Bella fell face down on her pillow, even as she cursed herself for acting like a foolish teen. Why did she keeping Draco get to her? Because he's your nephew, an inner voice whispered, because he's your sister's only son and this will destroy them. Because you care about him, because he's the son you never had.
She remembered her school days; her pale skin, hooded eyes, brown, wavy hair, granting her any number of suitors even then... and Rudolphus, the studious but sly sixth year who always found a way to follow her, without her teachers noticing.
She'd been flattered at first, but his possessive nature was frightening and he feared her obvious intelligence. It had been her who had persuaded him to join the Death Eater's; at least then she would have won herself some freedom from his stare. Of course, she hadn't counted on herself becoming one of its most ardent members. At 19, she had been the youngest and the Dark Lord had seen her potential right away.
A couple of murders in a quiet muggle hamlet, some families tortured, lots of hue and cry, but she was never caught. Even then she had delighted in dealing out pain. The Dark Lord had understood that and fed her delight with more delicious experiences.
That was when she had discovered she loved Him, that she would die for him, and the Devil could take Rudolphus. Her family had been disappointed at her half baked reason for breaking off the engagement, but she couldn't tell them the truth. She could still picture Cissy's disappointment as clear as if she had broken the news yesterday.
The Dark Lord's kiss was more passionate than Rudolphus,' more painful, harder, quicker, but perhaps that just suited Bella's true nature. It had gone on for months, and yet he'd never taken it further, never lifted a finger to have her in his bed, and then one day he had ordered her to marry Rudolphus Lestrange. Just like that, no real explanation. She could have continued the House of Black with Him willingly, but no, instead he had sold her off like a piece of meat to the highest bidder.
She had been devastated and Cissy had been the only one who had known why. Without Cissy, Bella could never have gone through with the wedding preparations, the wedding itself, the morning after, living together in ill disguised hatred for years. She had chosen to render herself infertile.
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get on with it," hissed the voice in her necklace.
She could still feel the tears on her cheeks. Draco or him? Draco or him? Whichever choice she made would be the wrong one.
The sibilant voice continued, "Why didn't you do it? You showed weakness today... I grow tired of this charade, Bella, either you want me or you don't."
"I do," she whispered miserably, "I have for years."
"Then prove it!" The Dark Lord whispered menacingly. "He's only a boy, and a weak one at that. He's small fry. It could be over in a matter of days."
"I can't," said Bella fiercely. "He... is... my...only...nephew!"
The voice was low and frightening. "Peter Pettigrew has been asking how you are. Shall I tell him you're his? I'm sure he'd be delighted."
Bella shuddered in utter revulsion. Peter had always been a little pervert. Suddenly she wondered if she really did want the Dark Lord anymore? Was he even capable of loving? Could he care about more than her body?
He sighed in mock irritation, "Crucio.'
Somehow it worked despite his lack of physical presence. It was utter agony but she stuffed her fist in her mouth to hold the screams inside.
"You're strong Bella and always have been. Prove to me you still are." The pain was gone and the Dark Lord's voice was warm and promising and yet she no longer cared, no longer felt the ecstatic joy at his very presence. But still she wanted him gone, so she told him what he wanted to hear. "I will," she whispered as the blue light in her necklace went out.
"I will," Draco heard Bella whisper defeated, as he listened at her bed room door. He had followed her, frightened by her absolute look of defeat, but never in his wildest dreams had he expected to overhear the Dark Lord himself.
He opened the door a little, peering into her room. She was sobbing silently on the bed; not the sobs of an adult, but the heavy, broken and terribly frightened, racking sobs of a child. Her brown curls stuck to her face and her eyes were red rimmed from the tears. Even in such utter devastation she was beautiful, perhaps more beautiful than ever, in her natural state, stripped back from her shell of evil.
She looked up at him but said nothing as he walked quietly into the room and sat at the edge of the bed.
"Have you come to torture me too? This is tearing me in half."
Draco shook his head, still saying nothing. His finger moved a stray curl back behind her ear. "I understand why you did it now. I don't hate you for being afraid."
Bella smiled sadly. "I wasn't afraid, not ever. He always owned my soul." Her voice cracked and she broke into fresh sobs, "I'll never be free of him."
"We'll find a way," whispered back Draco earnestly.
Bella shook her head. "You can't. He knows all, sees all, and he'll win one of us in the end." She sounded so full of helplessness and despair that Draco almost felt like giving up himself.
He tentatively put his arms around waist and she leant back into him, sobbing into his chest, as he rocked her back and forth like a child, gently kissing the river of her hair.
The silence went on for what felt like an age. At last Bella spoke, her voice cracked and sore from sobbing and talking and fear. "One of us will have to choose."
"What do you mean, don't be absurd! You're good Aunty. We'll run away and join the Resistance Movement. Heck, I'd even join Potter himself if it meant survival."
"Don't be foolish, Draco. They'll never accept us."
"We could try," replied Draco lamely.
"It would never work, darling. One of us must choose. In the end, Draco, in the end one of us must die."
"But can we choose Aunty and still live with ourselves?"
Bella's eyes were haunted. "I don't think so Draco. I think that it is the price one of us must pay for the rest of our lives. I think choosing will never let us go."
She was so sad, so fragile, that Draco stopped caring that she was his Aunt. He kissed her on her pink lips, lovely pale cheeks, chocolate ringlets and tried to will his own tears away.