I didn't mention this before—for the record, I don't own Harry Potter. Not that any of you think I did. But just for the record.

"Where are you going? The party's that way."

I couldn't believe that I was stopped before I even got all the way down the staircase. Of course, the little prick couldn't mind his own business. "Get out of my way, Sirius," I said, shoving him against the banner.

"Are you skipping the party?" he asked.

"It's none of your business," I said. I just wanted to get out of the house. The idea of sitting at that table while Mother and Father showed off our status to the best of best was almost more than I could bear at the moment. It would be the same scene I had witnessed since I was even younger than Sirius; Mother and the ladies tittering about high society over tea; Father and the men drinking too much fire whiskey, getting loud, and reliving their glory days at Hogwarts; Rodolphus and Rabastan picking on the rest of us children; Lucius and Narcissa being complete ninnies to each other; and Andromeda and I left the only sane ones.

"You are, aren't you?" he gasped incredulously.

"Be quiet or I'll hex you," I said.

"You will not," he argued.

"I'm of age," I reminded him, "so I can do magic whenever I please. I know some pretty nasty curses, so you'd do well to help Dromeda and Cissy cover for me."

Sirius frowned. "I'm telling."

"Tell and I'll avada-kedavra you," I warned.

That really scared him. "Okay," he agreed. "I won't tell." For a moment, I almost felt bad. Sirius obviously knew what avada kedavra meant, though I wasn't sure how, and really believed I'd do it. I'd never use an Unforgivable Curse, especially not on my little cousin, no matter how odd he might be. But then he added, "But you must let me come with you. Tell me where you're going and let me come."

"I'm going to the woods," I said. "And you can't come. You're too young."

"Sirius!" a voice called from the other room. It was Mrs. Lestrange. "Sirius, darling, you must come here! I'm simply dying to meet you!"

I heard Mrs. Lestrange's high-heeled footsteps on our old hardwood floors and bolted out the back door before Sirius had a chance to follow me, or Mrs. Lestrange had a chance to see me.

I knew I was being stupid and dramatic, but I didn't care. I was in my final year at Hogwarts and the idea of life after school was daunting. I wanted a career; I was good at my schoolwork, particularly Charms, but I was a woman, and what's more, a woman of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. My family believed in the traditional ideals. All I was good for was to make a pureblood marriage and have children to carry on the high class of wizards. I wasn't opposed to that, necessarily, but I would have liked more. Was that so wrong? It was nearly 1970. Even the Muggles had progressed.

I took off for the woods behind our manor, my skirt snagging on a loose branch in my hurry. I yanked it loose and it scraped a hole across my tights. Well, there was already a run in them. I carried on.

"Why hello there."

The voice was soft and deep, decidedly male. What kind of a guy hangs out in the woods? I wondered briefly, but curiosity won out and I turned around, knowing I could reach for my wand if I felt threatened. I was a decently accomplished duelist.

He was tall and handsome, despite being a little too thin and looking rather sullen. He had dark hair and eyes that seemed to stare through to your soul. I found myself attracted to him, although I knew that I shouldn't be—he was probably twenty years older than me; there was at least one pureblood boy with a crush on me sitting in my dining hall not fifty feet from where we stood; I knew nothing about him; and of course, he was hanging out in the woods, which was odd to say the least. And despite all of that, or maybe because of it, I wanted to get to know him.

"Hi."

Dun. Dun. Dun. Please review. I'd like a little feedback. I feel like I'm having a hard time capturing Bellatrix's voice/emotions. Because on one hand she has to be the Bellatrix that is a straight up evil witch we see in the books and movies (torturer of the Longbottoms, killer of Sirius Black, etc., etc.), but on the other hand she can't have always been that way, right? Imagining her as a teenager is harder than I originally anticipated.