Thanks for the follows, favorites and reviews guys!

So, this chapter ends up in a very dark place. Wasn't intending it like this, but it sort of wrote itself. Violence/Assault warning.


1969.

Sunlight filtered through the branches of the wych elms that lined the path to Hogsmeade, signalling the long-awaited arrival of summer. Trailing a few steps behind her sisters to levitate their trunks, Bellatrix breathed in the sweet smell of honeysuckle blooming along the path, and though, with just a trace of regret, that she would likely never walk this path again.

Seventh year had come and gone in a breeze, like a lazy afternoon daydream, and here she was, making the journey down to the Hogwarts Express for the very last time. In the distance, she could just catch a glimpse of the castle beyond the treeline, and the sight of its ancient turrets brought a small, wistful smile to her lips.

Up ahead, Andromeda was prattling on to an uninterested-looking Cissy: "I just can't wait to get my O.W.L. results! Although there's one question on the Arithmancy exam I think I may have missed -"

"Oh, do tell..." Bellatrix muttered snidely, but it didn't register with the younger girl, who had already began to elaborate.

"I think I might have mixed up the stars in Orion on my constellation map, because I never remember which one is Rigel and which one is Betelgeuse. And you know when the star chart is off, the numerology can get a bit weird. I still think I came out with the correct equation in the end, but I just don't know for sure - "

"You what's even more mystifying?" Bellatrix chirped, coming up and draping one arm across Andromeda's shoulders. "How you managed to turn into such an unbearable bloody swot."

Wriggling from under her sister's grasp, Andromeda shot her a dirty look. "Don't be jealous that I'm going to get more O.W.L's then you, Bella!" she goaded.

"Why would I be jealous? I don't need those scores to play for Puddlemere."

"Do you really think they'll take you, Bella?" Cissy turned to look at her, all puppy-dog eyes and childish faith.

"Of course! I'm the best Slytherin's had in decades!," she boasted. "I'd settle for the Harpies too, although - "

Narcissa's little face crinkled in distaste. "Aren't they… Welsh?"

"Sacrifices, little sis. I put in a season or two in some backwater where the talent's mediocre, impress the scouts, and bam! I'm off to the big leagues."

"Will you...will you still visit us? You'll probably be on tour all the time..." the blond witch sniffled, looking down at her shoes. Narcissa, barely thirteen, was the one taking Bella's leaving Hogwarts the hardest.

"Of course I'll visit, Cissy. Who's going to torment poor Andy over here if I'm gone?" Bellatrix said, messing the brunette's perfectly-combed locks and earning a shove for her troubles.

They had just under an hour to kill in the village before the train arrived, and they spent most of it stuffing their pockets with Honeydukes merchandise as per usual. Andy and Cissy had saved their allowance to buy her a graduation present - a top-of-the-line pair of spell-resistant dragonhide boots - and they surprised her with it over a round of Butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks.

They made her put them on immediately, and, looking at their self-satisfied, grinning little faces, Bellatrix felt incredibly fortunate for the first time in a very long while.

She raised her glass. "To the Black sisters!"

"The best sisters ever!" Cissy chorused. "And also the prettiest!"

"Here, here!" Andy chimed in. "May the future be bright, and may Bella have more N.E.W.T.s than she had boyfriends!"

"Aw, such a touching family moment," a slightly-accented voice intruded. "I am almost sorry to interrupt." It was Rodolphus, who, throughout their entire acquaintance, had never mastered the skill of figuring out when he wasn't wanted.

Bellatrix could only roll her eyes in exasperation. "Then why don't you bugger off, you nosy git!"

"Come on, Bells, we've got important plans to discuss!" he whinged, gesturing over to his brother in the corner. The Lestrange boys had been on the Slytherin team with her for years; they were the closest thing to friends that Bellatrix had ever had.

"What plans?" Andy demanded suspiciously. She was perpetually convinced that her elder sister was up to no good, and, to be fair, that was usually true.

Before Bellatrix could punch him under the table to keep him quiet, Rodolphus blurted: "The World Cup in Amsterdam next month, and how we're going to get there!"

Cissy turned upon her with shocked eyes. "Bella, you're not...going, are you?"

"Shhh...Mother can never find out, but yes, we are," she whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

"But we've never been out of the country before!"

"That's why it's going to be fun! I figured I'd do the whole grand tour of Europe while I'm at it. Maybe stop by the boys' place in Paris."

Andy shook her head in horrified disbelief. "Are you completely mental?"

Bellatrix smirked and downed the last of her Butterbeer in one gulp."Wait - don't tell me that the biggest goody-two-shoes of all time objects? I never would have guessed!"

Despite Bella's many pleas to drop the subject, Andromeda refused to let it go, and continued to harangue her as they walked down to the train station, and for the entire journey to London. Only when they spotted Mother, statuesque and prim as always, waiting for them on the platform at King's Cross, did she finally let up.

Having recently acquired her license, Bellatrix was permitted to Apparate herself home for the first time, though Mother didn't trust her to side-along with the girls.

Their house had never been a cheerful place, but the atmosphere felt more somber than usual when she stepped through the door. Was it the mournful glance their ancient house elf shot her, or the subtle tension in her mother's jaw that made dread bloom in Bella's chest? Her sisters, sensing that something was amiss, shot her twin looks of worry, which she answered with a small shrug.

Putting a reassuring hand on Narcissa's shoulder, she said: "I suppose we'd better go unpack. Get our trunks, would you Kreacher?"

The hunched elf seemed less thrilled than usual to have the girls home from school, and, looking carefully, Bellatrix noticed the fading traces of a wound on his knobby, grey head.

"Right away, Miss." He gave a deep bow and, with a simple snap of the fingers, disappeared along with their luggage and Andy's Spectacled Owl, Tisiphone.

Bellatrix ushered her sisters upstairs, locking and warding the door to their bedroom when they were all safely inside. The room was set up much like the Slytherin dorms, with three four-poster beds in a ring around a small sitting area. It hadn't been planned this way, of course; at first, this had been Bella's room, but Andy had started sleeping with her so often when they were kids that eventually they'd conjured another bed to accommodate her. Cissy soon followed.

Half an hour passed as Andromeda began her summer assignments, Narcissa meticulously unpacked her clothes and toiletries, and Bellatrix pored over the World Cup programme, trying to decide where to lay her bets. No one spoke, but the silence was heavy with tension and unarticulated fears.

The youngest sister, as usual, was the first to break. "Something's going on," she pronounced, a slight quiver in her voice.

Andromeda, sprawled on the floor by the fireplace, flipped a page and sighed. "We don't know that for sure. It's probably nothing, Cissy."

But the blond witch would not be reassured so easily. "It's never nothing. Did you see father?"

"No, the study was closed."

"He's probably passed out in a pool of vomit somewhere," Bellatrix tossed out nonchalantly.

"Yeah, and maybe he'll drown in it," Andromeda spat.

Without looking up from her calculations of Belgium's odds in the semi-finals, Bellatrix gave a humorless snort. "One can only hope."

Narcissa, seeming vaguely uncomfortable with this exchange, glanced at the clock. "It's almost time to go down for dinner. I suppose we'll know then."

Fifteen minutes later, they descended the stairs in their formal robes - even Bellatrix, who had been alternately cajoled and threatened by Cissy and Andy. The family convened for an end-of-term dinner every year, but this occasion was particularly special because she was the first to have graduated among her cousins. There better be cake, Bellatrix thought petulantly, glaring at the gaudy Slytherin streamers which had overtaken the entrance hall. Because I didn't drag my arse all the way down here for there not to be cake. And good cake, too: Every-flavor Cheesecake, or Fever Fudge Tart -

"Uncle Polly!" Narcissa squealed, interrupting her train of thought. She rushed down and into the open arms of one of her parents' oldest friends, a wizard who had been at school with her father and had known the girls since they were in nappies.

"That can't be my little flower, can it? When did you get so big?" Uncle Pollux teased. "Oh, and Andromeda too! I bet you have to beat the boys off with a broom, eh?" He gave a hearty chuckle as the girls blushed faintly, and Bellatrix tried hard not to roll her eyes.

"Ah, and how could I forget Bellatrix…"

Before he could pull her into a hug like the others, she thrust her outstretched hand toward him, and, though momentarily startled, he grasped it - oh sweet Merlin please don't kiss it, Bellatrix wailed inside her head - and shook it, though perhaps a bit too long. She fumbled some excuse to leave as her sisters eagerly awaited the gifts he had brought, and made her way to the parlor, where some other guests had already assembled.

"Aunt Walburga, Uncle Orion, nice to see you again," she greeted stiffly. In the corner she noticed Sirius and Regulus side by side on the sofa, dressed in matching robes and bowties, trying desperately to disappear into the woodwork.

"Ah, yes. Finished Hogwarts, have you?" Orion mumbled into his wine glass, not bothering to spare her a glance. The man could only summon enthusiasm for three things in life; fine cuisine, Thestral-breeding, and the Gringotts Exchange. "Excellent, excellent…"

"Thank you, sir," she ground out.

Walburga pursed her lips, a sure sign of an impending diatribe on blood purity. "You know in my day," she began as Bellatrix mutely prayed for patience, "Hogwarts still hung on to some shred of decency; yes, there were a handful of Mudbloods, but they were like elves - seen and not heard. But now! Sweet Circe, now the place is crawling with them! And what is this I hear about Head Boy this year being a Mudblood?"

"It's true, Aunt Walburga."

"What an absolute disgrace! How this can be tolerated in civilized society, I will never understand!"

Walburga could go on for hours about Mudbloods, blood traitors, half-breeds, werewolves, house elves, Centaurs, Goblins, and the Ministry without running out of steam or even pausing for breath, so Bellatrix stayed quiet except for a well-timed nod, not wanting to spur her on. Cissy, who was busy entertaining the boys with her collection of charmed sugar-mice, shot her a sympathetic glance. Fortunately, the tirade died down as they sat at the dinner table; their mother Druella, though she did not disagree with her sister-in-law's hardline views, considered it uncouth to discuss politics in polite company.

The rest of the evening proceeded in a ripple of trite commentary about the weather and idle small talk. Even Cygnus showed up in the end, and managed to toss out a few monosyllabic responses, sat slumped in his chair and high out of his mind, as everyone politely averted their gaze. Across from Bellatrix, Uncle Polly told some amusing stories about his school days, punctuating the punch-lines with an energetic slap on Father's shoulder. It couldn't have been over a moment too soon for Bellatrix who had, to her immense consternation, realized that there would be no cake after all.

After the guests had all disappeared in the green flames of the fireplace, Bellatrix had been about to follow her sisters upstairs, when Druella called her aside.

"Come into my study for a moment," she requested. Trying to eavesdrop, the girls slowed their pace on the stairs to glacial levels, but a stern look sent them scurrying.

Inside the study, barely big enough to fit a desk and chair, notebooks and ledgers were scattered haphazardly. "Mother? What's going on?" Bellatrix demanded.

Druella didn't look at her as she tidied some scrolls and picked up a book from the floor, but when she spoke her voice was strained. "I have some...news." She took a breath, as though trying to steady her nerves. "Your Father and I… are considering an offer of marriage on your behalf."

Moments passed as the silence grew strained, tensed under the weight, and snapped.

"WHAT?" she exploded. "From who?!"

Druella gave a bone-weary sigh as she vanished the remnant's of that afternoon's tea. "Pollux Carrow."

Bellatrix gasped. "Uncle Polly?" Her brain kept short-circuiting as she tried to process this information. Finally, it latched onto a single detail, and she blurted "But...he's ancient! He's your age!"

Her mother's eyes narrowed - clearly she was thinking of telling off her daughter for her poor manners - but instead, she said reasonably: "He's the heir of the Carrow family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, not to mention very successful in the radio business."

Shaking her head feverishly, Bellatrix refused to listen. "He used to play with me when I was a baby, mother! I would rather marry anybody, even a half-blood! For fuck's sake!"

The sound of a slap seemed unusually loud in the little study, and a small gasp from outside the door announced the presence of a particularly inept spy - probably Kreacher.

"Don't you ever say that, Bellatrix," Druella hissed, though it was unclear whether she meant the half-blood thing or the profanity.

She shot her mother a wounded look, rubbing at her sore cheek.

"You're not a little girl anymore, Bella. Have you even considered what you're going to do now that you're finished with school?"

"Quidditch tryouts are at the end of July, and I'm going to play for Puddlemere United."

Druella shook her head in exasperation. "Do you realize how incredibly unlikely that is? There's one spot, and what, a hundred applicants? And if you do qualify, your career will be over in a decade and you'll be unmarriageable. What will you do then, hmm?"

Truthfully, she hadn't thought too much about that, lost in the fantasy of having an international Quidditch career. She didn't really have the grades to work for the Ministry, nor the temperament. "I...well, maybe I'll be a coach…or, I could design brooms..." she stuttered.

"Listen to yourself, Bellatrix."

Her mother's piercing gaze unsettled her, and she looked away as a niggling feeling of doubt began to overtake her. "I...I mean...but, surely there must be somebody else…"

"It was incredibly difficult to make arrangements with the Malfoys and Longbottoms for your sisters, and there no one else eligible. We should be grateful - "

A sudden thought came to her, and she burst out excitedly: "What about Rodolphus! The Lestranges have been pureblood for ages!"

"I know he's your friend, darling, and believe me, I tried," Druella said, and she sounded genuinely regretful. "But they have a longstanding arrangement with some French family."

There goes my last hope then, she thought, trying to squelch her panic. "Well, then I just won't get married!"

"And how do you propose to support yourself, hmm? Because I am barely managing as it is, between the school expenses, the house, your father - " Druella trailed off, bitterness and exhaustion replacing her typical measured tones.

"What...what are you saying?" Bellatrix gasped.

"I am saying that there's no money."

This admission hung heavy in the air between them as Bellatrix tried to comprehend a problem she had never before considered in her life. True, they hadn't had new robes in a while or taken any trips, but she hadn't cared enough at the time to try to figure out why.

"Well, can't we just ask Uncle Orion?" she suggested at last.

"We already owe him too much. He and Walburga have refused. They do not consider this family …" she paused, searching for words, "...a viable line."

Viable line… did that mean that they were all girls, unable to pass on the Black name? And thus considered an unworthy investment?

She felt humiliated then, for herself, her sisters, all of them, and, not knowing what to do with her feelings, turned on the older witch angrily. "How could you let this happen, Mother?"

Druella crossed her arms over her chest. "I am doing my best, Bellatrix," she said wearily. And in that moment, she felt as though she was seeing her mother as she really was: a woman on the cusp of middle age, worn down with burdens she had never prepared for and never wanted. Overwhelmed by life, by bills, by responsibilities she had to shoulder by herself.

"This is all Cygnus' fault," Bellatrix decided. "If he wasn't such a useless piece of - "

"Please don't bring your father into this. He's not well."

There was pity in the older witch's eyes, for her husband and also for her child, and the sight of it made Bellatrix break down. She fell, sobbing, in an undignified pile on the floor.

"I c-can't d-co this…" she hiccoughed as her mother knelt beside her and ran a comforting hand through her dark locks.

"I know it's difficult, darling, but would you please at least meet with him? See if you can maybe find some common ground? Perhaps...you could find a way to tolerate it."

"Is that what you do?" Bellatrix cried. "Tolerate it?"

"That's what we all do, my dear. It's the nature of life."


Bellatrix had always been rather susceptible to guilt trips from those she cared for, so it was no surprise that the following afternoon found her seated at a window table in the Painted Dragon Teashop, across from a smiling Uncle Polly.

Don't think of him like that, Bella chastised herself. It's beyond gross!

"I am honored that you decided to grace me with your company today," he crooned, toying with the scone on his plate. "I must confess that I didn't believe you would come."

Trying to avoid his intense scrutiny, she poured tea into both cups and served herself a sandwich. Then, she unfolded her serviette and put in across her lap, took a few tentative bites, looked about for the proprietress, examined the fine china teapots on display, the purple dahlias artfully arranged in their vase, the delicate silver spoons on the table...and finally, inevitably, was snared by his gaze. Merlin, say something. Anything!

"Mother, uhh... convinced me," she stuttered, thinking that this had to be one of the most awkward moments of her life.

He laughed - seemed to find her gracelessness endearing instead of childish - and she noticed for the first time that his eyes crinkled at the corners when he was happy.

"Ah, so I know where to send my thank-you cards, then!"

Was she supposed to think he was handsome? Charming? Andromeda certainly did, but all of his favorable qualities merely left Bellatrix cold. "I...suppose," she murmured into her teacup.

"Wonderful woman, your mother!" he went on cheerfully, either oblivious to her discomfort or determined to ignore it. "A couple years behind us in school, if I recall."

Right. As though she needed to be reminded of the fact that he was more than twenty years her senior. "Yes, sir," she stressed, trying, none-too-subtly, to hint at her feelings.

"Oh, do let's drop the formalities, my dear. I'll say Bellatrix, you say Pollux, and we'll be friends in no time!"

He looked at her earnestly, expectantly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for them to be out on a date together... and, perhaps, he wasn't so bad, after all... but no! This was the wizard who had taught her to ride a broom when she was just girl. Had he been thinking about it, even then?

"Do you remember that doll you gave me for my tenth birthday?" she blurted, rather rudely. "The one with the wedding robes?"

"I -" he began, defensive, but she cut him off.

"You were planning this back then, weren't you?"

You sick bastard, was the unspoken subtext.

"Certainly not!" he protested. "You were a lovely child, of course, but it wasn't until you grew into the stunning witch I see before me now, that my...more tender passions were aroused."

She nearly choked at his choice of words - it couldn't possibly be a double entendre, could it? - but his expression was so guileless that she was forced to let it pass.

"It was last year, I believe," he explained. "I accompanied your mother to one of your Quidditch games, and could not help but be impressed by your flying. The elegance, the focus, the tenacity…" He shook his head in wonderment, and Bellatrix was flattered against her will. He certainly was not the first to fall in love after watching her performance on the pitch; even McGonagall had begrudgingly admitted that the Gryffindor team could have used someone of her considerable talents.

"Yes, I think the Wizarding Wireless Network could certainly benefit from your contributions," Pollux went on, thoughtful.

Well, that certainly caught her attention. "Would I… would I be able to work, then?" she asked hopefully, realising too late what the question implied. It seemed that some part of her had already become resigned to this marriage.

"But of course- it's the sixties, for heaven's sake!" he exclaimed. "Perhaps you could even take over the weekly Quidditch Review. My regular bloke is retiring soon."

"So... I can go around and interview the athletes? And go to matches?" she burst out, involuntarily excited.

"Well, yes. A necessary part of the job, I would imagine, though I haven't been on air myself in quite a while. Now, I produce the entertainment segments. You know, the Witching Hour, Goblin Bingo, a couple of travel shows, Murder of Crows - that's the new one, literally about killer birds - International Quidditch Review, True Stories of a Retired Hitwizard, Hodgepodge Kooking Korner, The Gnome Ate My Trousers...everything that's not news, basically…" he continued on about his job, a subject of which Bellatrix knew he was quite fond, as she gazed out at the storefront of Broomstix across the street.

There, in the window, was the latest Comet model, still in its prototype phase, available only to professionals and the press. Yes, in this hypothetical future of hers, she could be the first in line for the newest designs, get the best seats in the house for any game, meet all her favorite players...

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, after all, being married to Uncle Polly. True, he was incredibly old, but that also meant he wouldn't be around so very long. And perhaps they had nothing in common, but maybe then he'd be inclined to leave her to her own devices. And maybe he wouldn't even want to... do that... She was reasonably sure that old people weren't interested in sex, anyways…

And almost as though he had read her mind, he leaned towards her, the gesture made intimate by their already cramped quarters, and covered her hand with his.

"Bellatrix," he whispered, with dreadful urgency, "I can't bear the suspense another moment. Say you'll be my wife. Please! I beg of you!"

His clammy fingers encircled her wrist, preventing her from flinching away. From his breast pocket, he took out a black ringbox and placed it before her with the air of someone offering a bribe. Somehow, things had progressed much too fast, leaving her completely disoriented.

She swallowed, once. Twice. Looked at the box, at his hand, at his face, the face of a drowning man, then stood.

The motion was so swift that a plate full of biscuits fell and shattered, drawing a scandalized gasp from the witch behind the counter. But Bellatrix didn't care, overcome by the overwhelming need to escape.

"I... h-have to go," she stammered, grabbed her cloak, and practically ran to the door. Her hip made painful contact with one of the small tables which crowded the tearoom as she dashed past.

The back exit let out into an alley just off the main road, where empty crates were stacked high on all sides. Her painfully beating heart and sweating palms signaled panic, but she told herself sternly that she was overreacting. Why should she be terrified? Sure, it may have been rude to just run out like that, but he was hardly going to hex her, was he?

She looked about, and noticing the gilded sign of Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour in the distance, decided that would be her next stop. There was nothing like an enormous pumpkin sundae to take the edge off ; maybe she would even pop over to the house and get her sisters, take them around the shops. She let herself be calmed by the thought of a quiet afternoon in Diagon Alley with Andy and Cissy...

"Bellatrix! Wait!"

Oh no, he's followed me! she thought in panic, ducking behind some pallets to hide.

He stalked up and down the alleyway, his hard breathing drowning out the distant sounds of afternoon shoppers going about their business. After a minute or two, his footsteps faded and she sighed audibly.

"Thank Merlin!"

But there was a creak somewhere, close...too close…

She clasped her hand over her mouth, swallowing a gasp, and ran, blindly, at terrifying speed.

But it was too late.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

The spell hit her square in the back and she fell, face forward, into the unspeakable muck. Try as she might to move her limbs, it was impossible. She lay there, perfectly frozen.

"You never did learn any manners, my dear," Uncle Polly murmured darkly as he approached her prone form.

He stood over her for a moment, then pushed her head sideways with the tip of his boot, so that she had a perfect view of the back widow of Magical Menagerie. Inside, a scruffy-looking raven regarded her blankly from its cage.

"Nor any gratitude."

She looked on as the raven began to clean its feathers, trying to ignore the nauseating feeling of mud and sludge soaking into her hair.

"I'll have you know that I came here as a personal favor to you parents," Pollux informed her irritably. The tips of his boots paced restlessly in and out of her line of vision. "Only to be judged a "sick bastard" and "too old" by a stuck-up little brat."

He read my thoughts! Bellatrix realized in horror. He sat there the whole time reading my thoughts and telling me what I wanted to hear!

There was a name for that, something with an L … she tried hard to remember what it was called - anything to distract her mind from this situation - but she just couldn't grasp it. Where was Andromeda when you needed her?

He stopped right in front of her, shaking in fury, and for a moment, she was sure he was going to kick her in the face - she braced for it - but he didn't do it. Instead, he sat across her back and began to fumble with the fastenings of her robes, weighing down her ribcage so that it nearly impossible to breathe.

No no no no no no no no no, she silently prayed to any deity that may have been listening. She had managed to avoid this for years, never letting any of the gadflies which buzzed around her close enough to touch so much as the hem of her skirt. But - there was a part of her that had expected this, wasn't there? She had always had a bad feeling about Uncle Polly, always… and now, this...

"I have news for you girl," he breathed in her ear, spittle hitting the delicate skin there. "This marriage is taking place whether you like it or not."

When she felt the chill of the air on the bare skin of her thighs, her mind let go of her terror and finally took its leave. It was as though she was floating high above, looking down upon the scene. Watching him mount her petrified form as she lay in the mud.

"The dowry your parents will receive from mine will be enough to keep a roof over your sisters heads for a very long time," he rasped, fingers bruising the flesh of her hip.

The first time.

Was it really less painful than expected, or had she just gone numb? Would this have been even worse on her wedding night? There would surely have been... expectations. Other than just laying there.

The raven in the window had finished its ablutions and watched her once more. Was she deluding herself, or was there a hint of pity in its beady gaze?

"You should be happy to be able to contribute something …" he grunted as he finished "... useful."

He lay atop her for a moment, crushing her as he caught his breath, then fastened his robes, and stood. The whole thing hadn't lasted three minutes. Too quick to really comprehend, but long enough to break her down completely.

"Do try and stay out of trouble, Bellatrix," he chided lightly, as though nothing had transpired between them. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to our child."

Oh, gods, please please please just leave already, she screamed inside her head, but then what he said caught up with her.

Wait...child? What child?

"Oh, silly me, how could I forget…"

He pulled out his wand and cast a spell, its pale yellow tendrils reaching out to wrap around her middle, sinking into her flesh.

"You know what that is, I think."

She did know, as a matter of fact. Centuries of inbreeding between the old pureblood families had resulted in less than reliable fertility, so a spell had been developed to ensure that copulation would result in an heir.

"I'll owl our families your acceptance, then, shall I?" he tossed out, his nonchalant tone making her hate him more than anything else he had done. Before he walked away, he carefully pulled down her dress, hiding her impropriety and his crime.

It was over. She lay there for what seemed like hours, waiting for the petrificus totalus to wear off, acutely aware of his cum slowly oozing down her thigh, unable to wipe it away.

The rain came, flooding down upon her and fading away in an instant, as summer rain was wont to do. It drenched her robes, her hair, and dripped down the side of her face, across the bridge of her nose, like tears.

Twilight had already settled over London when she picked herself up from the muck and Apparated home. The house was dark, save for the flickering of a candle in an upstairs window. Her sisters had clearly waited up, eager for details about her meeting, but she couldn't face them now.

She didn't think she could face them ever again. How could she show them that the sister they admired for her courage and independence could be reduced so easily to a broodmare, an object, a nothing?

Opening the front door as quietly as she could, she crept across the hall, hoping against hope that her parents were away, and Kreacher preoccupied. Andy had always told her she'd be the first to escape this place, but that wasn't going to happen now. All of her hopes for the future had withered and died in the span of a moment, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake.

Moving of their own volition, her feet carried up the stairs, past the floor she shared with her sisters, until she reached the hatch that led to the roof. Outside, the rain had started up again; it soaked her as she climbed the slope to her favorite spot, the one where, on a clear day, you could catch a glimpse of the sea.

But the horizon was a just a blur in the gloom that came right before nightfall, when you couldn't quite see the stars, and the streetlights were just beginning to flicker to life.

Her stomach churned in knots, and she brought her hand to rest against it for just a moment, offering comfort.

"Sorry," she whispered to her unwilling passenger, as she rose and approached the ledge.

The sounds of frantic scrambling could be heard below and in a moment, the hatch burst open.

"Bella!" Narcissa yelled.

But it was too late. She was at the edge, and nothing, not even Circe herself, could stop her now.

She pitched forward, their horrified "NO"s ringing in her ears, and fell.