A/N: This was written for BeaWrites who requested a Rita/Bella story. Sadly, she requested it from my aro ass so prepare for some sinister bitch wives who enjoy being mean for fun!


The train sat silent on the tracks, dark, damp and stinking of smoke and ash. The wisps of a fresh breeze filtered in from the open fields the train had stopped at, though it could do nothing to wash away the stench of burned fabrics and hot metal. The sun had long since set, only a cold moon and two pale wand lights illuminated the ruined carriages.

"Are you sure it's here?"

"When have my sources ever been wrong, Bella? Be patient."

The two women stepped over another body strewn across the centre aisle. The taller woman, whose wild, grey eyes were hidden beneath a mane of wild black hair, nudged the dead man with her foot. She cocked her head, gazing at it with an oddly soft expression; curious and childlike. She twisted the wand in her hand, her fingers dancing over the wood.

"Bella! Come, now, you can play with them later."

The wild woman's head snapped up, a playful pout on her lips. But she obliged, dancing over the body and skipping through the aisles catching up to her mate, a smaller, blonde-haired woman. Those eyes were not wild and grey, but cold blue and razor-sharp, framed by bejewelled glasses. Her hair was neatly curled, her make-up pristine. She seemed to hold herself with poise and grace, nothing like the wild woman who had leapt to her side and was snaking her arms around her waist, nuzzling into the softness of her neck.

The blonde smiled happily, relaxing back into the embrace.

"We have work to do, Bella," she muttered, allowing the wild woman to kiss her neck.

"Rita, Rita, Rita. All work, no play," Bella murmured against her throat.

Rita rolled her eyes and stood up straight. "I'll play when the job is done, love. Why don't you go see if there's anyone else on the train, hmm? I'm sure they'd love to meet you."

Bellatrix Black sighed but straightened herself out. She rolled her shoulders, then glanced back down the train.

"The Dark Lord won't be happy if all this work was for nothing," she whispered quietly. "If the Aurors catch onto what we're looking for—if Dumbledore—"

"Ah," Rita pressed a hand to the woman's mouth, quietening her. "My information is sound, Bella. The Bracelet is here. We'll find it. Don't you trust me?"

The wild woman searched her partner's eyes for a moment. It only took a second for Bella to trust whatever she found in them. She turned, taking off down the train like a hurricane made of black hair and robes.

Rita Skeeter watched her go. She watched as the wild woman tore one of the carriage doors off the hinges like it was nothing more than cotton, the metal screeching on its hinges, creaking and warping to make room for the hurricane that passed.

She was a wild woman. And Rita Skeeter loved every inch of her.

So far, the train they had… commandeered (for lack of a more appropriate word) all coincided with the information she had obtained from the goblin. Rita had always been sharp with a quill. Quick with words, quicker with questions. Always probing, nudging, smiling, charming. Weaseling information out of people who did not necessarily want to be weaseled. She was good at it. She enjoyed it: the constant digging for secrets inside people's heads to finally know things she shouldn't know. It made her feel powerful, like a twisted god who could construct towers of truths out of whispers and lies. Her people believed her. Trusted her. Worshipped her words like some sacred texts. Rita craved that power, she thrived off of it.

And when she was told her skills could be of value? Well, she had always loved having her name on things. Bella had whipped her up adding her to the hurricane of madness, brash and sharp and ruthless. Whereas Rita knew how to be patient, to tease out information slowly and delicately, Bellatrix tore at it with fire. Burning the truth from their lips, making them scream it to the skies in a roar! No one could hide from Bella, their deepest truths spilled like rivers in her presence. Rita was in awe of her.

The goblin had tried (they all tried, of course). His tongue had been steady. His mind was strong too. He had almost run out of fingers before he started talking. But after that, it was easy. The barriers in his mind fell like France during the war, and Rita had read his secrets like her own notebook. The Golden Bracelet glittered in his memories, so real she could almost touch it. The plan to move it across the country, the name of the train, the guards, the security measures. Oh, it read like a novel that Rita was just itching to write.

She smiled sweetly as she took it all down, her acid-green quill flying across the parchment as she asked question after question after question until the goblin was left hunched in his chair, drained of all the secrets he had ever held and utterly useless.

All they had to do now was retrieve it.

Rita made her way further down the train, counting the carriages as she went. The goblin had said Carriage Eighteen, and he hadn't been lying. Though they had thoroughly searched Carriage Eighteen. And seventeen and nineteen, but still no Bracelet. Not a glint of gold at all.

Rita was getting restless. "Accio," she muttered for the third time, and for the third time, nothing came flying towards her. She grumbled, sending another frustrated curse at the window and watching it shatter into light rain, the shards of glass glinting like stars as they fell.

She was not lied to. She was not wrong. It was here; it had to be. They wouldn't have lied. They couldn't have. Tricksy goblin. Horrid, lying little creature. It wouldn't dare lie to her.

Rita turned around Carriage Eighteen again, scanning the walls for any false panels, hidden cabinets, obscure hiding places. The seats had been pulled from their mounts, the padding strewn across the floor. The curtains were ripped from their rails and there were holes in the train wall showing glimpses of a steady, unmoving countryside.

But no Bracelet.

She pulled the notepad from her satchel and was rifling through the pages again, trying to link together something from her notes of the goblins story that they might have missed, when a shrill cry broke through the silence. Rita's head snapped up; she knew Bella's voice anywhere. Her wand was out before she had even thought about it.

There was a crack like lightning before her and Bella apparated into the carriage, her face split in two by a manic grin, her eyes alight with madness.

"Look what I found, my love!" she sang. She lifted her arm, showing the limp but struggling figure of a young boy, perhaps late twenties. His head was forced upwards, his hands clawing uselessly at Bella's arm which clutched his flaming red hair between her sharp talons. He glared at Rita, his jaw clenched with pain as a deep, purple bruise began blossoming on his right temple.

Bella dragged the boy to Rita, throwing him into the corner of the carriage and sending a flurry of ropes to bind him to a battered chair.

"You're bleeding…" Rita's hands fluttered over Bella's face, cleaning the thin trickle of blood that ran from a thin gash in her cheek.

"He put up quite a fight," Bella crooned, leaning into Rita's wand as she closed the cut, leaving no mark on Bella's flushed face. "A strong boy, filled with fire! We should keep him!"

Rita stroked Bella's face, ensuring there were no other cuts or bruises, then kissed her cheek. "Perhaps if he's good and gives us what we need," she said, turning to look at the boy in the corner.

He was panting heavily, clearly in pain from whatever battle had occurred between them. He struggled against the ropes, his teeth were still clenched and his eyes were fixed on them, tense and ready for another fight despite being wandless and bound.

Bellatrix laughed gleefully at the sight of him. "Look at him! So strong and proud!" She bounded over to him, crouching beside him and running one of her taloned nails lovingly down the side of his face. The boy flinched, leaning out of the way with a scowl. "You'll give my Rita what she wants, yes? You'll be good?"

The boy turned to face her. He paused for a second before lurching forward to smack his forehead against Bella's. Bella leapt back before he could make contact, cackling wildly. She shrieked and danced back behind Rita, winding her arms around her waist and resting her head on Rita's shoulder.

"He's a pureblood. A strong pureblood, from an ancient line. His whole family have been traitors, but perhaps we could break this one, hmm?" she nuzzled at Rita's ear. "Oh, how the Dark Lord would sing if we brought him a bowing Weasley."

Rita smiled. A Weasley, she thought. An old family. A prominent family, even if not for the right reasons. They had their hands in a lot of pies, a lot of good, strong connections with a lot of very important people.

A lot of stories… A lot of secrets…

She was getting ahead of herself.

"Keep on task, love," she muttered, stroking a hand across Bella's wrist on her waist. "Then we'll see if he's of use then, hmm?"

Bella smiled, tugging at her ear with her teeth before releasing her. A tease, Rita thought, rolling her eyes as she wandered over to the boy.

"We have some questions," she said, lacing her voice with charm and magic. "We need your help to find something. Do you think you can do that, my dear?"

The boy said nothing. He looked up at her, scowling. His eyes kept flicking from her to above her shoulder, trying to keep both her and Bella in view at all times. Rita sighed, not that she hadn't been expecting this, but it was always such a chore when they were difficult. She reached into her bag, pulling out a small, clear vial. The boy's eyes widened.

Rita let her lips curve into a sly grin, removing the cork of the bottle. "Well, if you're not going to cooperate, my dear, then we're at a bit of an impasse, aren't we? You'll recognise this, of course."

She pulled a small handkerchief from her bag and tipped the bottle upon it, letting some of the clear liquid soak into the fabric. "My Bella has modified this particular sample of Veritaserum. An anniversary present. Isn't she sweet? I think you'll find it most… effective."

The young boy's eyes were wide with alarm and fixed upon the fabric. Rita could see his shoulders heaving in fear. Yet he stayed, frozen and resolute where he sat, his jaw still clenched shut in stubbornness. Bella was right, he was a brave soul. Maybe he would be worth keeping.

"Bella, dear," Rita called over her shoulder. "Would you mind?"

Bellatrix skipped up beside her, delighted to be involved in the process. She took the handkerchief from Rita's hand and knelt down by the boy.

"Shhh," she cooed softly. She reached out, grabbing the boy by the back of the neck. The boy jerked, to pull away from her touch, but Bellatrix was strong. She held him firm and brought the handkerchief to his face, pressing it firmly over his nose and mouth. The boy yelped, the first sound escaping him since he had been apparated into the carriage with them. It was a small sound: low, pitiful and afraid. Like a weasel.

Bella held the cloth firmly to his face, forcing the boy to breathe in the fumes. But the boy was stubborn. It was almost a minute before his body betrayed him and broke, instinct taking over as he gasped for breath through the soaked cloth.

Bella smiled, petting his hair as he slumped down in the ropes, panting in defeat. "Strong boy. You will do well under the Dark Lord," she murmured.

Rita couldn't help but smile down at the two. Everyone always thought Bella to be heartless, to be wicked and cruel but look at her? So full of love and care. She was beautiful.

Unable to help herself (and not admitting to a little jealousy), Rita reached down and pulled Bella to her side. "We have questions that need answering, dearest. He is not your pet yet."

Bella scowled lightly but nodded. She hopped up onto one of the broken chairs beside Rita, swinging her legs and cocking her head, her wand ready and waiting between itching fingers.

Rita turned back to the boy who was spitting furiously onto the ground, as if he could rid himself of the potion. A good idea, but Bellatrix's modified sample was a little more potent than most. A little more… insistent, some might say. Perfect for milking truths out of unwilling cooperatives.

Bella had made it for her. "A sharp-tongued potion for a sharp-tongued woman," she had said. It was perfect. Rita adored it. It worked perfectly; just the right amount of encouragement without being too cruel.

Balance. Like her and Bella. Wild and poised. Rash and restricted.

"What is your name?" she asked the boy.

He hesitated. Rita laughed when he yelped. He shook his head, his jaw flexing and trembling until—

"William! William Weasley," the boy panted, staring up at her with a mix of fear and hatred in his eyes. His mouth hung open, teeth stained red.

"Good! Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Yes," William couldn't help but answer the question and Rita smiled at his frustrated scowl.

"He will be a strong fighter for the Dark Lord!" Bellatrix shrieked, rolling back in her chair with wild, cackling laughter.

"Yes," muttered Rita. She hunkered down in front of the boy. "Now, William, you're going to be a good boy and answer my questions truthfully, like the Veritaserum wants. Otherwise, the Sharpening Solution that my dear Bella has infused it with will turn your tongue to knives. And we've already learned that that's not very comfortable."

Rita dabbed away the thin stream of blood that was trickling from his mouth with the edge of the handkerchief. William glared at her, a fiery hatred in his eyes that burned almost as bright as his hair. But it held little consequence, Rita was in control now.

"Now, you know of the Golden Bracelet? The one that enhances the magic of the wearer, yes? Answer me."

The boy didn't hesitate. He leant forward and spat a glob of spit and blood right into Rita's face. She jerked and stumbled backwards. There was a cry from beside her, but Rita couldn't make out the words. She wiped her eye with the handkerchief, blinking furiously and grimacing as the smell of the potions fumes stung her nose where it still clung to the fabric.

Rita managed to right herself just as the boy cried "Yes! I know of it, I know of it," in a desperately strained voice. Rita looked up. Bellatrix had the boy's hair grasped tightly in her talons, her wand was digging deep into his throat and she was growling a never-ending stream of curses and threats into his ear. The boy's eyes were wide with fear, his mouth hanging open and still stained with blood.

"Bellatrix, dear—"

"Rita!" Bellatrix dropped the boy's head and clamored towards her, scooping Rita into her arms. Rita petted her shoulder softly, trying to calm the wild woman's temper. She let Bella murmur the wicked promises of revenge into her ear, letting the protectiveness of her partner wash over her like a blanket, warm and safe and secure in her arms. When she let go, Bella's eyes were still clouded with fury, but she had more control now, gripping Rita's arm like a vice to keep her from harm.

The boy was slumped over. Whatever Bella had done in those few moments had taken their toll on him. But he was still breathing, which meant Bella must truly see value in him. Rita had known Bella to turn men to ash for less.

"I see we've learned our lesson there too," Rita said softly to the slumped figure of the boy. There was no sound from him. This was dragging on now. They had to be back soon, before the Auror's realised they had halted a Gringotts Service train in the middle of british countryside. They didn't need all that palava.

"You know about the Bracelet. Tell me where it is. And sit up, boy, or Bella dear will make you."

William looked up. His mouth dripped with blood, one eye was swollen shut under a blossoming bruise to match the other on his temple. His whole body was shaking, likely the aftereffects of a quick but powerful Cruciatus curse. Bella had been thorough.

He answered faster this time, although still struggling against the words in one final bid for defiance. He must have been a Gryffindor, Rita thought. They were always the messiest to break. Stubborn fools.

"Door," William breathed, eyeing the other door on the other side of the carriage, the one not torn from the hinges. "There's a password. Safe room." He grimaced as the words fell from his lips, guided by the Veritaserum.

"And the password is?"

The boy shuddered again. "I don't—Ansel set it. I don't—"

Bellatrix threw a spell at him. The boy grunted as the hex collided with his shoulder, his red hair falling into his eyes. Rita felt Bella squeeze her arm once more before making her way over to the door the boy had nodded at and studying it, her wand twisting and flicking as she tested the spells.

So it was here, the Golden Bracelet she had heard so much about. She had researched it, of course, as you would with any new story or piece of gossip too good to be true but honestly it didn't interest her that much. It was only rumoured in the texts, a whisper of a rumour at that. Nothing worth investigating, or so she thought. According to legend, when the Great Dragon had blessed Excalibur for King Arthur, he had also blessed another gift for Merlin. Something to help Merlin on his quest to ensure Arthur reunited Albion. A Golden Bracelet, mined by the goblins, carved by centaurs, twisted by elves and worn by man. An object, united by all the magical creatures of Albion, which would empower the wearer with the magic of all beings. This Golden Bracelet gave Merlin such power that he was able to split oceans, twist hurricanes, live an extraordinarily long life while doing extraordinary things which pressed him into the pages of history.

A relic once thought to be lost to legend. Apparently, now, no longer hidden.

The Dark Lord had heard of it. He didn't believe in legends, he truly believed in the relics of their ancestors and had a remarkable obsession with hunting them down. Bellatrix (much to Rita's surprise) agreed. She had listened with eager ears to his stories and thrown herself into searching, dragging Rita and her quill beside her.

"These objects have power, Rita. The Dark Lord knows this. That's why he finds them. That's why he entrusts them to us, to show we are worthy to him and of them."

Rita had gone along with it. She had always enjoyed the thrill of a good story anyway, but was nevertheless surprised when their hunt led them to the Gringotts Train. Bellatrix had been so happy when the Dark Lord praised her work. She had smiled so prettily that Rita couldn't help but be proud of her too.

She was excited to see how happy Bella would be when she was able to hand her prize to the Dark Lord. Their hard work and dedication was to be rewarded and glorified. Bella would be delighted.

Bellatrix let out a loud shriek, pulling Rita from her thoughts. The door was swung open, the hinges smoking and glowing slightly with the force of the spells Bella had put in to break the locks on the door. She stumbled and Rita ran to catch her.

"Bella—"

"NO!"

Bellatrix was pale, her skin ashen from the strain of her magic. She was already covered in a thin sheen of sweat and her arms were shaking. But she stood, shoving Rita weakly to the side as she stormed into the Safe Room with a face mimicking the fury of thunder and fixed on the prize.

Behind her, a small groan floated from the boy, still bound in thick ropes in the corner. He was slumped weakly in defeat, staring at the blown-out door with a look of mourning in his face. Rita could see his arms tugging desperately at the ropes to no avail, his wrists rubbed raw beneath them. For the first time, the flame-haired boy looked broken.

"It's here…" The revered voice emanated from the Safe Room and Bellatrix emerged, clutching a small, black box as though it was made of glass. She stroked it, looking up at Rita with wonder. "It's here, we did it…"

"We did it, love." Rita floated to Bellatrix, wrapping her carefully in her arms, taking care not to crush the box. Bella leaned into Rita's shoulder, still whispering, "It's here, we have it!" as though she could scarcely believe the Bracelet was finally in her hands after so much searching.

Rita pulled back, taking Bella's face gently in her hands. Her eyes were sparkling with joy, happiness radiated from the wild woman so much that her strained magic seemed to glow with it. She was beautiful, and Rita couldn't help but kiss her, smiling against the wild woman's lips when she felt her kiss her back. Bellatrix's hands never left the box, but she leaned into Rita and Rita held her, running her hands through the woman's hair, down her hips, feeling the magic spark beneath her fingers, wild and sharp.

They still leaned close, even after the kiss broke. Foreheads resting against one another, Rita's hands clutching Bella close and Bella holding their prize between them.

"We should return this to the Dark Lord," Bella mumbled, stroking the Golden Bracelet with careful fingers.

"We should," Rita replied, not really wanting to move at all.

"And the boy?"

Rita chuckled, remembering the mourning look on his face not moments ago. "You did say the Dark Lord would sing if we brought him a broken Weasley. Imagine how he will praise you when you bring him two gifts."

Rita could almost feel Bellatrix vibrating with pride, a wide smile lighting up her face. "He will be pleased."

"You are his most dedicated follower, my love." Rita tilted her head up, pressing a slow, careful kiss onto Bellatrix's forehead. "You are his equal. People fear your name as they fear his. You are a wonder; ruthless and wild and wonderful!"

Bellatrix stared up at her. "I love you," she whispered quietly as Rita stroked the hair from her face.

"I love you too, my queen," Rita replied, pressing another soft kiss to her forehead. "Now, let's go claim your prize."

Rita made her way back towards the boy, still slumped in the corner. His eyes had drifted closed, the blood from his mouth still dripping and staining the fabric of his torn trousers. Rita stood above him, using her wand to tilt his head towards her.

"Your information proved useful. I hope the Dark Lord sees the potential in you that Bella does. Good sources are so hard to come by these days."

Rita grabbed a handful of his robes in a strong grasp. The boy pulled away, but it was weak action, a broken effort. She held out her hand and Bellatrix took it, winding her fingers between her own. She smiled, and together they Apparated with a sharp crack, leaving the smoking, stinking train abandoned. It's figure, wrecked and silent, under a heavy moon and a thousand watching stars.


I don't have the brain to write the sequel to this. I'm sorry, it deserves to be continued and perhaps one day I'll get around to writing the full story that lives in my brain but at the minute I'm just a coward and going to write the fun bit.

THC June challenge.
Prompt - Golden Bracelet
WC-4040
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