Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter series.
Faltering
The weather was a late October evening and the time of day was blustery darkness. But despite the dreariness, and despite that Bellatrix looked very much like she had challenged the wild outside of the almost concluded day and just barely emerged the victor, a calmness settled into Narcissa's chest. For once, Bellatrix had employed proper heating to her house, and a ravenous fire blazed in the fireplace giving the room, in addition to the warmth, it's only light.
As the sisters sat in a lazy silence, a long and pointless conversation just finished alongside their drinks, the fire began to hiss. The long red flames turned green and raged to escape the confines of the hearth. With a gasping sputter of ash, a wiry mass of black robes and black hair tumbled to the rug that waited before the fireplace. Narcissa's eyes flickered to Bellatrix who had made no move beyond curling her fingers around her wand.
The figure drew a shallow breath that broke with a succession of tiny coughs. Shaking hands pressed against the floor as the figure fought to elevate himself from his unceremonious entrance. But the man, no he was really just a boy, was drowning in his robes and his trembling legs would not lift him from their tangled masses.
Bellatrix's pretense of detachment transformed into a snarl of disappointment. She leapt from her superior position in the armchair to confront the boy who sobbed against the floor.
"Get up," Bellatrix said.
She snatched the robe's hood and lifted the gangly boy with a flourish of frustrated strength.
Regulus staggered for a moment, his usually pale face a color like Polyjuice Potion. He glanced frantically about the room as though he was a hunted thing, then turned to Bellatrix. With a small noise like a dying mouse, Regulus flung himself at his cousin. Bellatrix, so used to deflecting physical affection, caught Regulus but held him with no suggestion of pity.
"What's happened?" Narcissa asked.
She walked to stand next to her sister.
Regulus muttered his reply into Bellatrix's shoulder.
"Regulus."
Bellatrix lifted Regulus's chest from her own and stared into his terrified face.
"Tell me."
Regulus's lips parted slowly, and he spoke in a whisper, "I've done it."
Bellatrix's coolness thawed visibly. The harsh line of her shoulders dropped. Her eyes no longer blazed with the fire but smoldered with concern.
"You've done what you had to, Regulus," Bellatrix said. "There's no shame in that."
But Narcissa knew that what shamed Bellatrix and what shamed the rest of the world were things separated by a vast difference. And Regulus gave every appearance of shame.
"Regulus, what?" Narcissa asked.
Regulus turned his face from Narcissa and looked helplessly at Bellatrix.
"I don't even know if I meant to, but…" Regulus gulped for air in quick little breaths.
"You must have meant it, Regulus, or the spell wouldn't have worked," Bellatrix interjected.
Understanding dawned slowly and horribly upon Narcissa. She was accustomed to the work of the Death Eaters and sympathetic to their causes. But to imagine Regulus capable of murder was intolerable.
And yet he confirmed it in a breath, "I killed him."
Narcissa didn't concern herself with the name or blood status of Regulus's victim. It didn't matter, not when Regulus shook with sickness.
"As you were supposed to," Bellatrix said.
She relinquished herself from Regulus by appointing him to a chair. With two flicks of her wand, Bellatrix summoned a glass and the bottle of Firewhiskey. She poured the drink and then pressed it into Regulus's trembling fingers.
"Drink it," she said, "before you get sick all over yourself and my furniture."
Regulus devoured the drink while Narcissa stood frozen in this new reality.
When Regulus finished with a shudder, he leaned closer to Bellatrix as if to reveal yet another hideous secret. Narcissa contemplated turning away, for she knew her business was not that of death but the life that could pump on in the midst of death. But she watched her cousin and sister; the morbidity founded itself in Narcissa as a twisted fascination, a disbelief.
"Will I always feel like this?"
Bellatrix's expression flickered with the briefest concern caught only by Narcissa.
"No," she said.
Regulus ran a hand through his hair and again sought Bellatrix's wisdom.
"Did…" Regulus paused. "Did you feel like this?"
Bellatrix said nothing. Her face might have been marble for how rigidly it held Regulus's gaze without emotion. Then, she opened her mouth, glanced imperceptibly at Narcissa, then closed her mouth.
Helpless tears drowned the blackness of Regulus's eyes.
"It will pass, Regulus," Bellatrix assured her cousin.
More disturbing to Narcissa than her sister's hardened heart was how Bellatrix brushed a lock of Regulus's damp hair from his forehead and gave his shoulder a squeeze in the absence of a smile.
Bellatrix was not a woman found indulging the insecurities of others, even if those weaknesses settled themselves in the trembling hearts of her family. Yet she very nearly coddled Regulus as he presented a confession that hurdled toward blasphemy.
Regulus looked into the eyes of his mentor, eyes that didn't burn with reproach that gleamed with a stale brand of sympathy, and he calmed.
The corners of Bellatrix's eyes crinkled with understanding, but Narcissa was not so fooled as Regulus.
Bellatrix was a Slytherin not just for her ambition. She was cunning and she was using that cunning to manipulate her cousin.
"You are destined for this. I promise you, it will pass."
Regulus gave a sudden yelp and for a moment Narcissa thought Bellatrix's veneer of affection had worn thin. But her cousin's face paled and her sister's face flared with color. Regulus's hand shot to his left sleeve.
"You came here before returning to him?" Bellatrix hissed.
Regulus opened his mouth then looked frantically to Narcissa, then back to Bellatrix under whose gaze he recoiled.
"I couldn't; he would see that I was-"
"Scared? Pathetic child, don't you think it will be worse when-"
"I'm not scared."
"You are. You're scared of the Dark Lord. You're afraid of me." Bellatrix's mouth formed a thin line as she examined her cousin. "You're afraid of yourself."
Narcissa knew Bellatrix had struck the truth, but Regulus was frantic. And frenzied Blacks never met good ends.
"Bella, admonishing Regulus will not atone for his lateness to the Dark Lord."
Bellatrix met Narcissa's wisdom with a sigh.
With his eyes wide as constellations Regulus begged Bellatrix, but Bellatrix walked away.
"I am afraid, Bellatrix," Regulus admitted.
Bellatrix shoved a top onto the bottle of Firewhiskey. The crystal clinked against crystal like the chaos of aristocrats.
"He only likes me because of you."
At this, Bellatrix turned swiftly to face Regulus.
"He doesn't like you, Regulus. He doesn't like anybody," Bellatrix said bitterly. "He tolerates you because he is convinced, as am I, that there is some promise in your birth."
The expectation rested upon Regulus's shoulders giving him the appearance of a wizard much older than barely of age. He held his arm against his chest like a wounded appendage.
"Now leave my house, Regulus," Bellatrix said.
The command was harsh, but Regulus smiled weakly at his cousin for he knew that Bellatrix's affection revealed itself most honestly in its harshness. Bellatrix raised an eyebrow to recover from the smirk that transposed something too much like love upon Regulus. With a toss of his hair, Regulus threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire and disappeared.
Narcissa watched the flames lap against the grate from which her cousin had vanished.
"Did you mean that?" she asked quietly.
Bellatrix flopped into the chair she had occupied prior to Regulus's unseemly entrance.
"Mean what?"
Bellatrix's eyes drooped, and Narcissa could sense that her sister was sinking into a state of mind which Narcissa could not understand.
"You know what, Bellatrix," Narcissa sighed, weary already of playing the pawn to Bellatrix's mind games. "Does Regulus really show promise, or is his bloodline his only promise."
Bellatrix opened her eyes fully to examine Narcissa with that gaze that suggested she was displeased.
"Isn't his bloodline enough?" Bellatrix drawled, her lips curled into a position that indicated the start of a mighty argument.
But Narcissa's resolve didn't waver, not on the matter of Regulus. And if Bellatrix wouldn't, or perhaps couldn't, see the war with a dispassionate eye, then Narcissa had to provide the voice of sense.
"It's a weak promise, Bella."
"Don't-"
"What will a name give you in a fight?"
Bellatrix sulked under Narcissa's too sensible stare.
"A purpose," Bellatrix spat like a petulant child.
Narcissa touched the tips of her fingers against her forehead, closed her eyes to clear her mind of its worries.
She spoke gently, "Bella, purpose can't shield you from defeat."
"But it can deflect it."
Narcissa pressed her lips together. She would never advance her point if she sought to do so by arguing with Bellatrix, the most stubborn woman Narcissa cared to know.
"Bella." Narcissa exhaled and gauged carefully her sister's indignation. "Bella, your philosophies work well enough for you; I have few doubts regarding your abilities. You're not going to lose your life to anything less than your own passion- and I know few things greater than that."
If Bellatrix knew how to manipulate, she had learned from Narcissa, the mistress of well-placed compliments.
"But Regulus isn't you," Narcissa continued. "He doesn't have the same… panache for dueling that you inherited. Regulus falters."
"He still has instincts."
"But I don't think he trusts them," Narcissa pressed.
Bellatrix sighed, rubbed her temples.
"No, he doesn't."
Bellatrix poured herself more Firewhiskey, swirled the liquid with ambivalence then threw it down her throat. Narcissa absentmindedly tapped her fingernail against the rim of her glass. At the high, tingling sound, Bellatrix remembered her duties as hostess and offered her sister something stronger than pumpkin juice. Narcissa hesitated. She hated the taste of Firewhiskey and didn't quite appreciate the ease with which the drink could render her a complete fool. Not that she ever let it.
But her head buzzed enough on its own without the help of some drink only the likes of Bellatrix entertained. And Narcissa was already beginning to feel numb without its services. She shook her head, and Bellatrix swung the bottle so that the liquid sloshed against the sides.
"I don't think cheering charms are going to take the edge off of war," Bellatrix noted.
Narcissa did not appreciate the truth that leaked through her sister's sarcasm.
"Fine," Narcissa said. "But mix it with something."
She watched Bellatrix rummage through bottles with a crescendo of clinking crystal. "I don't know how you can drink that awful stuff plain."
"I'd hardly call it plain," Bellatrix laughed as she handed Narcissa a glass.
Narcissa sniffed delicately, then took a tentative sip. The sip was a small one, so only the tip of Narcissa's tongue burned with a surprising sweetness.
"What did you add?"
"Cheering charms, no doubt."
Bellatrix gave a crack of laughter as she clanked her glass to Narcissa's.
"Cheers, indeed," Narcissa said.
"We'll give this drink to Regulus, no?"
"Yes," Narcissa answered quietly.
She wished her sister had not resurrected the subject. But back to surface it came, and no amount or combination of drink would end the worries of the war as Narcissa perceived it.
"He's so young."
Bellatrix shrugged and her hair fell from its resting place on her shoulders to brush against her arms. With the dark frame of curls and the dancing flames from the fireplace, Bellatrix flickered between looking old and young. Bellatrix shifted, and the timeless illusion broke. Bellatrix was present and very much so.
"I was so young."
"You've never been so young," Narcissa said with a touch of sadness. "Not so young as Regulus."
"No," Bellatrix agreed.
She stretched in her feline way and yawned, mouth opened and eyes bleary with tiredness.
"But he'll survive."
"He'd better," Narcissa said. When Bellatrix didn't respond, she added, "And you'd better-"
"-make sure he doesn't die before he produces an heir, I know," Bellatrix deadpanned.
"Bella, must you always be callous?"
Bellatrix rolled her eyes.
She tilted her head and appraised Narcissa with an impish grin.
"Really, Cissy, I'm actually a bleeding heart. But don't you dare tell anyone."
Author's Note: A Belated Happy Halloween! Special thanks to crissu whose review sort of set this chapter in motion. I do so appreciate reviews.