A/N – Linual, thank you so much for the review. Its good to know that someone is enjoying the story!
Chapter 5
I find myself sitting on the edge of the narrow pallet that constitutes my bed. I'm staring down at the floor, my legs dangling. The thinness of them shocks me once more. My legs are fine and long, shapely, not these skeletal sticks that protrude from the ragged hem of my robes. I notice that there has been an elaborate pattern drawn all over the floor, marks made in the dirt. I wonder how they got there, but then realise that I must have made them in my mania. It is becoming harder and harder to remember who and what I am.
It seemed an age since I last flew, and as I took off as fast as I could on my Silver Arrow, I had to resist the urge to whoop in joy. Even for one like me, whose father put her on a broomstick before she could walk, the sensation of freedom was astonishing. I relished the sensation of my robes whipping the air behind me, the green velvet snapping with the force of my flight. Confidently I threw my broomstick into a succession of difficult spins and turns, the Quidditch pitch rolling crazily beneath me. Selma Irby, one of the other Chasers, was hovering over the pitch, unaware of my position above her. The opportunity was too good to miss, and I swept silently down, grabbing her robes unexpectedly and pulling her with me in the dive. She screamed as I steered her, hurtling toward the soft green turf. At the last moment I neatly drew us both up short, earning a gasp of relief from Selma and our watching housemates. Selma pulled her robes from my fingers very huffily, and stalked off to stand behind Lucius, where the rest of the team had gathered. I followed, my smirk hidden behind one leather-gloved hand. Lucius gave me a look of mock disapproval before turning to the waiting hopefuls.
"We are seeking only the best. As you know, the Slytherin team welcomes only the most skilful, the strongest and the most ruthless players." Selma gave me a sneering look. I smiled back sweetly. "Let me introduce our team. Connor Burge, keeper. Saved 400 points last year alone." The crowd cheered happily for each member of the team. "Chasers Selma Irby, Ernan Elric, and, of course, Bellatrix Black. And you all know me. Lucius Malfoy, Seeker." They all roared for him, naturally. Lucius was the best Seeker that our house had seen for over a century, and had become the team's youngest Captain when he had been chosen the previous year. "We will be victorious. We will beat that great idiot Bagman. We will bring back the Quidditch Cup!"
The assembled throng cheered wildly. Lucius basked a little in their approbation, and then sent them all to sit outside the stands, allowing the potentials to enter in pairs. He had told me that he suspected that spies from the other teams would try to learn our strategy before the season began, and he was taking every precaution to prevent this.
The first pair entered. I watched them walk across the pitch from my position hovering fifteen feet above the grass. They were both most unprepossessing looking, the smaller of the two constantly brushing his black hair out of his eyes. Lucius looked surprised, and I swooped a little lower to hear what he said to them. He sent the bigger boy up on his broom, but kept the smaller on the ground.
"Severus. What are you doing here?" Lucius' tone was low, but not dangerous. I recognized the boy then – Snape – a son of one of the old families. His parents were dead, as I remembered it; their former estate bordered our own.
"I want to play. I'm good on a broomstick, Lucius – if you would just let me try…" The boy set his mouth stubbornly.
"Severus, we are looking for Beaters today." Lucius put a hand on Snape's shoulder, either to comfort or restrain him - I couldn't see his face. "You are too small." The younger boy's face fell, and he turned to walk away, dragging his broom behind him. Lucius called him back. "There are other ways you can help us. Help me."
"Anything you want, Lucius." I could see Snape struggling to hide his disappointment, and latch on to any small sign of favour from Lucius. Popularity and safety were almost guaranteed to those who walked in his shadow.
"There are certain people… who need to be watched." Lucius dropped his voice even lower, so that I could hardly hear his next words. "I trust you. Come to my study after practice and we will talk." Severus nodded, his heart seemingly a little lighter, and trailed off to sit in the stands and watch the try-outs enviously.
Unfortunately, there was little talent to be seen that afternoon, and I was beginning to think longingly of my own fire and a warm butterbeer by the time the last potentials entered the arena. I saw immediately that this pair was different. They threw a Quaffle between themselves with practiced ease, laughing and bantering as they walked toward Lucius.
I found myself unable to stop staring at them. They were both tall, broad in the chest and narrow at the waist. Brown hair curled around their faces in a most becoming manner. As they approached, I realised that they were speaking French. It seemed impossible that I should have missed two such perfect specimens of manhood, unless they were new students. But they were much too old to be first years. I had never heard of students transferring to a different school before. How lucky that they turned out to be the first.
"'Ello." The slightly taller of the two spoke. I could see Lucius drawing himself up to his full height. The top of his head did not quite reach the brown-haired boys' chins. This was going to be interesting. "I am Rodolphus Lestrange, and zis is my brother Rabastan. We are from Beauxbatons, where we played Quidditch for ze Chatroux 'ouse."
"Very well." Lucius sounded impatient at the relaxed tone of the French boy. "What years are you in?"
"Seventh. My brother, he is in ze Fifth." Rodolphus glanced at Rabastan, and a look full of secret meaning seemed to pass between them. Lucius merely nodded, gesturing them to get onto their brooms and passing them a bat each. As they took off, Rabastan winked at me. I merely raised an eyebrow in return. Lucius released the Bludgers for the umpteenth time that afternoon, and we all started to run through some practice manoeuvres.
The Lestrange brothers moved with a fluid grace, shouting and laughing to each other as they knocked Bludgers flying in all directions. The difference between themselves and the other, hopeless, potentials was obvious immediately. Lucius let us play for some time, however, seemingly caught up in some thought process of his own. At one point a Bludger was bare feet away from me, when Rodolphus swooped in close enough to touch and struck it away from me. I could smell the sheen of sweat on his skin, but before I could acknowledge him, he was away again.
Eventually Lucius called us all down.
"Well done, everyone. That is enough for today." He turned his unreadable steel gaze onto the brothers. "The team selections will be on the notice board in the common room by this evening." The Lestranges shrugged and walked away.
"I know you are going to select them, my darling." I said to Lucius in an undertone. He took my broomstick and carried it for me toward the female changing room. I noticed Selma's face contort with jealousy. How interesting. "I was wrong, you know." I brushed a stray hair out of his eyes before taking back my broom at the changing room door. "I think I can fall in love. I think I already have." Leaving his startled gaze behind me, I walked into the shadows.
The compulsion to weep comes over me, and I wish vehemently that I could have just one moment with my husband before we are both lost forever. It takes me a moment to realise that the sensation of grief has been brought on by the return of our guards, but by then I am already closing my eyes.
"BELLATRIX BLACK!" A woman's voice roared at me from down the corridor. I dropped the first year I had been holding against the wall, giving him a warning look as I let him go. He rubbed his shoulder and looked at me, terrified. I am sure that he had never regretted anything so much in his life, up until that moment, as bumping into me and not apologising.
"Keep quiet, toad, if you value your life." I narrowed my eyes at him, before turning meekly to face Professor McGonagall.
"Miss Black, kindly explain yourself!" The bony spinster seemed as angry as I had ever seen her. Her eyes bulged. She looked hideous. "Just what, exactly, were you doing holding a child against the wall like that?"
"He was running in the corridor holding his wand, Professor," I lied smoothly.
"Is this true, Crabbit?" The boy looked too petrified to move. He didn't answer, and McGonagall turned her attention back to me.
"Still, there is no excuse for such behaviour. Using physical methods…" She beckoned me to follow her. "We'll have to see the Headmaster about this. I shouldn't be surprised," she rounded on me again, "if he removed you from the position of Prefect! Ever-chew Toffee!" She spoke the password to the Headmaster's study, and the great spiral stairs appeared. As McGonagall moaned on about responsibility, I felt a lead weight settle in my stomach. If my father found out that I had been stripped of my position… I didn't like to think of the consequences.
We entered the study, Dumbledore's red and gold parrot looking at us as if it knew exactly what was going on. McGonagall started ranting about my behaviour, while Dumbledore peered at me in what I'm sure he considered a kindly but stern way. He looked constipated to me. I sat when told to and looked at the floor.
"Well, Miss Black, this is a difficult situation," the Headmaster began. I tried to look as contrite as possible. "Could you leave us, Minerva? I would like to talk privately to Miss Black about this." McGonagall nodded and spun on her heel, giving me a filthy look as she passed.
"Miss Black, as I'm sure you are aware, there is no excuse for using violence when disciplining younger members of this school." He laid his glasses down on the desk in front of him. "I am aware, however, of your… extenuating circumstances." I glanced at him, shock flooding my mind, but had to look away quickly. I knew what he was going to say, but I didn't want to hear it. "I understand that your mother was committed to a private institution over the summer, and that this is not the first time that your father has been forced to do so."
Memories asserted themselves over my mind's eye, no matter how much I bid them keep away. Black hair, so like my own. Walking toward her, nearly slipping in the wetness on the floor. My mother singing, a song she had sung to all of us, to all the sisters, when we were too small to talk. Her hand, holding the razor, slicing exquisite slivers of skin from her ivory flesh, rocking and humming as though it didn't hurt her at all. The blood running down her legs and pooling, black as treacle, on the floor.
"…because of the difficulties at home, I am willing to give you another chance." Dumbledore was gazing at me sternly. Hot needles were pricking my eyes. I would not cry, I refused to cry in front of him. "But be aware that any other incident will force me to reverse my position." I stood suddenly, surprising him. Desperately trying to hold myself together, I half-ran to the door of his study.
He caught me again, just as I was turning the door handle. He moved with surprising agility, considering his age. I tried to keep my head down, but he tipped up my chin so that he could look into my face.
"It is not a weakness to cry when you have reason to, Bellatrix." I could feel the tears start to run down my cheeks. I hated him for seeing them. "You would do well to let others take the burden, from time to time. We are none of us alone in this world." He let me go and I escaped as swiftly as possible, smothering the racking sobs that threatened to tell the world of my pain.
By the time I stepped back into the main school, my back was as straight and my face as composed as ever.