Love's Odyssey in Death's Design
III
"What are you looking at?" Irritation and a thread of fear laced the hissed inquiry, her pale hands pulling sharply at the black hood that covered her dark hair, as she wondered if a cry of alarm or the summoning of Aurors, ready to take her back to Azkaban in chains, was imminent.
"Er...nothing? But you are standing in a puddle, or didn't you realize?" The wizard who had spoken bore a look of confusion, clearly taken aback at the hostile tone, shaking his head as he walked away from the odd witch who seemed a bit out of sorts.
Huffing in frustration, she could feel her heart's attempt to slow its thumping cadence from the shot of adrenaline that had coursed through her blood down to its normal beat. A quick glance at her boots confirmed that yes, she was in fact standing in a puddle of muddy water, the dragon hide submerged up to the laces at her shins. With a harsh curse, she pressed onward, leaving a trail of wet footprints in her wake.
There was a curious sort of freedom that came with being unrecognizable to the eyes of passerby that Bellatrix had never before experienced. From the moment she had taken her first breath, her identity had been cemented in the form of birth announcements in both the Daily Prophet and Warlock at War periodicals - the great and Noble House of Black, one of the Sacred 28, had added a new addition to their illustriously pure bloodline. From that day forward, no one she had ever encountered in the Wizarding World had been ignorant to who she was and this was further made manifest over the years, during and following her tutelage at Hogwarts and later as the Dark Lord's most formidably ruthless lieutenant.
This though, to not have looks of horror or revulsion cross the faces of people, to have them just walk by her, paying her about as much attention as one would a stone on the pavement, it was strange. So much so that at every window she passed, Bellatrix took a moment to peer into it, studying her reflection just to reassure herself that she really was in fact, herself. Azkaban had certainly done a number on her looks and she had been aware of the fact even before recent events had given her a rather painful reminder. Literally. But underneath the tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, the lackluster tangle of curls that were starting to grey at the roots, and the dull teeth that were thankfully no longer blackened and decayed from Azkaban's lack of proper hygenic amenities, but neither the polished ivory white of yesteryear, there was still the obvious evidence that at one point she had been incredibly beautiful.
She scoffed at her own vanity, the sound holding a note of bitterness. This was not the time to dwell on such thoughts, as it was pointless. What she needed to do was think. Somehow she had landed in the middle of a small Wizarding community on the outskirts of London, she had no wand, and absolutely no idea as to how she was going to locate this hypothetical person - some unknown random person, mind - who she was supposed to make fall in love with her and vice versa in order to appease a deal she had made with a Horcrux; a deal that if she failed to fulfill, within a year's time, would bring about her death. The situation made her want to laugh until her gut ached, it was about as insane as people thought she was.
So why had she accepted the offer? That was the true question, not the how but the why. The likelihood of her falling head over heels for someone in the course of five or ten years was slim to none, let alone one year. And Bellatrix knew that. So why had she basically condemned herself?
The answer was both complicated and simple.
The Dark Lord was gone, never to return, she was sure of that. The Dark Mark, the tattoo that had both magically and metaphysically bound her to him as well as all of the other Death Eaters, what had been something like a second heartbeat under her skin, it was gone. After all these years, there was nothing of the mark left, not even a shadow or an outline. Everything in her should want to be just as dead as her former Master was. Perhaps if things had gone entirely differently, she would have relished in being killed in battle like a true warrior, defending the cause with every fiber of her being until the very last moment, gladly falling if it meant that her beloved Master would emerge victorious in his endeavor to kill Harry Potter. But something deep within her had been altered, corrupted in that blinding white abyss, that place between life and death. And while the thought made her want to bang her head against a wall or scream until her vocal chords were reduced to a shredded, useless mess, Bellatrix realized that a tiny part of her - perhaps greater than that even - wanted this second chance at life, the second chance that the viciously resentful piece of her soul had promised her.
And anything Bellatrix Black Lestrange wanted, she seized in one way or another.
So now that she had finally summoned the courage to admit that truth to herself, what was she going to do? Spend the next twelve months praying to bump into someone who would supposedly see what no one else could, that she was in fact a convicted murderess who had been formerly known as Lord Voldemort's most faithful and trusted? And then what? Bloody invite them to tea? And where the hell would they have this hypothetical tea? Cissy's? Lestrange Manor? Madame Puddifoot's? Maybe that pink heart filled monstrosity of a cafe would somehow set the mood for love and affection?
This was ridiculous.
She was not aware of her current appearance, only being able to see her true self in any surface of reflection, so she had no idea how she looked to the outside world. Her 'new' look could not be that terrible, she supposed, as there had been no lingering stares or pointedly averted glances from those she'd passed. She wondered briefly how she might be able to convince Narcissa that she was really her sister until she realized that it should not be too hard.
Her memories were still intact, she knew things about both her siblings that no one else could possibly know. Having no wand though, she would not be able to Apparate to the Malfoy grounds in Wiltshire and it would be far too conspicuous in the midst of the small crowd of people to take to her Animagus form, that was if she still possessed the ability to do so because technically she was dead. Other methods of travel were likewise quickly shut down. Like stealing a broomstick from somewhere for example, and flying to her destination. That was out of the question if the laws of secrecy had not been altered during the war. Those of the Wizarding World might not be able to recognize her as Bellatrix Lestrange, but that didn't mean she couldn't still be arrested for outing the existence of magic to the rats without tails. Her only option, really, was to take the Knight Bus.
The thought made her shudder. Purebloods like herself usually avoided the bus. It was so Muggle-like, it was sickening. But with her only other choice looking towards arriving by foot, which would more than likely take days, time that she didn't have to waste, she steeled herself to her fate. Funny that the whole thing could be rendered null and void if she just so happened to die from a broken neck caused by whiplash aboard the purple deathtrap.
Flagging the thing down was surprisingly easy, the screech of rubber, though, was received with a grimace of displeasure. Bad enough the Ministry had taken the idea for the bus from Muggles, but had no one possessed the sense to cast a decent silencing charm on it so that it wouldn't disturb the peace? Not that peace or the disturbance of it had ever been a concern of hers.
But, still.
The pimply faced youth that was commandeering the outrageous eye sore of a vehicle looked somewhat familiar though she didn't allow that show on her face. Eleven sickles, he said, was the price for a ticket. Smashing. They actually expected payment for a ride that could very well maim an individual. And she had no money anyway. The Horcrux had deposited her back in the land of the living with nary a Knut on her person. Strangely the only tangible thing she did possess, besides her clothes, was her pendant. It was as if the necklace's delicate links had never been broken, the silver and onyx pendant resting just below the place where her collarbone met. But that did her no good. The item that contained a fragment of her soul was hardly a bargaining chip. And the lack of a wand was once again painfully obvious as the desire to Imperio the sorry excuse for a man made her hand twitch in earnest. Intimidation wouldn't work either as her face was unrecognizable, and she would rather be eaten alive by rabid werewolves than even entertain the hope that perhaps this was the wizard with whom she was supposed to fall in love.
"I haven't any money," she uttered through clenched teeth, the sheer loathing of having to ask a favor of someone who clearly was nowhere near a level of worth such as her own damn near debilitating, "I am stranded here and desperately need to find my way to my sister's home so if you would... please allow me aboard, I would be grateful." The 'please' had taken her two tries to get out but the conductor did not seem to notice. Taking a long moment to contemplate the situation, that very much made her want to claw his eyes out of their sockets, he finally nodded and jerked his head in the direction of the passenger section.
Making sure the hood still covered as much of her hair as possible, Bellatrix initially opted to stand, not at all wanting to lower her standards by sitting on one of the beds. Salazar only knew what manner of witch and wizard had utilized the cots. But the moment the bus took off, like a rogue broom with intentions of killing its flyer just for the hell of it, she rethought her decision and with a begrudging huff, settled for perching lightly upon the edge of the nearest bed while she gripped a metal pole with her full strength.
Amidst the cacophony of deafening bangs, a blaring horn, and that infernal Banshee-like scream of the wheels, Bellatrix was dimly aware of a strangled sound coming from the patron seated behind her. Her first instinct was to ignore it, after all she had been through too much to have to worry about the problems of another. She had her own to work out. But when the attention of the conductor was also roused, Bellatrix couldn't help but succumb to the curiosity that urged her to glance back.
What she saw made the blood in her veins turn to ice. She froze, her breath catching in her throat.
It was the Mudblood Granger, Harry Potter's little girlfriend or whatever she was to him. And she looked about as horrible as one might if they had been trampled by a herd of Hippogriffs. All that bushy brown hair looking even more frizzled and frayed than she had ever seen it, the face moist with perspiration, holding a sickly pallor, purple bruise-like circles beneath the eyes. Eyes that were trained on her face, that flashed white with sudden terror and a clarity that belied her current, obviously inebriated, condition.
"Oi!" Shunpike barked out, lunging forward as if to catch the brunette as her eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted. But he wasn't quick enough. And of course Bellatrix made no move to assist, even though she was sitting closer. She was still trying to comprehend what she had just read in the eyes of the now unconscious girl. It was impossible. Unthinkable. Unacceptable. But with every replay of the incident in her mind a simple truth remained unchanged. And it made her want to vomit. There had been recognition in that slightly unfocused hazel stare. Plain as day. But then, no. That would mean...she couldn't even say it, couldn't even think it. Absolutely not.
"We need to get 'er to St. Mungo's," the conductor croaked, clearly distraught by the turn of events, "Sorry miss but this could be an emergency. Yer welcome to come wif us or get off right 'ere if ye want."
Maybe she had imagined the whole thing, maybe she had merely been seeing things. She had been labeled mad for a reason after all. But the ringing in her ears and the pounding of her heart only served to extinguish the tiny flame of hope before it could even spark. In its wake, a storm of fury and repugnance was beginning to form, a tremendous cyclone that tore through her body, simultaneously ripping apart and impregnating every fiber of her being with its thunderous wrath.
"LET ME OUT!" she screeched, causing the conductor to jump nearly a foot in the air at the sudden harsh volume, his acne covered face gone lax from shock, "LET ME OUT OF THIS ROLLING SHIT BOX THIS INSTANT!"
He didn't have to be told twice. As the doors sprang open, Bellatrix all but flew off of the contraption, not even pausing to watch it take off like a purple bat out of hell into the night. She was a bit preoccupied with relearning how to breathe to care one way or another.
Her? And a Mudblood? Not just any Mudblood, but the Mudblood? The Mudblood who had been just as much a blight on their cause as Harry Potter, the brat himself? She should as well drive a dagger through her own chest right then and there. And might have done so had she been in possession of such a weapon. But how could she not? What wicked twist of fate was this? How could she possibly fall in love with that creature who was on so low a rung on the ladder of desire that she might as well bed a slug? Not to mention that the Mudblood would rather see her executed by the kiss of a Dementor, would rather cut out her own tongue and feed it to her filthy Muggle parents than ever lavish affection on her.
Perhaps it was the piece of her soul that was truly unhinged. Compared to that Horcrux, she had the mind and possessed the logic of a well renowned Minister of Magic. Or the Supreme Mugwump.
Bellatrix surveyed her surroundings. The night sky with its twinkling stars and pale moon. A thick forest of trees, their leaves trembling in the spring breeze. A dark winding road that was as empty as her heart felt. She had no idea where she was or how she would make it to Malfoy Manor. She was sure of one thing though, in that moment, and of one thing only.
She was going to die.
Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites! They bring such a huge smile to my face you have no idea. So definitely keep the reviews coming. What did you like? What didn't you like? What was your favorite scene, your favorite quote? What had you on the edge of your seat? Or are you just really excited to see what's next to come? Do you have predictions? Speculations? Are you piecing together the subtle clues that I've hidden throughout the chapters? Let me know! It makes writing this story even more enjoyable because I look forward to how you guys are going to react, the suspense is like a cliffhanger. So, until next time my lovelies -bellanoire, over and out!