If there was one thing that could be said for the Malfoys - Bellatrix thought as she gazed over the Manor's lavish reception hall- the spoiled bastards knew how to throw one hell of a party.
It seemed like half the wizarding world had shown up to watch her kid sister get married, and many were taking full advantage of the expensive champagne the hosts had so thoughtfully provided. Bellatrix, of course, included.
Leaning leisurely against the second-floor banister, she took another long swig from the bottle and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Could you at least try to pretend you have some class?" an exasperated Narcissa muttered as she stood fussing with her dress in front of the mirror. "Don't you care what people say about you?"
There was a bounty of subtext in the question - the closest Narcissa would ever come to mentioning the rumors of her "questionable" liaisons. Bellatrix rolled her eyes and jumped up to sit on the railing, notably underdressed for the occasion in her weathered work robes.
"No," she snorted. "Especially since nobody has the nerve to say it to my face."
Instead of answering, Narcissa pursed her carefully made-up lips and patted her hair into place. Finally satisfied, she turned and gave her sister a dazzling smile. Even her contempt for her soon-to-be husband couldn't dampen Narcissa's excitement, it seemed.
"So, how do I look?"
Tilting her head, Bellatrix examined the witch, who looked lovely and regal in her pale wedding robes, like a solstice priestess of yore. And had she any decency to speak of, some facile complement would have rolled off her tongue … but what actually came out was, "Like a very expensive broodmare."
She watched as her sister's face crumpled, then peered down into her drink and wondered when precisely it had gone to her head.
"Oh, go to hell," came Narcissa's retort as she brushed past Bellatrix on her way to the stairs.
But once loosened, Bella's tongue had a habit of running wild. "I've already been there, and it sure beats making an intimate acquaintance with Malfoy's family jewels," she taunted, following her little sister unsteadily down the hall.
The blonde clenched her fists and turned around sharply. "Why do you have to put down everything I try to do?" she demanded, her porcelain features strained with the effort of holding back tears. "Sure, I may not be cut out for the Ministry or for some high-flying career, but making a good marriage will help the family. It's important to Mother, and it's important to me."
The poor girl was staring at Bellatrix as though begging for her approval - a remnant of her adolescent hero-worship, no doubt - but not a single platitude sprang to mind.
"Well, I suppose after Andromeda -" Bellatrix began carefully, only to be cut off by a hastily-whispered "Don't!" from the blonde.
"Not here." Narcissa looked around anxiously, as if afraid the family portraits might overhear them mention their disinherited sister. Andy's much-publicized fall from grace was almost enough to make the Malfoys withdraw their engagement offer, and Narcissa had been doing her best to compensate: throwing herself into charitable works with the rest of the trophy wives, posing prettily for the Prophet, treating Wonder Boy with an almost slavish devotion.
Bellatrix knew that she herself was just another cross Narcissa had to bear. The girl was trying to do her best with the tools at her disposal, Bellatrix could see that clearly.
"I just... want you to be happy," she told her at last. It was the only thing she could have said with any conviction.
"I will be," Narcissa assured her with a small smile. "- I mean, I am," she corrected hesitantly.
Wondering if the girl sounded convincing to her own ears, Bellatrix gave a jerky nod, unable to meet that earnest, hopeful gaze. "Well... good."
"Great," Narcissa beamed. "Now, I have to go chat up the in-laws. Please try to sober up before you have to walk me down the aisle, ok? If I trip in this dress I don't think I'll be able to get up again," she joked, though her tone held an unmistakable warning.
"Merlin knows I'd be doing you a favor…" Bellatrix mumbled when her sister was nearly out of earshot. But it was no use. She could no more prevent Narcissa's marriage than she could stop the rising of the tide - a tide that had swept away everyone she'd ever cared for, leaving her solitary and stranded on the shore. Bellatrix sighed, overwhelmed by a sense of futility.
A voice from behind her interrupted these thoughts. "So this is how the other half lives, eh?" She could recognize that smarmy drawl anywhere.
"What are you doing here, Collins?" Bellatrix snapped.
"I'm on assignment," he told her, and at the prompting of her raised eyebrow, went on, "Security detail for the party. Malfoy Sr's old pals with the boss, so naturally half the Department is here."
"Figures," Bellatrix muttered under her breath. "They pulled you all out of Diagon Alley?"
Collins nodded, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "Apparently the gentry don't feel sufficiently safe, what with the riffraff running amok. But hey," he shrugged, "You don't see me complaining. I'll take babysitting drunk socialites over getting trampled by a centaur any day of the week."
Bellatrix winced, unwanted flashbacks of the past few days flickering past her eyes. She doubted if she would ever unsee the things she had seen: the horrible injuries, the wreckage in Knockturn Alley, the Aurors firing indiscriminately into the crowd, the crying faces of onlookers.
Martial law was in effect over London, following a week of civil unrest the likes of which the Wizarding World hadn't seen since the Goblin Rebellions. The werewolves and centaurs had come out en masse to protest the new enclosure law (which would confine both groups to designated "ancestral lands" away from wizarding society), the Death Eaters were up to their usual mayhem, and ordinary citizens had taken to looting the shops under the cover of chaos.
"I ought to congratulate you," Collins said, and it was hard to tell whether he was mocking her or not. "The Mintumble arrest is all anybody can talk about. I mean, the woman sends three Hit Wizards to St Mungos, only to be taken in by a trainee Auror the very next day. Hats off to you, Black. Really." He leant against the banister right beside her, and she could feel his gaze creep slowly across her features in the candlelight.
In the early days of her training, Collins had used his position to torment her at every opportunity. But the sport had lost its appeal over time and he eventually settled for a sort of weary avoidance. Now that her star had risen, he was clearly trying to work his way onto her good side.
Bellatrix smirked. "I bet Moody is just devastated. Thought he could fail me with an impossible assignment, the bastard. Too bad for him."
Graduating Aurors were assigned one last big case, a sort of trial-by-fire. Get the arrest and you get your badge. Fail, and you're finished - no second chances, no re-do's. Longbottom got a vandalism case, and Fawley had to track down a missing broom-smuggler. Bellatrix, meanwhile, was asked to bring in the Ministry's pet psychopath gone rogue. Alive, no less.
"People are saying she burnt down half the Leaky Cauldron trying to escape," Collins went on, sounding more than a little impressed. "Turned a dozen civilians into rats. That true?"
"It was the One-Eyed Harpy, actually," Bellatrix smugly corrected, glad to finally be in possession of a brag-worthy battle story, however absurdly embellished it had become through the grapevine. "The owner was harboring her - they're old school mates apparently. As for the rat thing, it was only a few kids. Last I heard, they're still laid up in Spell-Damage."
Collins shook his head in wonderment. "But how the hell did you do it?"
An uneasy smile found its way onto her face, and she shrugged. "It was nothing," she said, hoping it sounded like an attempt at humbleness, rather than what it was: the truth.
The fact was that, for perhaps the first time in her life, Bellatrix had actually gotten lucky. It was her never-ending search for the perfect pub that ultimately led her to stumble upon her target one night.
Seen even through the nebula of smoke in a crowded bar, Judith Mintumble's dark silhouette was unmistakable. She was hunched over the counter in the midst of a companionable exchange with the barmaid, and the two witches chuckled together just as Bellatrix approached. But before the Auror could even draw her wand or announce her presence, Judith spoke.
"Well, would you look at this," she told the proprietress, her back still turned."There's rioting in the streets, and yet they have their best and brightest tracking down little old me."
The one-eyed witch behind the counter turned a mocking face to the Bellatrix. "Glad to see the Ministry's got its priorities straight," she rasped, giving the glass in her hand an emphatic polish with a filthy rag, the motion somehow loaded with silent contempt.
"As always," the Unspeakable laughed. "Why don't you have a seat, Miss Black," she directed graciously.
Bellatrix coughed, uncomfortable, trying to rescue her misplaced bearings. "Judith Mintumble," she began, palming her for wand reassurance, though she would never admit to being afraid of this woman, "You're under arrest -"
"Yes, yes, we'll come to that in a moment," Judith cut in with an airy wave of a hand. "But first, why don't you join an old woman for her last drink as a free witch?"
Before she could even blink in surprise, the barmaid was sliding an amber-filled glass across the counter toward her. Bellatrix caught it on reflex.
Judith, meanwhile, had turned her surgically incisive gaze upon the younger witch, eyes alight with an unholy amusement. "Let's have a toast," she offered, raising her own glass, "...to your promising career."
"And to yours," Bellatrix said, downing her drink in one gulp.
"Ah. Touché." The smile which split Judith's face was bittersweet. "Tell me," she went on casually, "Have you ever read about the Black Plague? Not - incidentally - named after your ancestors, although that would be quite fitting."
Tapping her wand anxiously against her palm, Bellatrix wondered what the woman was playing at. "Killed a lot of Muggles, didn't it?" she tossed out, and it was hard to say whether her tone was neutral, disinterested, or vaguely approving.
"You may scoff..." Judith gave an admonishing wave of a gnarled finger, "But therein lies the rub, you see. Fascinating little tidbit - quite amusing, really - but the transmission vector for this fearsome affliction is said to be the inconsequential little rat. So humble, so far beneath our notice… at most the subject of an exaggerated revulsion. Nobody cares when the vermin begin to die, do they? Nobody ever thinks, 'I could be next'. And by the time you realize, the swarm has overtaken you and it's too late."
Feeling like the butt of a particularly unfunny joke, Bellatrix scowled. "What are you on about?"
Instead of answering, Judith took out her wand and, before Bellatrix could even react, shot a wordless spell across the pub at a group of rowdy teenagers. One by one, they shrunk and morphed into black rats, scurrying beneath the tables amidst the startled yelps of the other patrons.
Just as suddenly, the roof gave a pained groan and the walls caught fire. There was a chorus of screaming as people shoved each other in their haste to be first though the door. Only Judith remained, calmly observing Bellatrix from across the bar.
"I think you've failed to notice, Miss Black," she declared, a humorless smile splitting her mask-like face. "The rats are already here."
That had been days ago, and yet Bellatrix could hardly close her eyes without hearing the echo of those sinister words in her mind. What could they possibly have meant? She hadn't the faintest idea.
"You must have had help," Collins cut in, interrupting the memory. "A tip-off, at least. How were you able to find her otherwise when no one else could? Come on," he nudged her conspiratorially, "You can tell me."
Bellatrix narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "If you want details, go read my report," she said."I don't know what your angle is, Collins, but I suggest you watch yourself."
And just like that, the facade fell away and the hatred on his face was as piercing as it had ever been. "You just love making threats, don't you?" he asked softly, menacingly. "Well, someday somebody's gonna call you on it."
"Oh, is that right?" she dismissed with a snort, sighting internally at having lost her hiding-place to this moron. Now she would have to venture downstairs. "Enjoy the party," she bid insincerely, turning on her heel and leaving Collins to glare after her.
It was hard not to notice the stares she was getting tonight - far more than usual, and Bellatrix was hardly one to disappear in a crowd as it was. The attention had been relentless ever since the Prophet published a piece about the arrest, and her attempts to maneuver quietly through the herd were doomed from the start. Not five seconds after she'd stepped on the floor, Bellatrix found herself being dragged off to face a small circle of wizards gathered by the fireplace.
"Ah, here she is now!" Orion Black cried, his typically dour features flushed from excitement and drink. "Avery, Selwyn, meet my lovely niece," he told his companions. "Bella here is an up-and-coming Auror, best in her class apparently."
"Miss Black," Selwyn nodded politely, his manner cool and considering. "We've been reading all about your exploits, of course. Very impressive," he praised, his gaze lingering on her bandaged wand-arm, still healing from Judith's Fiendfyre. "You must be so proud, Orion."
"Naturally, naturally," Orion murmured, as Bellatrix forced herself to hold back a scoff. The man had never paid her a moment's notice, never saw her as more than a broken ornament somebody hadn't the heart to toss out. Only now, Andromeda seemed to have replaced her as the family's biggest embarrassment.
Orion went on: "A Black always excels in whatever he..." pausing, he gave Bellatrix a pointed look, "...or in this case she, sets her mind to. And you, my girl, are destined for great things."
Five years ago, you thought I was destined for the looney bin, she thought, but didn't say. Suddenly, two figures appeared at her elbow, saving her the trouble of coming up with another response.
"You know the Lestranges, of course," somebody introduced, and before she knew it, Bellatrix found herself in the midst of a lingering embrace.
"My dearest Bellatrix, I don't know how to thank you. We are forever in your debt," Madame Lestrange gushed, looking as lovely as Bellatrix remembered in her glittering formal robes.
Catching herself staring perhaps a moment too long, Bellatrix gave a slight cough. "It was nothing."
"Nonsense!" Lestrange Sr boomed, his enthusiastic handshake nearly wrenching her arm from its socket. "Sometimes, you know, I worry about the younger generation and their fondness for…" he gestured vaguely, searching for a polite euphemism, "...for the common culture. But I'm glad there are those like yourself who still understand the importance of looking out for our own."
Bellatrix nodded, thinking of how alienated she'd always felt from her peers and their inexplicable fascination with all things Muggle. "I agree, sir."
"Especially with the climate at the Ministry right now - " a small, bespectacled wizard cut it.
"Avery!" Selwyn snapped, scanning the crowd worriedly as though afraid to be overheard.
But the little wizard was not deterred. Giving her a meaningful look, he went on: "Oh, I'm sure Miss Black knows exactly what I mean."
"I do," she confirmed, relieved to finally hear someone acknowledge her feelings. The way the Ministry tried to force its repugnant ideology of "inclusion" down everyone's throats, the way they all assumed she'd bought her position, the scrutiny, the suspicion … all of it had fed a festering resentment which Bellatrix had hardly dared to admit to herself.
"To think it's come to the point where we can't throw a wedding without the Ministry sending its guard dogs to breathe down our necks," Lestrange lamented, eyeing the Aurors conspicuously stationed at the perimeter of the room.
"It's shameful," Orion agreed. "Instead of dealing with this London debacle, they're hounding honest citizens just going about their business.
Avery, who still hadn't taken his eyes off Bellatrix, said: "At least we have a few of our own in place."
Bellatrix frowned, breaking that questioning gaze and feeling as though she was missing something important. Were the Aurors here to protect the guests from the rioters, or to intimidate them?
The only thing Bellatrix knew was that she really hated politics. Before she could even begin to wrap her head around the tortuous motivations and interests at play, they would morph into something still more grotesquely convoluted. It left her bewildered - and maybe that was why the Department could never get much use out of her as a spy.
The hands of the ornate grandfather clock in the corner moved so slowly she could have sworn they'd been cursed. Strangers came up to shake her hand and offer congratulations, and buoyed by the endless stream of champagne the house elves so helpfully provided, Bellatrix even managed an occasional nod and grunt in response.
Dinner came and went, and a small eternity later, Lucius Malfoy stood from the table and cleared his throat.
"Dear friends," he began, his magically-enhanced voice booming through the hall. "Narcissa and I are so happy that you could join us on this special day." He smiled graciously at the assembled, reminding Bellatrix of a circus showman rousing the crowd for a grand finale.
"It's been an honor, a pleasure….and frankly, a bit of an ordeal," he admitted with a self-deprecating shrug, drawing a round of chuckles. "I, for one, will be glad if I never see another linen swatch for as long as a I live."
More laughter. The prat knew how to work a crowd, Bellatrix could give him that. Narcissa sincerely believed he could be Minister one day, and perhaps she wasn't far off. He was all spectacle and no substance - exactly what the public loved.
"On that note," he went on, turning towards where Bellatrix sat with her family, "I would like to thank the eminently capable Druella Black, without whom all this would not have been possible."
Druella beamed proudly, as Narcissa turned to her sister and gave her a look, as though to say, "See? He's not so bad."
"I would also like to thank my wife's sister and dearest friend, Bellatrix," Malfoy said, clapping her on the back and catching her totally by surprise."Who continues to serve our country bravely in these dangerous times."
A round of applause and 'hear, hear's broke out, not least among the Aurors in the room, and Bellatrix tried to adjust her grimace into something carefully neutral. What the hell was this? She felt like some prize everybody was trying to get a piece of, just as she had in her Quidditch days. Except that it wasn't a good feeling anymore.
"Hold on, hold on," Malfoy shushed the crowd as a groomsman came up and whispered in his ear. "Well, well, well," he smiled conspiratorially, "It seems like romance truly is in the air tonight. It's just been brought to my attention that Frank Longbottom has asked Alice Fawley for her hand in marriage..."
He paused for effect, and in that pregnant silence Bellatrix choked loudly on her wine.
"...And, ladies and gentlemen, I'm happy to report that she's accepted!"
Amidst the oohing and ahhing, she could clearly hear Augusta Longbottom bellow, "Show them the ring!"
Grinning sheepishly, Alice held up her hand, where an oversize diamond gripped her finger like a tiny vise. Bellatrix couldn't take her eyes off it, even as its new owner deliberately avoided her gaze.
"What wonderful news," Malfoy beamed, raising a toast to the couple. But instead of taking his seat, he turned towards her expectantly. "And now, I cede the floor to my sister-in-law, Bellatrix."
For a long moment, her mind was completely blank as she tried to figure out what the hell he was talking about. Then, Narcissa elbowed her painfully under the table.
"The speech," she mouthed accusingly behind her glass.
Fuck. The speech. She'd been meaning to get around to writing that.
But it was too late. Malfoy was subtly dragging her up by the elbow and the hostile, expectant eyes of the crowd were upon her. It was like something out of her childhood nightmares.
"Ummm," she cleared her throat uncomfortably, her gaze unexpectedly meeting Fawley's. The girl looked almost... nervous, and for some reason that infuriated Bellatrix. "Well, congratulations are in order!" she said. Then, in an undertone: "One presumes."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother raise a mortified hand to her forehead.
"What can I say about Narcissa and Lucius? You'd never meet two people who hated each other so much as kids. I mean, hated."
Aside from a few uncomfortable chuckles, the room was silent. Bellatrix went on, undeterred. "How can anyone forget the year he gave her a box of spiders for Christmas? Or the time he pushed her down the basement stairs and locked her inside? The poor girl is still scared of the dark to this very day!"
"Oh my gods, she's drunk, isn't she?" Bellatrix heard Druella's horrified whisper, and her sister's answering, "But she promised she wouldn't!"
Now that they mentioned it, Bellatrix could feel herself sway ever-so-slightly in her boots. "Mother thinks I'm drunk," she announced to the crowd, all wide-eyed innocence. "But actually I'm just filled with happiness for our newlyweds over here. I don't think I was the only one who was uhh….surprised to hear that they were actually going through with it. It's funny how age and experience can make you reevaluate your priorities."
Unfortunately, the crowd didn't seem to think it was all that funny. The sounds of fidgeting and clinking china seemed to echo through the room as Bellatrix fixed her gaze on her final target. "Isn't that right, Alice?"
The girl visibly blanched.
Longbottom glanced between the two in utter confusion, while his mother, always too perceptive for comfort, looked as though she would leap out of her seat and strangle Bellatrix to prevent her saying any more.
"So, I hope you will all join me in a toast," Bellatrix raised her glass with a sneer, "To the Malfoys, the future Longbottoms, and most of all…" her eyes trailed over the anxious faces of the crowd and finally settled on her sister, who seemed on the verge of tears. "Most of all, to true love. May it overcome all of the obstacles in its path."
You could almost taste the relief in the stilted applause which followed. Narcissa looked as though she'd been slapped, and Druella began to gesture frantically to the house elves to bring out another round of cocktails. Using the commotion for cover, Bellatrix slipped out through the French doors and out to the garden beyond.
She was halfway to the apparition point when a distant cry stopped her.
"Bella, wait!" Alice panted as she caught up, her dress hitched to her knees and her shoes and stockings covered in mud. "Please... just wait."
Bellatrix turned sharply. "You know what I don't get?" she demanded, the wand in her fingers shooting sparks at the ground. "You see me every bloody day at the office but you wait until now to spring this bombshell on me? What happened to being 'real friends'?"
She sounded silly to herself now, saying those words aloud. They'd agreed to a platonic sort of truce after the debacle with Andromeda last year, for the sake of a harmonious working relationship if nothing else. It was also Bellatrix's only way of keeping tabs on her younger sister.
Fawley wasn't really so bad, especially once you compared her to the rest. They had a standing date at the Cauldron every Friday, the two of them... and Longbottom. And all that time, Bellatrix had never suspected a thing.
But she could hardly complain, could she? Her and Fawley were long finished. Yet for some reason, it still felt like a punch to the gut.
"I wanted to tell you, I did!" Alice cried, a sharp edge of desperation creeping into her voice. "But I just didn't know I was going through with it until tonight."
"I don't understand you," Bellatrix shook her head coldly. "All your talk about freedom and independence… but you throw it all away the first chance you get. Narcissa is one thing, but you are the last person I expected to give in so easy."
"Give in?" Alice repeated, puzzled.
"Don't expect me to believe you're in love with that idiot," Bellatrix snapped, taking a menacing, unsteady step forward. "I'm not stupid."
"Bella, I …." Alice swallowed harshly, putting a hand up on instinct. "I think you've had enough."
The heat of Fawley's hand on the front of her robes seared her. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she grabbed the girl by the waist and pulled her close.
"Have you?" came out as a harsh breath.
"I … I don't …" Alice stuttered, leaning into the touch despite herself. "Oh, gods…"
"Tell me you don't want this," Bellatrix whispered into her hair, "And I'll walk away."
Alice sucked in a shuddering breath. A familiar silence stretched between them, just long enough for Bellatrix to snap out of whatever momentary daze she'd fallen into.
But just as she began to pull back, Alice grabbed her arm. "Don't go…" she pleaded softly, and in her wide, tearful gaze Bellatrix saw the blurred reflection of fireworks from the celebration.
The Manor was like an island in a sea of darkness, a beacon shining amidst the shadowed grounds and the forest beyond. The sight of it left her feeling cold...and overwhelmingly, painfully alone.
Brushing off the girl's attempts to hold her, Bellatrix shook her head. "Go back to party," she said, the dismissal masking a pain she couldn't articulate. Fawley's place was up there with the crowd, with Longbottom, with the rest of the mindless revelers.
And Bellatrix, well - what could she do but turn, and walk away, and disappear into the night?
For once, Monday couldn't come soon enough. Tomorrow she would no longer be Moody's designated doormat, no longer the one they pawned off unfinished paperwork to, no longer the favorite subject of malicious gossip. The day she'd been awaiting for three long years had finally arrived: Initiation Day.
"Think she'll get First Honors?" Bellatrix, who was half-heartedly trying to tidy her cubicle, heard someone whisper.
"Wouldn't surprise me one bit. Bet they recommend her to the Hit Wizards."
Ha! Bellatrix though, I'd love to see Moody's face when that happens! She couldn't help the smug grin which found its way onto her face. The wizard had taunted her with the promise of a personal recommendation for years, but had never intended on giving it to her - a fact Bellatrix realized only after having pushed herself to the breaking point trying to meet his impossible standards.
A familiar voice intruded on these thoughts. "Bella…"
"I told you not to call me that," she snapped, not needing to look up to know Alice was standing there looking like a kicked puppy. And Bellatrix refused to be manipulated into feeling sorry for her. "I've got nothing to say to you, so if you're here to apologize or explain or lie to me some more - "
"Moody wants to see you," Alice cut in, seemingly back to her aloof self after the momentary weakness at the wedding. "Interview Room B."
Throwing a stack of parchment down with a huff, Bellatrix pushed past the girl rudely, making her way to the back of the hall where they kept the temporary cells.
Kicking the door open, she strode in, a furious demand already on her lips: "Couldn't let it go without getting the last word in, eh?"
Moody gave her a stern look. "Sit down."
That's when Bellatrix noticed the small group of wizards standing in a shadowed corner. Among them, she recognized a couple wearing the distinctive robes of the Standards and Oversight Bureau, a universally-loathed squadron of busybodies tasked with preventing people from doing their jobs.
"What are these vultures doing here?" she nodded towards them with a sneer.
Instead of answering, Moody tossed a file on the table in front of Bellatrix - who, after a few beats of uncomfortable silence, resigned herself to the situation, sank into the proffered chair, and began to look through it.
"Can you tell me what this is?" Moody asked, the blue pulsing vein in his forehead belying his calm demeanor.
"It's a wand-trace request I filed last year," she sighed, "for that stupid muggle-baiting case you put me on."
"So, you don't believe the Auror Office should protect the safety of muggles and muggleborns?" one of the Bureau goons interjected smoothly.
Eyeing his clipboard, where a charmed quill was poised to take down every accidental slip, Bellatrix was suddenly weary. "I didn't say that."
"The result of that trace isn't on file," Moody went on casually, "but Mayhew from Wand Registration swears he filed it. Now, why would that be, hmm?"
Shit, shit, shit, a voice inside her head wailed, even as she struggled not to show it. Hadn't she known from the start that this mess would come back to haunt her? Of course, it would be paperwork that finally did her in.
"No idea," Bellatrix shrugged, acutely aware of everyone's eyes upon her, "Probably embarrassed he couldn't make a match."
"But he did make the match." Moody gave a menacing smirk, like a hunter whose trap was about to be sprung. "And you know, he just happened to remember the name: Rodolphus Lestrange."
"School mate of yours, wasn't he?" the wizard with the clipboard cut in.
Bellatrix didn't like his tone one bit. "I interviewed the Lestrange brothers in connection with this," she told him, surprised at how even her voice sounded. "And there was no evidence to support their guilt."
Moody's fists hit the tabletop with a sudden bang. "There was no evidence because you buried it!" he yelled.
"If you could prove that I wouldn't be here, would I?" She could feel herself smirking right in his flushed, murderous face, knowing it would only antagonize him more but unable to help herself.
"Miss Black - " the clipboard-bearer interrupted before Moody could reach across the table and strangle her, "I have in my hands the contract you signed at the start of your employment." He paused to give her a piercing stare, although, between his blonde fringe and bottlecap glasses, he looked rather like an overgrown schoolboy.
"A condition of that contract," his colleague continued, "was your assistance in the investigation against Orion Black. Yet in three years, you haven't brought in a single piece of actionable intelligence."
"Well, we're not on what you'd call 'speaking terms'," Bellatrix hedged.
"What kind of terms are you on, then?" A sly smile graced Moody's face as he pulled out a stack of wizarding photographs, and she realized with a sinking feeling that they were all from the wedding. "Because it looks to me like Uncle Orion wants you in the family business. Enough to introduce you to his closest associates."
He flipped through the photos lazily - and there she was, in picture after picture, laughing along with Orion's cronies, looking very suspicious indeed.
"Are you aware that Avery is a suspect in the murder of a muggle politician?" one of the Bureau wizards demanded.
"I was just making small talk," she snarked back. "You know...as one does at a party."
They really had nothing on her. Just the word of a geriatric record clerk and a couple of snapshots (the latter, for all they could tell, perfectly innocent). "Anyways, how do you know I wasn't trying to get on his good side precisely so I could gather 'evidence' for you lot?"
"Because that type of reconnaissance requires prior approval from your Chief," Moody explained with mock patience. "And, oddly enough, such a request has never crossed my desk. Guess it must be with all those other reports you 'misplaced'."
"Oh for Merlin's sake," rushed out of her mouth in an exasperated huff. "Are you really still on about bloody reports after all these yea - "
"Collins," Moody said suddenly, cutting off her tirade. The wizard emerged from the shadows, his carefully neutral mask cracking briefly to reveal the naked triumph underneath. And that was when Bellatrix felt the first inklings of actual fear.
But before she could even choke out a tenth of the profanities on the tip of her tongue, Collins was already half way though his report: "... they all looked real chummy together... laughing, drinking. I don't think it was the first time she met those two, like she claims. Black certainly knew the Lestranges from school, including the parents. I heard Lestrange Sr thank her for some 'great favor' she'd done for the family."
"And we all know what that favor was, don't we?" Moody gleefully interjected.
"Then, Orion Black started complaining about the Auror presence," Collins went on. "And Avery said to her, 'At least we have a few of our own in place.' It was obvious he meant Death Eater sympathizers."
"Actually, I think he meant Puddlemere United fans," Bellatrix cut in snidely. "The Cannons somehow manage to have one good season, and suddenly everyone's flying their colors. No loyalty to speak of."
Mr Clipboard shot her an oddly perceptive look. "And you consider yourself loyal, do you?"
Conscious of them looming over her, she sat up straighter in her chair. "I do." Bellatrix may have been unsettled - she may have even been afraid - but she would die before she showed it. "Fidelis usque ad mortem."
"Faithful unto death," the Bureau wizard translated softy. "The original Black family motto."
Sensing she had revealed too much, Bellatrix stood abruptly. "If there's nothing else, I think I'll be going," she said, forcing the usual superior smirk onto her face. "Wouldn't want to miss my own initiation ceremony. I'm expecting honors, you know."
"Just a moment!" the Bureau wizard called. "If you have nothing to hide, you won't object to taking this."
From his inside pocket he pulled out a small, clear vial. She knew what it was immediately.
"Uh uh, I know my rights," Bellatrix scoffed, backing away towards the door. "You can't make me take Veritaserum without my consent. Which I have never given, and will never give."
He dismissed her words with a flippant wave. "Unfortunately, those rights have been indefinitely suspended. By decree of the Wizengamot."
"What? They can't just do that!" Bellatrix cried, searching the faces in front of her. But there was nothing to be found there except the rigidity of minds long since made up. She'd always been guilty in the eyes of these people - by association, by blood.
"Long overdue, if you ask me," Moody said, rounding the table, deceptively casual. "Ministry's crawling with Death Eater scum these days."
Bellatrix gripped her wand, adrenaline suddenly flooding her system. Logic and instinct warred with each other - Should she attack? Should she run? Should she play along for now?
The moment stretched on as she hesitated in the doorway… and then, a shadow twitched in the corner, the tension snapped, and the room broke out in a cacophony of spells.
Reeling from the impact of multiple stunners against her Protego, Bellatrix grasped at the wall for balance, disoriented.
"Grab her!" someone yelled. Arms came seemingly out of nowhere to wrestle her to the floor, and - where was her wand? All she could see were strange faces looming in her eyeline.
"Give me the Veritaserum," Moody snapped somewhere above her, then, peering down, "I'm gonna teach you and your Death Eater buddies a lesson, Black. You're going to tell us everything you know, and then we're going to round you all up, dump you in Azkaban, and throw away the key."
Collins appeared above her, grinning as he held the vial against her mouth.
"Open up," Moody growled, his calloused fingers bruising her jaw as he tried to pry it loose.
Bellatrix thrashed about, fighting the iron grip that had her pinned to the floor. Her head bounced against stone, and white spots momentarily clouded her vision.
There was no way she could allow this to happen. No way. She knew too much. If they got her to willingly incriminate her own family, she would never be able to live with herself.
Moody sighed. "Well, if you're going to be difficult…"
Without warning, he backhanded her across the face. Bellatrix gasped, and in that moment of distraction, she somehow managed to swallow a mouthful of Veritaserum. Absolute panic seized her as she felt the potion hit the back of her throat. Not knowing what else to do, she bit down on her tongue as hard as she could.
Blood, sticky and sweet, gushed from the wound - she'd hardly thought ahead to realize how much it would fucking hurt - and she choked and coughed. Moody reared back, disgusted as specks of her blood hit him square in the face.
That tiny lapse was all she needed. Grabbing the first wand her fingers could grasp, she shot off a powerful Reducto, crawling away as the room exploded with flying debris.
Everything seemed to tilt on its axis as she climbed to her feet - too much Veritaserum hitting her bloodstream at once - but there was no time to spare. Curses nipped at her heels as she careened down the hall, drawing the baffled stares of coworkers peering above their cubicles.
"Get her!" Moody wheezed to no one in particular. "Don't just stand there! She's under arrest!"
Bellatrix spun on her heel, her eyes darting to and fro in search of an exit, finally settling on the bewildered face of Alice Fawley. A flicker of hesitation passed across the girl's features, and then she raised her wand and pointed it at Bellatrix.
It was an odd moment to think of Judith Mintumble, but the memory of the woman's mirthless cackle was suddenly, inexplicably, echoing in her ears.
The rats are already here, Miss Black...
With a resolve borne of sheer desperation, Bellatrix cast Fiendfyre. The spell shot from her wand in a graceful arc, scorching everything in its path as it coalesced into a terrifying red-winged bird.
People screamed and scattered as the Auror Office went up in flames, while Bellatrix turned on her heel and ran. The lifts were out of the question - a certain death trap - so she took off into the labyrinth of hallways.
They continued to chase her. Every couple of steps she'd throw out a curse over her shoulder, hoping to impede their progress, her mind struggling to formulate an escape plan.
She'd never make it through the Atrium in the middle of the lunch rush. Not to mention that they'd probably alerted the Floo Authority by now. It would have to be the roof.
"Get back here...you ungrateful little…I'll have you brought up for treason..." Moody was panting incoherently. Bellatrix could just make out his limping gait among the clatter of footsteps.
The hallways seemed to circle back upon themselves as she sprinted past, blood pounding in her ears. Everything began to take on a surreal quality, like a half-remembered nightmare. It was almost as though she had been running in this windowless, dead-end maze her entire life.
"You're trapped, Black!" Moody called. "There's nowhere to run. Give yourself up now, and we'll go easy on you."
Biting off a disbelieving laugh, she narrowly dodged a slicing hex. Their spells were becoming increasingly vicious, and that told her much more than Moody's empty rhetoric. Where the hell was the exit?
"I'll bring those sisters of yours in here, shall I? See what they have to say for themselves."
A bolt of fear made Bellatrix falter. Could he? Did he dare? With Andromeda in exile and Cissy under the protection of the untouchable Malfoys?
In the next second, Bellatrix cursed herself for the distraction as a spell grazed her side. A searing pain tore through her and she hit the wall hard.
Hearing their approach, Bellatrix turned, clasping her ribs to stem the slow seep of blood, and raised her wand with a trembling hand. She was greatly outnumbered. Half a dozen Aurors faced her, their faces a mix of a outrage and incredulity at her refusal to surrender.
Shoving his way to the front, Moody waived an order to stand down. Bellatrix knew she must have made a sorry picture as he appraised her and laughed. "You've got spirit, Black. I'll give you that."
Spirit she may have had, but what she really needed at the moment was a way out. There were two hallways branching off the main corridor in front of her, and she was certain that one of them lead to the outside. Now, if she could only remember which.
"But you always were a wrong'un." Moody shook his head ruefully, though he was clearly relishing this moment. "Can't say I didn't warn you, all those years ago. You never did listen to sense. It's a pity really - if you'd done the right thing and helped us, you might have made a decent Auror."
Her answering smile was bitter. "Now, we both know that's not true."
A shiver seemed to go through the ranks - they raised their wands in unison and fired no less than five stunners in her direction. It was just what Bellatrix had been waiting for. The spells sailed over her as she hit the floor, her own silent Bombarda Maxima bringing down the ceiling in a hail of bricks. Amidst their screaming and flailing, she managed to drag herself from the rubble, rose on unsteady feet and gave Moody's unconscious form one last triumphant glare.
"No. I would have been the best damn Auror you ever had."
And with that, she turned and ran for the nearest passage, hoping against hope that her guess turned out right. There was no way she'd survive another round with that lot. Bleeding, shell-shocked, and dizzy from Veritaserum, she could have sobbed from relief when the door at the end of the hall brought her into the brisk, bright air of a London morning.
She had just enough energy left for one solid - hopefully, splinch-free - apparition. But where? Cissy was honeymooning in Venice, Andy had made herself unplottable to hide from the family, and she knew her parents' house had long been under Department surveillance.
There was…one other option. Not ideal, certainly, but likely the best chance she had to find refuge and safe passage out of the country. Before she could start double-guessing herself, Bellatrix apparated, rematerializing in front of a stately, though non-descript, Victorian.
Fortunately, there seemed to be no muggles about to notice a figure appear out of thin air, and half-stumble, half-drag itself up the stairs.
She knocked, and a moment later was greeted by the sallow face of Rodolphus Lestrange peering at her anxiously though the cracked door.
"Bellatrix! Wha-"
"I'm calling in that favor you owe me," she cut in, her voice a mere rasp.
"Could you - I mean - " he waffled, shooting a half glance behind him. It was hard to discern the look on his face: fatigue, apprehension, and some faint gleam of excitement. "This really is not the best time - "
That was not an answer she was prepared to accept. She pushed the door, intending to force him backwards, when a voice from within stopped her cold.
"Now, that's no way to treat a guest, Rodolphus," it hissed, soft and sinuous and somehow familiar. "Do invite her in."
The boy flinched, drawing aside to reveal the hall beyond, where she could just barely make out a pair of red eyes watching her though the darkness.
"Ah…." the voice drew closer, "...so this is the Bellatrix Black I've heard so much about."
