Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. Please read and review, and feel free to suggest ideas for further chapters. Cheers.
I'm Not Ashamed, You're Entertained
The first few months of first year passed uneventfully enough for Bellatrix and the new friends she had made. She and Rodolphus had formed a sort of strange bond, built mostly on trying to out-do each other in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Severus had proven himself to be a natural at potions, blushingly admitting, to Professor Slughorn's delight, that he had been practicing with an old chemistry set since the age of ten. Evan Rosier, much to everyone's amusement, had become the first student at Hogwarts in over three decades to actually enjoy History of Magic.
"Blimey, Rosier. I don't understand how you do it," said Rodolphus, yawning widely. "I think you're the only person who managed to stay awake during that whole class!"
"Yeah, Binns does tend to drone on a lot. But I guess if you can just see past it, you know, it helps a lot? I mean, goblin wars are brilliant, just not the way he teaches it, you know?" Rosier adjusted the straps of his bag and looked over at Snape. His long nose was in a small, red leather-bound book, and he wasn't paying attention to where he was going, evidenced by the fact that he was rapidly approaching an open door.
"Snape!"
Rodolphus grabbed the other's shoulders and steered him away from the wall, smirking all the while.
"I reckon we should just let you crash next time, Snape. What with all this scintillating conversation going on around you, I'm surprised you feel the need to read at all!" Rodolphus looked around and threw a backwards glance down the corridor they had just come down.
"Speaking of scintillating, where's Bellatrix?"
A pause followed this question, and Severus and Evan both looked over at Rodolphus, confused. It was Snape's turn to sneer, something he did both quite well and extremely often.
"What, Lestrange, do you fancy her or something? The shining dark hair and glorious ebony orbs?"
Rodolphus elbowed Snape in the ribs, and intoned something about "reading too many bloody Muggle romance novels!"
"Besides," Rosier pointed out, "what's not to fancy? Or at least be interested in, or something…you know? The way she talks, you'd think she spends every second reading Dark books or something, or…killing small furry animals, you know?"
Rodolphus grinned, and said: "I wouldn't be surprised if she did, Rosier."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One hour later, the three boys had finished their dinner, and there was still no sign of Bellatrix. They traipsed back up to the common room, confused but not altogether concerned. After all, it was very like Bellatrix to hole up in the library right after their last class of the day and not come out until very late. It was even more like her to meet with Professor Carrow, their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, at the end of some days to discuss one of Bellatrix's "imaginative" essays, or to lend her books for extra reading.
At nine o'clock in the evening, however, after all of them had finished their Astronomy essays, and Rodolphus and Severus had started a game of chess while Rosier sat in a nearby chair reading "Grindlewald: History of a Leader", they could stand it no longer. The four had been inseparable since their first day at Hogwarts, and it certainly wasn't like Bellatrix to go a day without hanging around with them, let alone a day without challenging a teacher or expressing an odd, often bordering on fanatical point of view in their classes
Despite this, during History of Magic, their last class of the day, Bellatrix hadn't said anything at all, preferring to sit between Rodolphus, who was tipping his chair back on two legs while sucking on a sugar quill and Severus, who was scratching notes busily onto a piece of parchment, looking up every few seconds to make sure he'd heard every word of Binns' lecture, saying nothing and every so often glancing at the window with distant eyes.
Rodolphus looked away from the chessboard and consulted the large clock in the corner. 9:17. He looked over at the other armchair by the fire, which was occupied by a blonde first year girl he'd spotted Bellatrix talking to a few weeks ago. He hazarded a guess at her name. It was something with an E, he was quite certain…Emma, or Eva…
"Evelyn? I'm Rodolphus Lestrange…um, I'm in your Potions class. I was just wondering if you know where Bellatrix is? You know, Bellatrix Black? I haven't seen her lately, and we're," he gestured to Severus and Evan "just wondering where she is."
Evelyn rolled her eyes and put her quill down, being careful not to smudge a still-wet essay. "I'll go check out dormitory. Stay down here."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Within five minutes, Bellatrix had descended the stairs from the girls' dormitory looking extremely happy. Her dark eyes were glittering as always, and she had on a wide, not entirely plausible smile. Spotting Rodolphus, Rosier and Snape, she stuffed the piece of parchment she was holding into her robes.
"Lestrange! Evelyn tells me you were looking for me?" She smirked, one corner of her mouth lifting in amusement. "I have to say, I'm flattered, but I was just working on an essay. No need to get worried or anything."
She plopped down on a large green couch next to Rosier, who hastened to make room for her. Outside, the sky, framed by the mullioned windows was growing darker, and a light snow was falling. Severus Snape paid absolutely no attention to this, preferring to watch Bellatrix. There was something different about her, something altogether not quite right. He quickly realized that if he wanted to keep his new friends, he would need to show some interest in their well-being, or they would think he was an ungrateful Half-Blood.
"Bellatrix?"
She looked away from the book Rosier had abandoned on the nearby table, dark eyes flashing. Her dark hair was pulled up in a loose bun, and her green-and-grey striped tie was loosened. The sleeves of her pullover were rolled up to the elbows, and she looked every inch a girl who had just been writing an essay or doing homework. Nothing out of the ordinary.
It was then that he noticed her eyes weren't glittering with the familiar sarcastic glee, they were glistening.
"Yes, Snape? Have you looked at this book, by the way? It's fascinating. My aunt Elladora knew Grindlewald, you know. He really was a crusader for the pure-blood way, did loads of wonderful things for Wizarding society. He greatly affected the…uh…social infrastructure of the Wizarding world." Bellatrix wrinkled her nose. "Or at least that's what Aunt Elladora says." She stuck a hand into her robes, as if to make sure her parchment was still there.
It was strange, Snape thought, for Bellatrix to be so…he couldn't put his finger on it. At the very least, it was decidedly odd to carry around a finished Herbology essay. He looked around and Rodolphus and Evan, who had started a new chess game and didn't seem to be noticing anything else. Apparently, Bellatrix's behavior wasn't out of the ordinary to them.
It came out in a rush of words, so garbled that he wasn't sure she even heard him: "Have you been crying? I mean, your eyes are all red around, and I guess maybe it's a pureblood thing, but it just seems like maybe you're sad about something…or something?"
Bellatrix looked over at him and smiled. If it was anyone but Bellatrix, someone he figured he knew pretty well after five months, he would have said it was the smile of a mad-woman. Her lips curled into a sneer and the red kohl (if it was red kohl) around her eyes seemed more pronounced than ever.
"You have no idea."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From the desk of Druella Rosier Black
Toujours Pur
January 19th, 1966
Bellatrix,
Shortly after your return to Hogwarts following the Christmas holidays, your father was taken ill. He is currently at St Mungo's Hospital, and the Healers are doing everything they can to ensure his return to good health. Although the Healers are not sure what your father has, one of them has confided in me his suspicions that your father's body has been taken over by a Muggle disease, something that sounds like "kanser". This same Healer also had the audacity to imply that the only way your father will be able to receive treatment is through a Muggle institution, utilizing Muggle medicine. We are Blacks, and we are purebloods, and this Healer was severely reprimanded by both myself and your father for insinuating that we would stoop so low as to transfer your father out of St Mungo's and into a Muggle hospital.
The Healers at St Mungo's have consequently given your father no more than three months to live, and your father understands this. He only hopes that Andromeda, Narcissa and yourself learn to uphold the pureblood way after his passing. It is your father's request that you and Andromeda stay at Hogwarts during this time, as he does not wish to upset you, nor for your studies to be disrupted.
-Mother
Bellatrix;
Never stop learning, never stop loving and welcome life as a blessing. Carry on the pureblood way with pride, and never forget your roots: they are what you have come from, and what you will be. I love you, my Bella.
-Father
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Severus Snape put the piece of parchment down gently, in exactly the spot on the couch where it had fallen from Bellatrix's robes. He noticed his hands were shaking slightly.
Neither Bellatrix nor Snape mentioned this strange evening in the common room again. Lessons got harder, examinations drew nearer and friendships grew stronger still. Bellatrix never uttered a word about her father's illness. Snape watched the owls all through the end of first year, but nothing bearing the Black family crest was dropped unceremoniously in front of Bellatrix's breakfast.
At the end of first year, when Snape had not heard anything positive nor negative about Cygnus Black, he chalked up his shaking hands, and the entire letter from the strangely cold Druella Rosier Black as a dream, some strange figment of his imagination.
A year passed, then two. Bonds were cemented, and still, nothing was heard about Cygnus Black. Evan grew more and more fascinated by history, especially by Grindlewald and his take-over of Wizarding Britain, and subsequent defeat. Bellatrix and Rodolphus formed an inseparable duo of Dark Arts knowledge and quick wit, to the point where they could be found in the library or, during Hogsmeade weekends, in The Three Broomsticks, discussing the finer points of curses and hexes they were learning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, or poring over books Bellatrix had smuggled from Black Manor: her father's prolonged stay at St Mungo's had apparently given her free reign of the library.
Snape, for his part, was still excelling at Potions, much to the absolute delight of Horace Slughorn. He was also still obsessing over Cygnus Black, wondering how Bellatrix of all people, someone renowned for her passionate outbursts, could remain so calm and perfectly untroubled while her father lay dying in London.
On the last day of third year, Snape risked going to the corner of the courtyard where Rodolphus had somehow tricked Bellatrix into giving him a hug goodbye. He approached them apprehensively, and as the pair parted, Snape touched Bellatrix's arm lightly, feeling for all the world as though his limbs were too big for his body, and his tongue too wet and massive for his mouth.Rodolphus looked at Snape, slightly confused, then spotted Lysander Yaxley and hailed him with an "Oi, Yax!"
"Bellatrix. I hope your father is okay."
She looked at him, very intensely, and for a moment it was hard to believe that the girl in front of him, with her dark eyes blazing in the dazzling sunlight, was only thirteen. He had made the ultimate confession, after nearly two years. He had finally admitted, albeit indirectly, that he had read something that was obviously not meant for him. And she was probably going to kill him.
He was wrong, ultimately. She glared at him for what seemed like an eternity, looking like she was deciding whether to hex him or slap him. Then her eyes lost their fiery anger for a moment and she looked up at him.
"Thank you."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On July 13th, Snape received his Daily Prophet, like always. He turned to the back pages, where the obituary section was located, like always. On the top right corner of the page, a smudgy black square bore the Black family crest, and under it, the words Cygnus Black: peacefully after a long illness. Succeeded by his wife, Druella Rosier and their three children, Andromeda, Bellatrix and Narcissa. Condolences can be presented to the Black family on 17th July at Black Manor. The obituary was simple and straight to the point, and Snape felt a strange weight lift from his chest as he read it. He studied the Black family crest for many hours that night, trying to find more meaning in the smudged "Toujours Pur."
Years later, he will swear that he heard her sobs from miles away.
Authors Note: This took forever, and I am truly, truly sorry for that. Real life totally sucks, honestly. So this story has taken something of a darker turn quite quickly, and also spanned a lot more time than the other chapters, which is cool. Now that they're in Fourth Year, they can do all kinds of fun stuff. R and R with some suggestions and I'll probably use them, unless they're like…Dobby/Rosier or something. Cheers!