotten stuck somewhere before they reached her mouth.
"I'm afraid Bellatrix didn't care much for Lestrange Manor when she visited us last winter," Mr Lestrange said, in an understanding and amused tone of voice. "Not that I blame her. The house is old and large, and it's been without a woman's touch for many years."
"Nonsense," Druella said, casting a disappointing look at her eldest daughter. "There's nothing wrong with the house, I am sure Bellatrix is looking forward to moving there when she and Rodolphus get married."
Her mother placed an arm around her as an excuse to pinch the girl under her cloak where neither of the men could see.
"Every girl is naturally frightened of their wedding," Druella said, opening a large smile, "I am sure Bellatrix will adapt in no time. Won't you, Bellatrix?"
Bella was saved the trouble of answering when a loud shriek cut through the ballroom. Every single head in the room turned to the source of the noise.
Lucius Malfoy was standing on a chair, screaming patting his body frantically as if there was something hiding under his clothes. After a couple of seconds, the reason became clear: there were, in fact, two small toads jumping from under his shirt. The first came out through a gap between two buttons, and the second jumped out of his collar, brushing against the boy's left ear on his way out.
When the toads had jumped away, Lucius calmed down and several people started laughing at him. The boy's mask had fallen down during the incident, and he'd stumbled against one of the fire whiskey bottles on the food table, causing it to double over and spilling fire whiskey all over the white table towel.
Abraxas pulled his son out of the chair and used his wand to clean up the mess at the table. He seemed upset at first, or at least impatient, but then he picked Lucius' mask from the floor and helped the boy to straighten up his outfit while Lucius himself looked around, looking for the author of the prank. Bellatrix had a good idea who that person was.
Unfortunately, so did her mother.
"This is Andromeda's doing, excuse me," Druella said, rushing away to look for her middle child.
Bellatrix took advantage of that opportunity to sneak away.
There was nothing like the silence in a bathroom where there was a party outside. Bella really needed that silence.
She locked the door and removed her mask holding the sink with her two hands as she leaned over and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to steady herself.
Bellatrix was not at all prepared for what she felt when she saw him standing just a few steps away from her. Her heart sunk, her entire body felt frozen and for a while, it was as though she couldn't even breathe. She wasn't accustomed to feeling like this. She wasn't accustomed to being so… afraid.
Safe behind the locked door of the bathroom, the fear subsided, and an entirely new and unfamiliar mix of emotions overpowered her. Bellatrix remembered everything she had tried so hard to forget over the past couple of months. She remembered the weight of his body over hers and the suffocating feeling of his breath on her face. She remembered the feeling of his hands on her. She remembered the embarrassment. The shame.
It was foolish not to anticipate that this might happen. Rodolphus and Bella were betrothed. The families would see much of each other over the next few months. It was quite likely that the senior Mr Lestrange would become a frequent guest in the near future. He was a powerful man. She should have known he would be at the party. She felt like an idiot.
Then she remembered Rodolphus was probably just outside, somewhere in the parlour, hiding behind a mask. The thought of it made her sick and frightened all over again.
Bellatrix took her time getting herself back together. She rubbed her arm where her mother had pinched her. It wasn't that it hurt. It didn't really hurt that bad. It's that her mother never thought to ask what was wrong. She didn't even notice Bella's reaction to Lestrange's presence. She didn't see her.
Bella slid her hand down and touched her stomach. Prior to this night Bella had been terrified of what it would be like if her mother realized there was something wrong with her. She had never considered how bad she would feel if she didn't.
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
The masquerade had lost all of its appeals after that. Had she been able to excuse herself, Bella would have retired back to her room, but doing so would invite more questions and she wasn't prepared to do that. Besides, she felt much safer staying right as she was, in a crowded parlour, surrounded by her family.
Bella didn't really feel like dancing, but she didn't have much of a choice when one of her relatives ushered her to join the young Malfoy for the next dance.
Malfoy was shorter than she was. He was about two years younger, very skinny, and he seemed as unwilling to take part in that dance as Bella.
"Why did your sister do that to me? I know it was her," Malfoy said when the choreography brought him close enough to Bellatrix that she could hear him as they were spinning around one another.
It would be useless to deny Andromeda's guilt, Bellatrix pondered.
"It was just a joke, Lucius."
"A joke? She humiliated me in front of everybody. Her entire family. My father!" he was indignant, "she knows I hate frogs! Why would she do that to me? I am going to be her husband!"
Bellatrix sighed. She was well aware Andromeda didn't take her betrothal to Malfoy in high regard, but she didn't have to tell him that
"It was childish of her," Bella said finally, "I apologize on her behalf. I am sure this will never happen again."
"Maybe I'll tell my father I don't want her anymore," the boy retorted angrily.
Bella could understand his anger. That didn't make it any less upsetting to listen to the boy as he spoke about her sister as if she were a jacket he didn't want to wear anymore. She was glad to realize the next few moves of that dance would make them switch partners, so she wouldn't have to speak to him anymore.
Unfortunately, however, her next partner was Rodolphus Lestrange.
His fingers brushed against her halfway through the first few steps they did together, and she recoiled.
"There's no touching in this dance," Bella said sharply, her entire body tensing up.
"You didn't even come and say hello to me," Rodolphus said, a large smile visible under the nose of his mask, "I will expect better treatment than that when we are married."
Bella didn't say anything. She could tell he was enjoying himself. She felt sick.
"I think my brother asked your baby sister on a dance earlier today," he said, "you should bring her along next time you come over."
"Stay away from Narcissa, Lestrange."
"Oh, aren't we on first name basis anymore?" he mocked her, brushing his fingers against hers again.
She felt as if the touch of his skin could burn.
"Don't touch me," she warned him, whispering so that nobody else could hear her.
"What do you mean?" He laughed.
"I don't want you to touch me ever again," Bella insisted. She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. She remembered only too well that asking Lestrange to stop had not worked the first time.
"You are going to be my wife," he laughed, "of course I am going to touch. I am going to do a lot more than that. Don't you remember?"
Bellatrix stopped. The other young couples went dancing around them. It wouldn't take long for that to become a scene.
Rodolphus stopped as well.
"What?" he asked, trying to interpret the look on her face, as they stood still in the middle of the dance floor "I hope you don't think you can get out of our wedding. You have no idea how much my father is looking forward to it."
Bellatrix turned her back and walked away, towards the balcony.
Rodolphus followed.
"If you even think about cancelling the wedding, I am going to tell everybody what happened," he said, "I am going to tell them you threw yourself at me. You got into my room when no one was watching and you waited for me on my bed."
"That's not what happened!"
"Isn't it?" Rodolphus laughed. "It's going to be my word against yours, and I am gonna make it look good. I'll tell them you knew what you were doing. You had done it before. You begged me to give it to you and you were yelling my name all the time. That part is true, isn't it?"
He grabbed her wrist before he continued to speak.
"Why else would you agree to come to my house unchaperoned unless you were planning on doing something like that? I'll tell everybody you enjoyed it. I'll tell them you put something in my drink. I'll tell them you were trying to get me to put a son in you so I couldn't back off from the wedding."
Bella wrenched her arm free of his grasp just as someone else came through the door from the parlour and called her name.
"Bellatrix? Is everything alright here?"
It was her Uncle Orion.
Bellatrix walked away from Lestrange and stood next to her uncle. She had to control herself not to run. The girl nodded, to let her uncle know she was okay, but she didn't trust herself to speak yet.
Orion looked at Rodolphus with suspicion.
"I was just wondering if my betrothed would grant me the next dance, Mr Black," Rodolphus lied.
Orion placed an arm around his niece's shoulders.
"I'm afraid I will have to claim that honour for myself, boy," he said firmly. "Go inside now. I believe your father was looking for you."
If he was displeased, Rodolphus hid it well.
Orion studied Bella's face for a moment after Lestrange had left.
"I hope I didn't do anything wrong. It didn't seem to me like you wanted to dance with him."
Bella shook her head now.
"Is everything okay, princess?"
Bella bit her lower lip.
"Yes, Uncle," she said softly.
"It is normal to be nervous about your wedding, you know," he said, guessing that that was the problem. "I was a pile of nerves just before my wedding, and I'm sure your aunt was almost as bad, although she's always been braver than me…"
Bella nodded
"Uncle," she started, "do I have to marry him?"
Orion studied his niece's face again.
"Would that be so terrible?" he asked.
Bella looked him in the eye for a moment. Yes, she thought, yes, it would.
"I suppose not," she said finally, hardly believing the words coming out of her mouth. She knew that was what she was supposed to say.
Her uncle smiled.
"Come now, child… It's much too soon to be thinking about any of that. The wedding won't be for another two years. I am sure you will be more accustomed to the idea by them."
She nodded again.
"Now, what do you say we have that dance?" Uncle Orion asked, offering her his arm and leading her to the parlour again.
Author's note: This story has been Beta-Read by davros fan and by TheOnlyCeeCeeJ. I would like to thank you both for your patience and attention to detail. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my responsibility.
I have several plans for the things that will happen in the next few chapters, but I am looking forward to getting some feedback with suggestions of which situations you would like to see develop as the story moves forward...
Next chapter will be up in a week.
Happy New Year o/
