Chapter 3

My vision clears slowly, and once again I feel the dirt on the floor, the filth that streaks my once-white skin. When the Dark Lord comes, all those pious little muggle-lovers and mudbloods will know my pain. They will know what it is to rob someone of their wits, of their powers, and leave them incapable. The pain in my temples is excruciating, but I must concentrate. I must remember that once I was beautiful, and desirable.

Lucius in his study was a glorious sight. The fire threw golden and orange lights onto his hair, making the lush whiteness of it seem to dance with colour. He was sitting at his desk, seemingly engrossed in writing a letter, and it took him a moment to look up at me.

"Bellatrix! Why on earth did you knock?" The slight curve of his eyebrow betrayed his surprise. "I thought you were my drudge, come early."

"I wasn't sure if this was your study," I started a minute examination of the room, as he went back to his writing, "I didn't want to burst in on old McGonagall in her drawers." He laughed at that. I liked to hear him laugh, that warm, rich sound that seemed to be his alone. I wandered around the oak-panelled room, pausing to look over the darkening forest beneath us, the imperfect glass making the view warp and swim before my eyes. "It's dusty in here." I observed, crumpling some of the fine grey powder, watching it coat my white fingers.

"Mmm. Hence the drudge." Lucius stood, and stretched, the light from the fire picking out the hard planes of his face. He settled himself into an overstuffed tapestry armchair, and watched me as I finished my examination of the room.

"I do believe that your room is bigger than mine." He barked a laugh.

"Then I shall have to come and see for myself." He held out a hand to me, white and smooth, and I took it, letting him draw me onto his lap. For a time we nestled together, content, while he stoked my hair, his lips pressed to my forehead. Finally, he stirred. "Why don't you love me, Bellatrix?" His voice was low, almost wistful.

"I don't think we have it in us to love, either of us." I shifted in his lap, causing him to moan gently. "We aren't like them." I kissed his throat, felt the pulse run quicker under his pale skin. "Those riff-raff with their idle tongues and idle bodies." I shifted, placing one knee either side of him, my robes flaring around us. "We're better than them."

"We know what it is to hate." Lucius slid his hand down my hair, pulling the black length of it around his hand, forcing my head back so that he could kiss my throat hungrily. "To want…" He breathed against the skin of my chest, pulling my shirt open, pushing the fabric down over my white shoulders so that my robes and my shirt fell around my elbows.

We were interrupted by a knock on the door. Lucius looked at me and smiled. "Come!" I sat still and waited. The door was pushed open by a scared looking whelp of a boy, carrying a white feather. "Ah, Lupin. Bellatrix, this is one of my drudges." I quirked an eyebrow at the word 'drudges', but decided to question him about having more than one later.

"Hello." I glanced at him over my naked shoulder. The boy was of no consequence.

"Lupin, I was going to have you dust my room and do some writing for me, but now I have a better idea. Close the door." He captured my lips in a long, burning kiss. "I believe that women are not something that interests you," he gazed at Lupin over my shoulder. The boy gave no reply. "Well, I'm going to give you a lesson. Sit." He pointed to the desk chair he had recently vacated. I smiled down at him, delighted by the perversion of his plan. "You can watch, Lupin." His mouth seared mine once more.

Our passion burned long and fierce that night, and was all the more sweet for the gaze of the boy sitting behind us. When Lucius finally dismissed him, he fled, his cheeks wet with tears, leaving us to laugh in each other's arms.

The memory twists, and spirals out of control. I feel as though I were wrenched from the study, pulled backward into darkness. They are here.

A church. Such a quaint and pointless waste of stone. A breath of sweet spring air stirred the hems of my invisibility cloak, as I sat and pondered the rabble of muggles and mudbloods in front of me. The groom's side of the church was full of dull looking men and women in suits, having boring conversations about accountancy and flowers. My sister's side was full of rowdy young wizards and witches, surrounding McGonagall and Dumbledore. The two old bores kept throwing around disapproving looks, but the younger ones ignored them. Eventually the organ music started and they all stood.

My sister Andromeda entered, looking bewitching in a simple white gown. She took Sirius' arm and he walked her down the aisle, looking as proud as if he were her father, not just her cousin. My father would have nothing to do with this sort of ceremony, of course. If she would have listened to sense and married Barty Crouch when he'd asked her, none of this horrible nightmare could have happened. My cheeks burned with mortification at the thought of my own sister disgracing the family.

Tonks, the idiot muggle bridegroom, came forward to meet her. He was just as bumbling and dull as could be. Trust Andromeda to choose the most stereotyped muggle possible. No dash and charm for her, nothing beautiful or wild. I thought with some satisfaction of my own husband, of the way he had held me against the wall and slapped me when I told him where I was going. He would pay for that later, my Rodolphus. Tonks shook Sirius' hand. Of all the family, only Sirius would sully himself by coming here publicly. I was the only other family member to attend, to witness my sister's degradation.

I stood as the ceremony ended, not wishing to be caught up in the crowd. I stepped outside into the fresh, sweet air, and something died inside me. I realised, perhaps for the first time, that my sister was now my mortal enemy, arrayed with the ranks of the stupid and impure. The mark on my arm burned me as I walked quickly away.