Splash, splash, splash..
The sounds of Lyra washing her flushed face in Bellatrix's bathroom was too much for the pureblood witch. The walk home filled her with something she couldn't quiet understand, yet it came coated with sticky desire. Till now it had only been Lyra's sounds of pleasure to fill the prefect's four bedrooms walls, her naked body writhing around underneath Bella's clothed one. Never once did she permit herself to be touched the same way and if Lyra tried her hands were quickly smacked away or pinned down to the bed. Bellatrix was too proud to ever let someone touch her in a way that could lead to a million and one other thoughts and feelings. When it came to sharing a bed with Rodolphus it was meaningless, a mere battle for power and dominance that was over within several minutes, but with Lyra it was different. Bellatrix felt and it scared her.
When Lyra returned to the room, the large windows displaying the sudden snow storm that had struck Hogwarts grounds in mere minutes she would also find Bellatrix's face, deep dark eyes, staring back at her in the large mirror that hung above the fireplace, fingers toying with something around her neck. The pureblood witch was completely naked from head to toe, her back to Lyra whose mouth had dropped open as words became dry in her throat. Black curls tumbled down her elegant spine to frame those perfect curves and peach shaped backside. Bella remained emotionless as she turned to show two pert breasts hidden by even more of her hair, a flat toned belly and the start of long legs that were hidden by the back of the chair she stood behind. Between her breasts was the raven skull, glistening in the light as her fingertips twisted it from one side to the other. It was then the smirk trickled across blood heavy lips.
"Well? How does it look?"
"I-I-I... uh, it's... oh -"
Standing in Dumbledore's office Bellatrix Lestrange chanted under her breath a curse, a word, a name, that would haunt her forever. "Lyra, Lyra, Lyra... please."
Within seconds the teenaged witch had cleared the room and grabbed at Lyra, their mouths clashed instantly. Bellatrix had been holding back long enough and little Lyra knew it, she could feel the desire and urge bubbling away in that beautiful body each time pale fingertips buried themselves between two shaking thighs. This time it was Lyra who didn't hold back as she was forced back towards the bed where she sat upon silk sheets like a throne and pulled Bellatrix onto her lap. Never once did their lips pull apart, not to breath or to talk, and Lyra couldn't seem to get enough of all of it, of Bellatrix. Hands didn't know where to touch, there was so much beautiful skin to explore, to caress and kiss, if only Bella would stop kissing her! Two hands met two soft breasts, two hard nipples and a thumping heart beneath a ribcage. The sounds Bellatrix made made the room spin, they were heavenly and breathtaking and Lyra needed more and more and more!
"Lyra!"
Bellatrix Lestrange let her tired eyes close as the room spun around her. Dumbledore's little office was becoming a prison, holding her mind and memories captive, using them against her will. She was too tired to play this game with herself any longer and the darkness of Lestrange Manor started to pull at the back of her neck, calling her back to a place where thoughts and feelings had to be buried six feet under and never given the chance to see day light again.
As she lowered her tired body into a plush armchair by the fire, shoulders aching and hands shaking, the last few scenes of that fateful memory flashed suddenly before everything started to become empty once more. Hands touching, linking, feeling and a trembling body that begged to be taken in a way that would release all that tension it had been storing for months. Lyra's fingers pressed between pale thighs and drove forward, fucking and taking away the last bit of sanity Bellatrix had left in her. As the dark witch cried out, her hips moving with each brutal thrust, Lyra's free lips latched onto a hard nipple and bit down on the bundle of nerves. That night the room was filled with only Bellatrix's screams and moans, her body naked against Lyra's clothes that smelt of roses and parchment. That night Bellatrix let herself be wanted, she let herself feel, she let herself trust.
As the two girls flopped down side by side on top of silk bedsheets the memories faded and left their keeper feeling sick with emptiness.
From that moment on the two young witches became bonded in a way that neither of them could explain, but there was no doubt that a partnership had been forged on the basis of trust; well, that's what Bellatrix had believed. Everyone at Hogwarts could see it, there was something going on and whatever it came to be was not to be meddled with. Lyra's fame had erupted over night, she wasn't just that odd girl from a different school that had her nose stuck in a book all day long, no, instead she became respected, people started to become envious for they could not seem to understand how one could become so close to Bellatrix Black in a matter of mere months - wasn't this the feared Slytherin Prefect of Hogwarts, the girl that no one dared to toy with? Now students moved out of Lyra's way when she walked between classrooms and corridors, curious eyes stealing glances at the mysterious yet beautiful young witch.
Bellatrix found herself in the company of Lyra nearly every night since their visit to Hogsmeade and she bathed in the comfort it gave her. Three weeks passed in a haze and Bella remembered it all.. there was laughter, mostly from Lyra who would sit herself back against one of the bedposts in Bellatrix's room, parchment spread across her lap in an attempt to do her homework whilst Black became a constant distraction through the insistent, and painfully hard to ignore, flirting, teasing and swaying of those gorgeous hips Hermione craved more than anything, throwing her arms about in a passion debate about elves, the structures of Wizarding families and politics or even the sight of the dark haired beauty leaning against the tiny stone balcony outside of her windows with a cigarette in one hand and smoke trickling out from the corner of red rose lips.
Then there was the sex. Both girls had thrown themselves into the throes of pleasure they gave to one another. No longer did Bellatrix hold herself back when it came to the Beaufort girl, she craved Lyra's touch more than anything else in the world built around them. Rodolphus had not visited his future wife's bedchambers in weeks, he was banished from mind at every given chance. Both girls had managed to maintain guilt free sex since their first encounter with one another, neither one cared anymore, for Bellatrix had gifted them with darkness they lapped at with greed. Each day came with a new bruise, bite mark or deep scratch. It became a game they played, yet it was only ever Bellatrix that seemed to win. Soon enough everyone understand who Lyra Beaufort truly belonged to.
As for Bellatrix the closeness awoke a longing inside when it came to the taste of Lyra's flower petal lips. Bellatrix Black didn't kiss, that was a well known fact, a kiss meant something that wasn't there and who was she, one of the most well bred and respected pureblood of her age, to lower herself down to that of a measly kiss! But she did when Lyra was around and Merlin there was never getting enough of that ripe, wet mouth. Whether it be down a dark corridor, a passing broom cupboard, under the bedsheets, watching Lyra study or suddenly throwing herself at the girl when laughter was bursting from her lungs like a soothing song... Bella couldn't get enough.
A sharp pop of burning wood caused Bellatrix Lestrange to jump free of the thickening memories that ravished her mind in the most painful ways. For every time she seemed to rise there had to be someone wicked enough to throw her back down into a relation the pureblood witch didn't wish to be part of anymore. To this day he still lingered behind her, an all consuming shadow that took what it wanted, leeching life and soul from those who dared to rise towards the light.
The gold wedding band was cold against pale skin and no longer did it shine like once before. The metal became dull with age, remind Bellatrix Lestrange of the husband still connected to her in a magical bond of wedding morals and pureblood bindings.
Rodolphus Lestrange had been promised husband as soon as Bellatrix turned the age of sixteen, their wedding would take place as soon as the eldest Black daughter turned nineteen. The sooner it was done the better, at least that's what her mother insisted on telling the Black offspring at every given moment.
When Black was taken over by Lestrange there was a sudden shift in the world. Rodolphus had waited, toyed and played with sickening ideas to take his wife to the pits of Hell where she rightfully belonged. He knew, of course, what was happening between his soon-to-be wife and the girl who had taken over Bellatrix's life. Wasn't it he who used to grace her bed? Wasn't it he, Rodolphus Lestrange, who would rise them both to power and riches! During those last few months at Hogwarts he could feel the grip upon Bellatrix slacking, the tension breaking and giving away. Arguments became laced with poison and fists of blinding fury, the sex was sickening, violent and possessive when Lestrange had the chance to slip into the Prefect's bedchambers. He took her without warning, not caring if the girl enjoyed it or not, who was he too care? It was a power trip, nothing more and nothing less, for he had to show everyone that it was he who remained in charge, it was he who left his fiancee torn and beaten upon silk sheets as he pulled on his trousers whilst she lay motionless besides him, head turned in the other direction.
Of course Bellatrix fought back with magic rather than fists, but Rodolphus was always stronger when it came to the bruises littered across her young body, the thumb prints burned into her neck and the bloodied bottom lip that stung far worse than the young witch cared to admit. But Rodolphus never left without his own pure blood dripping from flesh. He was to marry a tom cat, one with fangs and teeth that would cut and slice whenever his hands came creeping near. For now it kept him quiet but when that god forsaken ring was shoved upon her finger the challenge for dominance became a new world war.
Lestrange Manor was miles away from anything else, a country estate that was unkept and left running wild since Rodolphus' parents had passed and his brother moved on. The grounds were always thick with fog and mists that rolled in from the east, thick thrones and dying hedges covered the gardens that had no doubt once been beautiful and full of life.. now everything was left to rot into nothingness. Inside was just as dire, the candles being the only source of light as the thick, dusty curtains were always kept shut, it was a surprise one managed to breathe. The walls, floors, corridors and furniture had been carved out of the same dark oak wood always creaked and groaned, giving the Manor an eery sound of death, the life leaving it in withering moans of pain.
Here the light didn't exist. There was no warmth. No life. No Lyra.
By the time both Lestrange's hit their early twenties they had both become addicted to the hatred between them, and of course the alcohol it came with. Each night they would boast of their closeness to the Dark Lord, though neither one was truly close at all, as they duped down expensive whiskeys and threw the emptied glass bottles across the room in an attempt to injure on another. When the bragging stopped it was taken over by slaps, kicks and strangled throats before husband and wife would tear one another apart within their shared bedroom. It would always end the same for many years as Rodolphus stood by the edge of the bed, pulling up his trousers, whilst his wife lay with a torn dress and bloodied skin, head turned away from view as thoughts of Lyra somehow managed to hypnotise her mind.
Years passed and it was Rodolphus who became close to the Dark Lord, his face now appearing on wanted posters for murders of every kind, whilst Bellatrix kept to shadows in an attempt to gather information that may be useful to the cause she had signed herself up for. Black saw less and less of her husband as his power grew and Voldemort called for his instance at every waking hour of the day - at last she was alone, just how she liked it.
Just when the dust finally settled and Rodolphus never came home was the day when Bellatrix had her life turned upside down by the fate of one girl that left behind memories that would never fade, a girl that Bellatrix vowed to destroy.
"Keep still."
"I am!"
"No, you're shifting around like a child.. just give me a few more minutes. Please?"
"Fine." A sigh filled a small stone bathroom. "Just be quicker."
Water dripped, dripped, dripped...
A cloth ran down a naked spine, warm beads of water rushing down reddened flesh that shivered and rippled in discomfort. Sitting on the side of a sunken bathtub Bellatrix leant forward as a hand gently pushed against an exposed shoulder before running the length of a bare arm. The water fell down into the empty tub below, the sounds of every droplet echoing through the silence and the small huffs of frustration that came from Lyra as she knelt down on the cold floor besides the half naked pureblood witch, a bowl of warm water to her right and a damp cloth gripped tightly within her free hand. This was suddenly becoming a frequent event between the two of them and it wasn't one Lyra wished to be part of for much longer.
As her hand slipped off the edge of Bellatrix's arm as it lifted back up towards the thick bundles of black curls that covered the girl's bare back. With tender ease the curls were swept away, over one shoulder, as a saddened sigh tumbled from Lyra's mouth, bruises and red raw welts exposing themselves to the light. Once more Rodolphus Lestrange had left his mark, his message to Lyra, behind in a way that told her 'back off, Bellatrix is mine'.
"You know it would be quicker if you just healed them with your wand, Beaufort." Bellatrix snapped, her eyes rolling as the pressure of the cloth was rubbed along one of the more ugly cuts into her perfectly pale skin. "We are going to be here all day, stop faffing!"
"I'll finish it up with magic," The cloth was dipped into the bowl as it started to become a light shade of red, Bella's pure blood staining the soft material. With her head tilted, bottom lip trapped between her teeth, Lyra leant forward and dabbed at a thread of silk bedding trapped into one of the wounds. They were ugly and looked extremely uncomfortable, Rodolphus' hands and nails must've been filthy when they ripped apart his future wife. Pride still filled Lyra to the core though as her companion sat without making any fuss of the sharp pains that were spasming up her back each time they were touched, Bellatrix was a tough girl. "Let me just get the rest of the dirt out and then I'll use my wands. I don't want to heal them with magic and trap all the bad stuff inside, you'll end up with an infection and then you'll be spending the rest of your days in the hospital ward. I'd have to bring you all your homework and Merlin knows how -"
"Fuck me, do you ever shut up?! I'm fine, Beaufort! I don't need hospitals or any sort of special attention, I'm perfectly sound."
Lyra hissed, carelessly throwing the red stained cloth into the bowl. "Yes, looks like it to me -"
"Don't start."
"Me?! Have you seen what is riddled against your back right now? Have you seen what he's done to you once again because you finally have friend and he cannot stand it!"
In the blink of an eye Bellatrix had whipped her head around, gleaming black eyes locking onto the passionate fear that raced through Lyra's own brown orbs, as she lifted herself up from the ground and stood in the comfort of her own half nakedness. "Excuse me?" A harsh chuckle came from her cut lips before it formed into a sickening smirk. "I have a what?"
"A friend!" Lyra nodded confidently, arms now crossed about her chest. "Well, we've become so close these past few weeks and I see myself as someone you can trust, someone who you can call a faithful frien-"
"Fuck."
"Huh?"
Laughter, cruel and harsh, echoed around the bathroom as Bellatrix Black threw her head back in amusement that must've struck a nerve deep within Lyra's very being. The air grew thick and cold, like someone had sucked all the happiness and light from the room the girls stood so close in. "You're a faithful fuck, Beaufort. Nothing more and nothing less," Bellatrix's voice was filled with that perfect breeding and aristocratic upbringing as each word tore Lyra from limb to limb. No longer was the girl smiling or nodding her head. Her beautiful face dropped and the world around her started to crumble. "What, you thought because you shared my bed a few times you're suddenly close to me? Oh, I thought you were smarter than that. What a shame. No Beaufort.. you were just a distraction. And you always came crawling back for more after the fight and fire was fucked out of you."
Every single word was filled with hatred, each little letter spat towards Lyra who stood in the bathroom with tears glistening in those beautiful eyes. Bellatrix meant none of it, but this game between her and Rodolphus was becoming too deep and the threats had now been turned towards Lyra. Rodolphus wanted the girls blood, to destroy the only person that ever held something close to fondest for Bellatrix, the thought alone destroyed the dark witch, but she had to protect the girl in any way she possibly could... even if it meant losing her completely.
"Get out."
"What? No!" Trembling fingers snatched at Bella's wrists. "You don't mean that, I know you, I know you! This isn't... Bella... no, no I know this is just you trying to be brave and put up your barriers. I understand that you.. that.."
"That I what?"
Lyra never did finish. There she stood before the black haired beauty that had stolen her heart in fits of trembles and fear. "This can't be it, this isn't the end Bellatrix..."
Silence held the ground for several seconds before Bellatrix pulled her wrists free from Lyra's shaking grip, still standing with thick curls covering naked breasts. She was a goddess of beauty and death, one that would kiss you only to kill you. "Then why is it?" This time she whispered before picking up Lyra's book bag by the bathroom sink. It was carelessly thrown into those still trembling hands. "Get out."
"Bell-"
"OUT!"
Lyra ran from that bathroom like it had been set on fire as fear flooded her face, little feet stumbling a few times across the marbled floor in a blind panic as Bellatrix's roars sent shockwaves down her spine. Though it was not the fear that Black remembered, it was the crystal droplets of tears trickling out from the corner of Beaufort's eyes as they searched her companions face for any chance of hope that this was merely a joke, Bellatrix was just having her on and in a moment or two they would fall back into bed with one another and forget the wicked events of the evening. For the first time in her life Bellatrix felt empty and alone. The memory of it was maddening.
"What a fool I am! What a stupid little girl I was." The leather of the chair by the fire squeaked underneath Bellatrix Lestrange's weight as she shifted forward, placing both elbows upon her knees to steady the sharp intakes of air she was suddenly taking. All of this because of a child!
Twenty years had passed since that last fateful day. Twenty years and Bellatrix still did not understand how she had allowed herself to become so submerged into someone so simple and below her. Days turned memories sour and faint, perhaps it was too much alcohol and too little self care that took parts of Lyra's memories from mind. The dark with threw herself into her duties for the Dark Lord. She had no children, no family, of her own to distract her from every day life, nor had she ever felt the desire to birth another Lestrange. What if she birthed a son, one that was to become just like his father? Would he too tear his future wife apart out of spite and jealousy? For now social gatherings, large ballrooms full of dancing and champagne kept her busy, along with slowly allowing herself to be reunited with Andromeda after several pleading outburst from Narcissa. They were the famous Black Sister's after all, but not even they could take away that very last memory. The day that Lyra Beaufort vanished from Hogwarts, from Bellatrix, without nothing but a letter and a hidden identity.
Six days after banishing Lyra from her life Bellatrix had had enough. Rodolphus was bored of his fiancee now that the battle for her affection between himself and Beaufort had disappeared, and in all honestly his wife to be bored the living hell out of him. The spark she once held was gone, nothing but a dying ember, and each blow he inflicted was taken quietly and without a fight. Bellatrix grew tired and the games of dominance she played with those around her seemed suddenly pointless. Life was terribly boring without Lyra's shadow hanging around.
Of course there had been the glances across the classrooms in the lessons that both girls shared. Bellatrix's deep eyes only looked when Lyra was nose deep into a book or had her hand high in the air to answer a question. Did she ever look back in return? It was all too much, if Rodolphus wanted the exchange student gone he would just have to fight Bellatrix for it. But that day Beaufort didn't turn up to her lessons, she wasn't spotted in the corridors sailing through the parting sea of students, and no one remembered seeing her at the library. Odd. In a last attempt Bellatrix made her way towards the Great Hall as dinner was served from the kitchens below. As her eyes drifted down the Slytherin table they came to a sudden holt at the spot Lyra sat herself upon... but it was empty.
Bellatrix frowned, her legs taking her over to her two sisters that had already settled themselves down upon the benches to eat.
"Cissy? Have you seen Beaufort?"
Silvery blonde hair rustled against emerald green as Narcissa Malfoy looked up to see her eldest sister towering above her, eyes still fixated onto the empty spot along the bench. "No Bella, sorry. I haven't seen her for a while now that I come to think of it. Hey, Andy, have you seen Lyra?"
Andromeda Black had already shoved half a chicken leg down her throat, fingers snatching up a napkin as her attention shifted towards her siblings. She was almost Bellatrix's twin, save for the shorter brown hair and fuller cheeks. "Umm, fink'so -"
"Andy, you're disgusting!" Bella hissed whilst Narcissa giggled at the vulgar display before them. "Chew your food, you animal."
"Saw her," Finally the chicken was gulped down and a sip of pumpkin juice taken. "She was heading towards your bedchambers a few hours ago. I thought you had called for her? Maybe she's there now?"
Not needing to be told twice Bellatrix turned on her heels and walked as humanly fast as possible, her shoes clicking against each stone along the corridor floors, anyone that dared to get in her way was shoved aside into the closest wall. No one could stop her, not a student, teacher or Rodolphus Lestrange himself. Each step took her closer and closer, down the flights of stairs to the dungeons, along the winding little corridor, up the twisted staircase behind the status of a witch holding up a head before coming to a halt at the painting that guarded her room from view.
"Toujours Pur." Bellatrix whispered before the painting flung open. The witch practically threw herself through the open gap, pushing black curls from her flushed face. The room was silent, eery. She had expected to come in and see Lyra sat upon the bed reading a book, or taking a bath in the large sunken tub that she adored so much, but there was nothing but silence and the odd chirp of a bird as it flew past the windows.
"Beaufort! Are you here?"
Nothing.
"Lyra?!"
From the tap in the bathroom came the sounds. Drip, drip, drip.
Footsteps muffled against the thick rugs spread throughout the room as Bellatrix walked around her made bed and towards the large windows. No, Lyra wasn't upon the balcony this time. Perhaps she had come up with some books before going back to the library for more? Bella hurried towards the desk that she would watch Lyra read from as she did her homework, but there was no massive pile of books. In fact the only thing upon the table was a long scrap of parchment that bore the marks of Lyra's own hands.
'Dearest Bella,'
Slowly Bellatrix lowered herself down onto the desk chair, her fingertips curling underneath the parchment as Lyra's words came to life around her.
'There are so many reasons why I wish I could've told you the truth. Perhaps I was too scared, frightened of what you might do to me and those around you.. but I know now that you're not a monster, not the creature of darkness everyone makes you out to be. You're perfect, I wish they could see that. I wish they could see what I see. But I owe you this, I owe you the honest truth and nothing more. You see I'm not the girl you thought me to be, in fact I don't belong in your world or even in this time. I was sent back from my time, twenty five years into your future, to try and pry information from you on the growing development of the man you will one day call The Dark Lord. I failed that mission and therefore have been summoned back.
Never once did you truly utter words about the man you shall one day serve and stay loyal too.. I wish I could tell you all about it Bellatrix, but I dare not change the fate of the future. I beg you though to be careful, to think about the dangers that are coming your way and the results of your actions. I cannot lose you again.
You have taught me so much over this past year and the little months I have had at your side. Your companionship is like nothing I've ever had before, I've never been this close to another human being or felt the warmth in my heart like I did whenever I saw you. You've stolen something from within me Bella and it shall remain yours till my dying day. I think I've grown to love you... no, I do love you. I love you Bellatrix. You have shown me how wonderful the world is even when it is filled with darkness. You have sheltered and saved me on more than one occasion and I will never be able to thank you enough.
I know you pushed me away because of Rodolphus and I know that because of you I can go home in one piece.
Please do not marry him, you're so much more than he could ever be. Please don't let him hurt you anymore. Keep fighting.
I hope one day that we can find each other and I can explain everything that I cannot fit into this one letter. It's all too hard to explain this to you in person and I cannot bare to see that beautiful face twisted with sadness and fear.
Please try to understand... there is always a meaning towards the things I do... Bellatrix... My Bella.
Now I have to go, I wish I could say goodbye and kiss you one last time... those lips, oh, I know I shall never feel or taste anything else like it in this world or mine. I'm yours Bella, always.
Stay true to yourself.
I love you,
Lyra Hermione Granger.