Hello all! Thank you to those who reviewed. It's really a pleasure to see what folks think of the story, and very helpful as well. Special thanks to ArielApostolos and MilandaAnza for your thoughtful comments.

'Blob' asked about my favorite authors, fanfiction or otherwise. I am unfortunately not a big fan-fiction reader, but I will say that this story was very loosely inspired by "The Master and Margarita" by Bulgakov.

Another reader left a comment about the pendant Bellatrix wears acting like psychiatric drugs, and I have to admit I've never thought of it quite like that. It is, however a very interesting idea that I could try to incorporate.

I have the sense that people are getting impatient for progress in the Bellatrix/Hermione relationship, but I feel like there is a right moment for everything. To me, theirs is a very one-step-forward, two-steps-back dynamic.

So, on that disheartening note, here is another chapter for those of you who are following Bella's backstory. Otherwise, feel free to skip.


1973.

On Bellatrix's list of insufferable family obligations, graduations easily took first place. Appalling as a funeral or a wedding might be, both had their compensations, however meager. There was the free booze, of course (most important in Bella's estimation). There was the petty one-upmanship of the society ladies, carried out with such fanatic vitriol it could have been its own bloodsport. And there was always that one crier who sounded like a wounded bison and never failed to send her and Andy into fits of uncontrollable giggling.

But graduations were another beast altogether. Four hours of sitting in a simmering morass of other people's body odor, listening to Flitwick wheeze about the accomplishments of every one of these precious morons who'd warmed a seat for seven years… it was enough to make you want to take a stroll off the roof.

Arms crossed sulkily across her chest, Bellatrix began to rock her chair on its legs, and was rewarded with a warning smack from her mother.

"You know they already called Cissy ages ago," Bellatrix stage-whispered, drawing a round of glares from the people in front. "Remind me again why we can't we leave?"

"Because it's rude, Bellatrix," Druella whispered back in annoyance. "Now shush."

"But Muuummmm…." she whined like a child, belying her 22 years. "I'm. So. Bloody. Bored."

"I said shush! Unless you want me to put you next to the Malfoys for the reception?" Druella threatened. On her other side, Andromeda, as prim and annoyingly well-behaved as always, let out a soft snort at the exchange.

"Oh dear Merlin, please no!" Bellatrix moaned dramatically, clutching the front of her robes. "Anything but that!"

She said it just to annoy the neighbors in the aisles, not because she had plans of staying for the reception at all. But Druella seemed to guess her intentions, because as the ceremony concluded, she grabbed her eldest by the elbow and practically dragged her onto the green, where the house-elves had outdone themselves with a banquet fit for an army.

Under the beady eyes of Walburga, McGonagall, and her mother, Bellatrix morosely picked at the floating trays of hors d'oeuvres and tried to make small talk. But the day went from bad to worse, as days were wont to do. The weather was blistering, her dress robes were unbearably itchy, and Andromeda was having another awkwardly public spat with her wizard.

Like a novice, Longbottom tried to ply her with sweets. "I got you your favorite," he told her, holding a pumpkin pastry in his outstretched hand like a peace offering. "Maybe it will make you feel better."

Andromeda's answering glare let him know exactly what she thought of his efforts.

"No thanks," she bit out, eyeing the innocent confection with utmost disgust. "It smells revolting. I feel like I'm gonna throw up."

The poor boy shuffled his feet nervously, obviously trying to rally that infamous Gryffindor courage. "Andy… " he looked at her, and then decided to plunge right in. "Is something going on with you? You've been...erm, a little off for weeks."

Andromeda's voice was deceptively even as she spoke, but Bellatrix knew it was just the warning rumble before the explosion. "Off?"

Longbottom scratched his head, clearly oblivious to the fire he was so thoughtlessly stoking. "Well, you bit my head off the other day because I put an extra sugar in your tea. And you didn't want to go to the Muggle films last night. And…" he looked at her with the bewildered devotion of a puppy whose owner refused to play fetch, "... you love Muggle films."

"No I don't," Andromeda declared in thinly-veiled fury. "Actually, I hate them. I hate every stupid, stinking, useless, last one of them!"

"Since when? And why?"

He needn't have asked, because she launched her tirade without hearing a word he said. "Because you get used to things being a certain way, and then you have certain expectations - which, by the way are completely reasonable and normal to have! - and then BAM!" She brought her fist down into her open palm with a scowl. "They just knock everything out from under your feet and make you feel like you're the crazy, hysterical one for thinking that things are going in a particular direction, when they made you believe it in the first place! It's completely and totally unfair! And cruel!"

"Wait," Longbottom cut in, perplexed. "Are we still talking about films?"

"I don't know! Would you please just stop hounding me, Frank?" Andromeda cried, balling her fists so the knuckles went white. "I can't take anymore of this! I'm going to… to...somewhere that's not here," she finished rather lamely, stalking off into the crowd with a last lingering scowl at her eavesdropping sister. Her fiancée, meanwhile, gave Bellatrix a puzzled shrug and followed the irate witch at a careful distance.

It was a pity their relationship seemed to be going south, Bellatrix thought. At one point they had been friends, which was really the best possible situation for an arranged couple. But Andromeda was apparently too much of a fool to recognize a good thing when it was sitting right under her nose. No one would guess it by looking at her, but Andy had always had a longing for danger, adventure, and drama bordering on the reckless. Maybe it was because she'd always been such a stick in the mud herself, but poor, straight-laced, dependable Frank was just not exciting enough, it seemed.

"Look, there's your sister," came the welcome intrusion as Fawley sidled up behind her with a couple of butterbeers.

Not Fawley. Alice, Bellatrix reminded herself, taking the proffered bottle. The girl now insisted on being addressed by her first name, ever since Bellatrix had accidentally called her "Fawley" while in the throes of passion.

Taking the first cooling sip, Bellatrix watched her youngest sister descend the stairs in her formal alumna robes. Escorting her was none other than Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa's betrothed and general pompous pain-in-the-arse. "Oh, look. She's brought Wonder Boy along," Bellatrix sneered, watching the sunlight glint off his long pale mane with distaste. "Fantastic."

Beside her, Alice snorted. "Must be our lucky day. Excuse me while I faint in adoration."

A gaggle of screaming reporters waylaid the pair, eager, no doubt, to get a front-page photo of the year's most celebrated and attractive couple. Lucius preened for the cameras while Narcissa stood stiffly beside him, wearing a practiced smile that must have called upon every ounce of her upper-crust pureblood upbringing. To the observant eye, her posture was an odd mix of resignation, revulsion, and pride. But only her sisters knew how much she despised the wizard beside her, though Andromeda still clung to the hope that Cissy would one day overcome familial expectations and run away for the sake of love.

But Bellatrix knew better. Those two - Andromeda and Narcissa - were like fire and ice. The middle sister wanted her life to resemble some swashbuckling bodice-ripper, while the youngest aspired to a place among the Wizarding aristocracy, with all the servants, dinner parties, and exquisite gowns that entailed. Love - or the diligent imitation of it, in this case - was just a means for Narcissa to get what she really wanted: status, admiration, and envy.

Alice, Bellatrix was relieved to discover, shared her contempt for the self-absorbed git her sister was marrying. "I bet he's got the very best manicure at the party. Your parents must be thrilled," she snarked, sparing Bella a smile that made her weak with desire.

Realizing Narcissa had spotted her, and seemed intent on dragging Malfoy along to say hello, Bellatrix downed her drink in one gulp. "Well, I think that's my cue."

"Please, don't leave me here!" Alice begged, urgently grabbing her arm. "I'm not nearly drunk enough to deal with those two right now."

"Oh no, darling," Bellatrix purred with a devious smirk. "You're coming with me. You and I are going to get...reacquainted with that old boat house."

"What?" Alice gasped, looking scandalized. "No! The grounds are positively crawling with people. We'll get caught for sure."

"Tsk, tsk. Cowardice in the face of adversity, Fawley?," Bellatrix mocked, leaning inappropriately close to whisper in the girl's ear, which drew a very satisfying shudder. "What would Moody say?"

"Umm, he'd probably tell you to get your hands off my bum. We're in public."

And indeed, the hawk-eyed Head of Gryffindor was eyeing them suspiciously from across the green, while an oblivious Dumbledore happily munched on a scone beside her. Bellatrix sent the woman her cheekiest wink, and was glad to see McGonagall's face stiffen in shock. They'd have to feed her to the Inferi before she would admit it, but once upon a clumsy adolescence, the eldest Black had had a smidgen of a crush on her Transfiguration professor. But long had it been since she gave up the hope of unveiling the great mystery of whether the Scottish witch did or did not wear tartan knickers.

Lazily snaking her fingers under Fawley's coat, Bellatrix found the soft skin of her lower back and drew figure-eights until her victim's breath grew shallow. "What if I just start fucking you right here, then?" she murmured against the shell of her ear, feeling the stares of the crowd upon them and not caring a bit. "Right on that table with the punch? Wouldn't you like that? I'm sure they'd all enjoy the sounds you make as much as I do."

With a casual flick of her wrist, Bellatrix vanished the girl's bra from beneath her shirt, imagining rather than seeing her nipples immediately harden. Fawley bit her lip. "No? Well, come along then."

As they walked from the party, Bellatrix kept her wand discreetly aimed at her lover's back, continuing the ruse of a kidnapping - a game the younger witch particularly enjoyed.

The boathouse reeked of mildew and kelp, and they had to evict a couple of amorous fifth years to secure it, but all in all, it was a decent spot. They shared a joint in silence, watching the water lap rhythmically against the wooden husks of the row boats.

And finally, just as Fawley breathed a contented sigh and toed off her shoes to slip her feet in the lake, Bellatrix pounced. She dragged the girl up by the scruff of her robes and pushed her into the wall. Before Alice could even gasp in surprise, Bella's hands were under her shirt roughly palming both breasts.

Alice arched into the touch, even as her face grew mutinous. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked, and her voice came out half-moan, and half-reproach.

"Don't play coy with me," Bellatrix snarled, making quick work of her zipper and tugging her jeans to her knees. "You know exactly what I'm doing. Be good and I won't make it hard for you."

Her desperate fingers found the girl wet and ready, and Bellatrix stifled her groan against Fawley's neck. She smelled like smoke and summer flowers and sweat. It was intoxicating, and Bellatrix was drunk on her scent, her soft moans, the body bending so easily to her desire.

With a wave of her wand, a whip-like serpent emerged from the tip to wrap snugly around her lover's neck. She waited for the first pained gasp before spearing the girl with her fingers, held the spell for a second more, and finally, released Fawley to take in shuddering breaths.

"Bella…." she rasped, mindlessly pumping herself against the hand inside her all the while, "I think I hear voices."

"Good," Bellatrix purred, licking a wide swath across a straining shoulder before biting down. "Maybe I want people to know that you're mine."

Alice opened her mouth to retort, but the conjured serpent was suddenly back to choke the words away. Over the months of their fleeting encounters, Bellatrix had found that the girl always wanted it like this - merciless, fast, and impersonal. She didn't want to be kissed so much as devoured, nor fucked so much as tormented. And Bellatrix understood the role she was expected to play, and endeavored to please. Never before had she been so clearly confronted with her own desperate need for control, nor gazed so long into the deepest abyss of her soul. It was exhilarating to hold the power of life and death over the squirming witch before her, to test herself. Would she relent? Would she extinguish that treacherous fire that burned in her lover's eyes?

Once again, Bellatrix set the girl free, releasing the spell.

"Deny it as much as you like," she growled over Fawley's rapid panting. "But you know all those fools you run around with will never make you feel as good as I do. Will they?" She pinched the girl's clit hard for emphasis, drawing a pained moan.

"Will they?" Bellatrix repeated - softer, almost uncertain, and the broken momentum caused Fawley to look her in the eye for the first time. It was disconcertingly intimate, and she soon looked away.

"I - " Alice began, but was cut short as the door opened, and in that infinitesimal moment before the other shoe fell, Bellatrix cursed herself for forgetting the wards.

There in the doorway, as though plucked right from her nightmares, stood both of her sisters wearing identical looks of horror.

Andromeda was the first to snap out of it. "Get away from her!" she cried furiously, pointing her wand at the pair.

For a second Bellatrix wondered who was supposed to be getting away from whom - and then she realized how she must look, pressing the gasping, red-faced, defenseless Ravenclaw up against the wall at wand-point. Immediately, she stepped back.

Fawley, light-headed and having lost her support, sagged to the floor. "Oh, no," she moaned, flushing deep pink as she fumbled with her underclothes. Finally she stood, sent the intruders a painfully embarrassed look, and ran from the boathouse.

Watching this graceless escape, Bellatrix bit off an angry sigh and turned to her sisters. Andromeda still had her wand out, though it was no longer pointing straight at her. It seemed she had opted to punish Bellatrix with her glare instead.

The silence stretched long as they stood there, until Narcissa gave an uncomfortable little cough. "We were looking for you," she said in a tiny voice, gazing steadily at a spot over her shoulder. "We couldn't find you anywhere."

"That should have clued you in to the fact that I didn't want to be found, shouldn't it?" she growled, almost - but not quite - toying with the idea of Obliviating them.

"What the hell was that?" Andy burst out, gesturing at the corner they'd used as if a terrible monster had lived there.

"Why don't you mind your own fucking business?" Bellatrix sneered.

It was times like this when she really hated Andromeda and her whole holier-than-thou, perfect-princess, never-had-a-dirty-thought-in-her-life bullshit persona. "Or better yet, go ask Fawley."


The days that followed were intensely awkward. Fortunately, Bellatrix had more than enough work to justify keeping a cot at the office, and saw her flat-mates only in passing - just long enough to catch their accusing glares as they sat together at breakfast. Andromeda obviously had asked Fawley, and whatever the girl had told her, they were back to being the best of friends, united against Bellatrix once more.

But she didn't have time to wonder at Andy's perpetually red-rimmed eyes or the abrupt disappearance of Longbottom. The Department was in chaos a following a series of attacks against civilians by the forces of "You Know Who". The entire office was practically swimming in half-finished paperwork and you could hardly sneeze without someone calling an emergency meeting about it.

And Merlin, how she loathed meetings. Trainees were usually exempt from this ritualized torment, but the situation was dire enough that even the lowliest of underlings were being forced into the field.

"I want the werewolf thing," demanded Bellatrix, before Moody even had the case-files on the table. He ignored her - save for a snort which belied equal parts irritation and fatigue - kicking out his chair and sagging into it gratefully.

The 'werewolf thing' was the gruesome murder of a Knockturn Alley proprietor by a killer who clearly enjoyed the taste of human flesh. The others stared at her wearily, wondering who in their right mind would possibly volunteer for that; it was a case no one wanted to touch with a ten-foot broom.

No one except for Bellatrix, of course. She saw it as a chance to prove herself to the Department Heads, who, after two years of watching her soar far ahead of the other recruits, still considered her little more than a rather recalcitrant source of information on her family's dealings.

"No dice, kid," Moody rasped, casually shuffling through his papers as he decided their fates. "I gave it to Scrimgeour."

"Fine," she bit out, disappointed but not surprised to lose the case to a fully-certified Auror. She quickly moved on to plan B."What about that Giant sighting in Scotland?"

Moody pinned her with a look of suspicion."And how did you hear about that, hmm? It wasn't in the bulletin. Wasn't in the Prophet either."

As though from habit, Bellatrix goaded him with a shrug and an inscrutable little smirk, but kept her mouth firmly shut.

"Never mind," Moody sighed at last. He'd long ago figured out that writing her up for insubordination and bad attitude accomplished nothing. Surely somewhere in the bowels of the Ministry, collecting dust, was an entire filing cabinet dedicated to the complaints brought against Trainee-Auror Black. "I sent Longbottom up there yesterday."

"Longbottom?" she repeated in disbelief. "We're talking about Frank Longbottom, yes? The one who cried the first time he saw a Thestral?"

Moody let out one of his trademark laughs, the sound reminding her of the death-rattle of a stuck pig. "Thought it might do the boy good to face down a giant. Put some hair on his chest. But don't you worry, Black. I've got something for you right here." He took a file from his stack and slid it to her across the table.

Guardedly, Bellatrix opened the cover and scanned the incident report, her eyes growing wider with each line. Finally, she looked up at him, her face a mask of outrage.

"Muggles?" she choked out.

"That's right," Moody grinned. "Somebody's been playing some nasty pranks on them. Confounding them, dangling them in the air, setting gnomes after them, and the like."

To say Bellatrix was affronted was an understatement. No, she was enraged, murderous, livid - but not surprised. She could bloody well cure Dragon Pox, find the Fountain of Youth, and vanquish He Who Must Not Be Named single-handed, and the Ministry would still have her filing broom citations and fetching coffee.

"Can't you send it to Improper Use or the Obliviators or something?" she argued sensibly, trying her hardest to keep her twitching fingers off her wand. "It's probably just some little tosser with too much time on his hands."

"No case is too small for the Auror Department, Black," he said with a mocking lilt. "Now, get to it."

There was a protest on the tip of her tongue, but the look on his face told her that it was pointless. She snatched her file from the table and walked to the door.

"And I expect an actual report on my desk in the morning," Moody went on. "Not a beer coaster with 'come ask me yourself, you bastard' scribbled on it."

"We'll see," she ground out, letting the door slam closed behind her, startling the little flock of Ministry owls perched above in the rafters. Soaring down upon her, they flew across the hall where the Auros kept their desks and out to the Atrium, in search of another place to roost. Or perhaps, to freedom.

If only she were so lucky. But no - she had to stay and track down these pranksters, a task which proved less than challenging due to their carelessness. 'Untraceable' wands were a Knut a dozen in Knockturn Alley, but it was an amateur criminal indeed who dared to use one. Most of the wands on the black market were shoddily-mended Auror cast-offs, and were thus easier to track than the average.

And that was how Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange ended up sat across from her in the interrogation room. On the table between them were three battered mugs with coffee - what the Aurors fondly referred to as Troll Piss Roast, the Ministry's favorite brew. The wizards had turned their noses up at the first whiff, but after two years of obnoxiously long work days, Bellatrix wasn't so picky.

She downed it all in a couple of gulps, then fixed the pair with an unimpressed gaze.

Just as Rabastan was beginning to fidget in the uncomfortable silence, she said, "And here I was imagining you two moved back to France, settled down... grew the fuck up, maybe. Don't know what I was thinking."

"Well, that makes three of us, Bells," Rodolphus countered in that nasally, self-important whine she remembered from school. "Imagine our surprise to find that, after all these years, you've gone and joined the dark side." He looked almost rueful as he shook his head, his gaze trailing coldly over her second-hand work robes. "Would've never pegged you as the type to become another Ministry sheep."

"You used to be fun, you know," Rabastan added, his cherub-like features pinched in distaste. It seemed that the years had been kind to the Lestranges; their boyish good-looks were unmarred, and the expensive cut of their robes told Bellatrix that they had finally come into their trust funds.

Lucky bastards, she thought, knowing she probably looked like a Basilisk's half-eaten supper right now. Still, she refused to squirm under their scrutiny.

"My idea of fun does not involve going around hexing Muggles for sport," she said, grudgingly adding, "...well, not these days."

Rabastan's grin was almost nostalgic. "You only say that because you never got caught."

"No, I say it because we're not fifteen anymore," she huffed, annoyed by their casual attitude. "And stop smirking. You don't realize how serious this is."

"What's the big deal?" Rodolphus shrugged. "We didn't do them any harm, just scared them a bit. So, we'll get a slap on the wrist, make a strategic donation, and be on our merry way."

"That may have worked a few years ago, but not now. We're on the brink of war, and people want to see the Ministry cracking down hard on anything with even a whiff of Dark Magic," Bellatrix explained. "Things like this - " she pointed to one of the photos from their case-file, of a terrified Muggle being hoisted up by the ankle, " - are a publicity nightmare for the Department. They'll want your head on a spike."

"No, it's out of the question," Rabastan declared, his bottom lip sinking into a pout. "Lestranges do not do Azkaban."

"Your name's not going to work in your favor, either. You know these Ministry bastards always wanted to take us down a few pegs, make an example of us. This war is the perfect excuse to do it."

She'd spoken without thinking, and was surprised to realize she still classed herself with the old pureblood families, and not with the Ministry she was supposed to be representing. It was in only then that she finally admitted she'd never be part of the Ministry 'us', or even the Auror 'us', because they refused to accept her, and because she truly did believe herself far above them.

"Oh, Bellatrix…" Rodolphus crooned, his cologne a sucker-punch to her senses as he leaned in too close. "Just look at my brother, here. You know he has the blood of royalty in his veins. His constitution is delicate. Refined. You think he's cut out for prison? They'd eat him alive in there!"

Rabastan nodded somberly along as his brother turned the charm all the way up. "Have mercy! Have mercy, my dear, sweet Bellatrix."

His efforts were utterly wasted on her, of course, but the complete lack of self-consciousness in the plea was refreshing. She'd once had that kind of gleeful entitlement too... before the Ministry beat it out of her with enforced, thankless drudgery.

"You want me to let you off…" she asked, quirking an amused eyebrow. "Just like that?"

The truth was she didn't give a shit about their supposed 'crime' - found it, at worst, pathetically juvenile and an utter waste of her (and the Department's) time. But all of her warnings had been sincere; in the current climate they would assuredly go to prison. And was that really fair?

"For old times' sake." Rodolphus reached for her hand on the table, but she snatched it away. It seemed he'd forgotten that she'd never been one of his groupies at school. In fact, he'd been hers.

There was a considering gleam in her eye as she said, "You know I don't do favors for free."

A silent understanding passed between them, and Rodolphus nodded his unspoken assent. "You would have our parents' undying gratitude, I promise you. And a Lestrange's word is worth its weight in gold."


Even as a witch who'd mastered the Scourgify charm, there was only so long Bellatrix could go without having a bath. So, that same evening saw her make the reluctant return to her flat, which, after all of her anxious avoidance, turned out to be rather anticlimactic.

Surprisingly, Andromeda had the Quidditch World Cup on the wireless as she stood by the bookcase, sorting her collection into neat piles on the floor. She didn't even look up from her task as Bellatrix stepped through the flames.

Somehow, it had slipped her mind that the Finals were being held this week. It was probably because she'd been practically living at the office, but the realization still caught her off guard. A few years ago she would have been frantically scouring Diagon for last-minute tickets, but now she barely had enough energy to kick off her boots and flop on the couch.

It was not as gratifying as it might have been, though, for someone had piled the cushions with stacks upon stacks of parchment. She picked a sheet off the top.

"Our Centaur friends deserve justice too!" the page proclaimed in a particularly garish font. "Oppose the Magical Creatures Registration Act!" Below, someone had drawn a tragic little stick-figure centaur with an enormous frown on his face.

"Where's Fawley?" Bellatrix snapped in her sister's direction.

"Wouldn't you like to know," came the biting response as Andromeda turned to her, disapproval writ large on her face.

"I would, actually. She needs to get these damn fliers off my couch before I set them on fire."

"She's gone to stay with her parents," Andromeda told her, shoving a book into place with more force than was necessary. "I hope you're proud of yourself, Bellatrix."

Ah. Of course they couldn't just bloody well let it go. It seemed she had let down her guard too soon.

Suddenly, the tension in the room was stifling. Bellatrix gave an uncomfortable cough, and began to tidy the fliers just to keep her hands occupied. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, you couldn't exactly expect her to hang around here after what you did to her!" Andromeda cried, as though she couldn't quite believe her sister would dare to play dumb.

"Again, I ask" Bellatrix repeated stiffly, "What the hell are you talking about?"

The look on Andromeda's face was incredulous. "You - you hurt her! You made her do something horrible!"

Of all accusations, this one was like ice in her veins.

"Is that … is that what she told you?" And the other, unspoken question, the one she couldn't bear to ask: Is that really what you think of me?

"She didn't have to tell me. I saw it!" Andromeda yelled in her face, "I saw it with my own eyes!"

"You don't know what you saw," Bellatrix spat, her hurt morphing into anger in an instant.

"I couldn't believe it," the younger witch raved, restlessly pacing the floor as she always did when she was upset. "After everything that happened, after everything you've been through, after what that swine Pollux Carrow did to you…" her voice broke as she spoke, "...how could you turn around and do it to someone else?"

Bellatrix was very proud of the fact that she'd never given into the sometimes-overwhelming temptation to slap her middle sister silly. She'd never been closer to it than at that moment, however.

"I know you've always been angry. I know you've always had problems," the younger witch went on, "But I never imagined that you would go that far. Poor Alice broke down when she told me what happened."

"Well, I have news for you," Bellatrix sneered, hardly believing how calm her voice sounded. "Your friend is a filthy little liar. She told you that because she's embarrassed to have been caught with a woman." Spitefully, she added, "We all know how you are."

"How I am? What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're a closed-minded, judgemental little shit, Andy. You'd rather believe I'm a monster than admit that not everybody wants to live in your conventional little happily-ever-after dreamland."

"I know they don't!" Andromeda argued, but looked uneasy, as if she'd begun to doubt her own words. She seemed to ponder a moment before coming to some conclusion. "But I also happen to know that Alice wants a husband and a normal life. Why you had to go and drag her into your … behavior, I can't imagine."

"Oh she came willingly, my dear," Bellatrix purred, her eyes glinting with mischief. "And then she came again." Her smile grew wider as she approached her sister, who was looking more awkward by the moment. "And again."

The younger witch held up her hand. "Don't … don't say anymore."

"But I haven't even told you how much she likes getting spanked."

Andromeda blanched, and the sight nearly made Bellatrix laugh out loud.

"I, umm -" Andy cleared her throat, and then went on with forced nonchalance, "I started my rotation in Artefact Accidents today. You wouldn't believe this one patient we had. Apparently he'd swallowed a cursed watch and couldn't stop ticking. Just ticking really loudly, all day long. Drove the nurses completely nuts. And you? Good day at work, then?"

Bellatrix quirked her brow at this clumsy diversion, but decided to give the girl a break. After all, if this was anyone's fault, it was Fawley's.

"What do you think?" she grumbled, sinking into the little clearing she had made on the couch. "I had to chase down some morons who decided to curse a Muggle in broad daylight in the middle of London." There was really no need to tell her who the morons in question were. "And to add insult to injury, I lost the better assignment to your dud of a fiancée."

Andromeda seemed stricken at that and was silent for a long moment. "I...I suppose you have a right to know," she sighed at last. "Frank is not my fiancée anymore. I'm leaving him."

"No, you're not," Bellatrix said immediately, hardly acknowledging her words.

"But I am," the younger witch insisted. "The truth is...well, the truth is there's someone else."

"Oh, Circe's tits, please don't tell me it's that Muggle-loving prat from St Mungo's?" she tossed out - as a joke really - but the shifty look on her sister's face told her everything she needed to know.

Bellatrix shook her head, stunned. "Gods, you are such a bloody hypocrite. Preaching to me about my behavior while you're the one who's cheating on Longbottom. And not just cheating, mind you, but cheating with a Mudblood!"

Two splotches of furious red appeared on Andromeda's cheeks. "Don't you dare call him that! Ted is just wonderful…and exciting...and clever... and sweet…" Her eyes glazed over briefly as she thought of the boy, and the sight made Bella's stomach churn. "I'm not going to give him up for the sake of some awful loveless marriage," she went on with passion. "Look what that did to Mum! I'd rather die than end up like that!"

Bellatrix ran an exasperated hand through her hair, wondering if the girl realized how ridiculous she sounded. Andy had ended up a with a fiancée who was not only tolerable, but willing to bend over backwards to accommodate her - the arranged marriage equivalent of winning the lottery - but it wasn't enough for her.

And yet…and yet, she remebered herself at that age, saying similar words to her own mother. It had seemed like the end of the world back then, and in its own way, it had been. It was the end of childhood.

"But it's all been arranged for a decade. Mother spent a small fortune getting that contract," she pointed out with what she thought was extraordinary patience. "Don't you realize there's more at stake here than who's better at getting you off? How can you be so selfish?"

Andromeda twisted her hands in her lap, torn, it seemed, between keeping silent and speaking her piece. But the pained words seemed determined to come. "I...I'm not just thinking about myself."

Bellatrix was glad she was sitting down, because it felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of her. "You're pregnant?" she barely managed to choke out. "You were supposed to be the smart one Andy. How could you be so stupid?"

In that moment, Andromeda looked more lost and vulnerable than she could ever remember seeing her. "What would you have me do?" she asked in a strangled whisper, and the question seemed to bring all the feelings she had been holding back flooding up to the surface. She let out a tortured sob, then another at her sister's look of utter disgust.

"If you had two brain cells to rub together, you would get rid of it!" Bellatrix hissed.

Andromeda seemed horrified by the suggestion, and hugged herself protectively. "I'm not completely heartless!"

The unspoken 'unlike you' hung heavy between them, and Bellatrix bristled at the suggestion that she ought to have had more compassion for some barely-formed parasite than she did for herself.

"No, you're just a fucking idiot!" she growled at the younger girl. "You think he's going to marry you, and you'll live happily ever after and raise your little half-blood brat?"

Andromeda held her head a fraction higher, and said with a certainty she couldn't have felt, "Yes, yes I do."

"Then you're naive. What do you know about having a baby? You're barely out of nappies yourself!" She gave the girl a scathing once-over. "Mother coddled you for eighteen years, and now I've been coddling you! You don't cook, or clean, or even pay rent, for Merlin's sake!"

Defensive, Andromeda crossed her arms. "I don't need a lecture about being an adult from a witch with the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old."

"Fine, let me spell it out for you then," Bellatrix snapped, before continuing mercilessly, "You're going to get disowned. You won't have any money. You won't be able to work. What are you going to do when your Mudblood gets bored of you? Come crawling back here?"

She'd thrown all of this in her face to force the girl to see reason, but in only seemed to make Andromeda more defiant.

"That would never happen. He loves me," she declared, as if daring her sister to suggest otherwise. " And I love him."

"You think you love him - "

"I know I do." The glare she gave Bellatrix was acidic. "You wouldn't understand the feeling, I guess. You've never loved anyone in your miserable life."

Bellatrix opened her mouth to respond, but shut it abruptly. How could she argue, after all? She had never loved, and was grateful for that. Love was like a noose that you tied around your own neck, and handed the rope to somebody else. Would they set you free? Lead you around for the rest of your life like a dog? Or would they push you and watch you swing?

She looked at Andromeda's pale, frightened face and thought suddenly of Eileen Prince. The brute of a Muggle she married, her pitiful child playing games in the dirt, the filthy house she was trapped in, the bruises she'd been so careful to conceal….and worst of all, the palpable grief over losing her legacy, her heritage, and her magic. It was a fate she would never wish on anyone, let alone her sister.

"I'm not going to let you throw your life away, Andy."

Andromeda shook her head and stood, her fists clenching with determination. "You can't stop me."

She walked to her half-sorted books and began to magick them into a shoebox, but haphazardly, as if she had given up on what Bellatrix now realized was a campaign of organized packing.

The realization was a surprisingly painful one. "I'll tell Father!" Bellatrix called after her furiously, not really sure if she meant it or not, but knowing it was the worst threat she could make.

Andromeda had gone into her bedroom, and yelled back through the open door. "Tell him! I don't care!" When she returned, she was holding an owl-cage and a suitcase, seeming to Bellatrix like a soldier preparing to go into battle with only the flimsiest weapons. "The sooner they all know, the better. And if they don't like it, they can all go to hell!"

Dazed, Bellatrix watched her walk to the fireplace. She couldn't believe it was really happening. "Where - where do you think you're going?" she managed at last. "I haven't finished with you!"

"Yes, you have," Andromeda replied calmly, grabbing a handful of powder from the tin on the shelf. "Goodbye, Bella." She gave her one last, pained look, then stepped through the flames and was gone.

It had been a very long time since Bellatrix cried. But that night she walked around the flat, aimlessly picking up the various things she and Andy had acquired over the years, tears streaming down her face.

Merlin, how she hated that girl. Bellatrix had risked so much - sacrificed so much - to make a home for the two of them, and Andy had thrown it all away without a second thought. For a Mudblood. For love.

She couldn't understand it. It was the most pointless and perverse of betrayals.

Hours went by as she circled the sitting room, until finally her feet took her to Fawley's door. The room beyond had been emptied too, save for a cloak of hers Fawley had borrowed, now folded neatly on top of the bed. Alice must have known of her sister's intentions, and had run off like a coward rather than face Bellatrix on her own.

And so, she found herself completely alone once again.