Author's Note: Good ol' Bella is dedicated to my lovely Quidditch League captain and resident Black expert, Gitana del Sol, who I'm sure will flog me if I got this wrong. :) Also, this is largely influenced by her work "A Court of Three Sisters," which you should read if you haven't yet. This was incredibly difficult to write because Bella's such a complex character, and I am not at all confident about how to write her. The word I've chosen for Bella is betrayal.
Her birth was a betrayal.
No one ever comes right out and says it, and it's taken four years for her to realize it, but Bella sees it plain as day. It's hidden amid Father's incoherent ramblings as he paces, awaiting the birth of his third child. It's in the way his shoulders sag under the levity of awaiting his fate. This is his last chance to get it right.
There were warning signs along the way, but she never noticed. Small things dropped innocently enough into conversation. Carelessly, almost, like it doesn't really matter, even though it does. Things she could have done, should have done, if only...
She was supposed to be a boy; how dare she be a girl.
Father's face drops at the news. He's sired a third daughter. The Black bloodline, as far as his branch is concerned, has been broken. Cygnus Black III has no heirs. He scoops Droma into his arms and forces a smile. He doesn't say it, but Bella knows the truth just the same. It's her fault.
She was born to betray.
...oOo...
"But you can't really go without me," Droma whines, stomping her foot against the concrete.
"You can't come. You're still too little."
Bella busies herself adjusting her trunks just so, hoping Mother or Father will swoop in to save her from the imminent meltdown, but she has no such luck. They've fallen behind, too busy tending to Cissy to pay any mind.
"I am not! I'm nine and a half already."
"You have to be eleven to go to Hogwarts."
"But...but...what about all the things you said we'd do together?"
Droma's lip quivers, and a small twinge of guilt blossoms in Bella's chest. They have always been inseparable, and Bella doesn't want to leave her sister. If she could, she would gladly sneak Droma onto the train with her, and they would share their first year of Hogwarts together, the way they've shared everything else. She has no choice but to leave Droma behind.
"You still have Cissy. Play with her, and you can write to tell me all about it."
"But she's still just a baby."
Droma's face contorts into a mixture of dread and disgust at the idea, and it's all Bella can do not to laugh. But it really isn't a laughing matter. She knows that, as she looks into tear-filled, brown eyes. There's a part of her sister's soul that is breaking, like a clumsy House-Elf that shatters the fine china, something priceless and irreplaceable, and it's all her fault.
"I'll be back at the end of the year. It's not like I'm leaving forever."
Forever. There's that word again, as tears finally spill down Droma's rosy cheeks. Bella had promised that they would be together forever, but even when she said it, she knew it was a lie. Nothing lasts forever, and she always knew that eventually she would have to leave.
It was always meant to end in betrayal.
...oOo...
"I thought you said you were leaving."
Fret lines dig deep into Rodolphus' pale skin as his thin lips pull into a frown.
"I am. Just finishing getting ready."
"Yes, well, haven't you had adequate time? You said the same thing twenty minutes ago."
Bella dismisses Rodolphus' grumbling and pretends she hears nothing as she ambles around the house. She finished getting ready thirty minutes ago, but that doesn't excuse the fact that her husband is clearly rushing her out of the house for some reason or another. Instinct tells her that it has something to do with this "men's business" he so fondly mentions whenever he wants to dismiss her questions, as if that will dissuade her. She refuses to give up so lightly.
"Really, shouldn't you be off now, Bella?"
There's a slight whine of impatience in his tone, and Bella dons a sickly sweet smile as she faces him. He doesn't notice—or perhaps he doesn't care.
"Of course. I'd hate to be an imposition during your meeting today. I'm sure you men have a lot of important business to discuss, so I'll just be off to do my womanly things."
She grabs a handful of Floo powder and makes sure that he can hear loud and clear when she says, "Black Manor."
Green flames rush up to embrace her and carry her swiftly to her destination. When she reaches the other side, Bella brushes away the scattered remnants of soot that cling to her robes as she steps from the fireplace. Droma is sitting there in a large armchair and glances up from her book long enough to acknowledge Bella's presence.
"I wasn't expecting you today," she says as she closes it slowly and rests her hands on the cover.
"Can't I just come visit my dear sisters?"
"Of course, though it's just not like you to show up unannounced. Have you and Rodolphus had another fight already?"
"Merlin no. Not yet, at least."
Bella falls heavily into the armchair across from Droma, melting into the soft cushioning and allowing herself to slouch—just this once, since no one's really looking.
"Although," she continues after a few minutes in silence, twirling a stray black curl around her index finger, "it does seem that I've forgotten my wand."
"Oh?"
Dromeda's eyebrows quirk as a faint smile plays across her lips. Bella smiles back because her sister understands her perfectly; she always has.
"That'll never do, will it? Why, what's a witch without her wand?"
"I suppose you had better go back and get it, then, hadn't you?"
"Yes, I suppose I had."
Bella heaves a sigh as she stands and approaches the fireplace.
"Lovely visit. Do come again, won't you?" Droma says as she returns to her book.
Bella doesn't answer as she steps into the flames, directing them back to her place. By now, everyone will have had time enough to gather. Sure enough, as she steps out, she walks into a congregation of wizards, and a dozen sets of eyes turn to regard her.
"Dear me, I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I meant to be gone today, but it seems I've left my wand, silly twit of a witch that I am."
Rodolphus clenches his jaw against the rage that's clearly brewing in his chest, and it's all Bella can do not to smile triumphantly in return. He thinks himself so clever, denying her access to Lord Voldemort on the premise of being a woman. She had never let that stop her before, and he's a fool if he truly believes it ever would.
"Mrs. Lestrange, I presume? Please, join us."
The voice is smooth and charming with all the reassurance of a lullaby. He's every bit the wonder Bella always imagined he was—and then some.
"If you insist, my lord," Bella says softly, taking her proper place beside her husband. Even though he refuses to look at her, she can feel him seething, like a dark aura is encasing his body, and she hopes the lesson is well-learned on his part.
One betrayal deserves another.
...oOo...
Bella doesn't need to read the letter to know what's happened. They've been betrayed.
The manor is already trashed when she arrives, an honor no doubt bestowed upon Father once he realized what had become of his middle daughter. She could scarcely believe it. Droma of all people. With a Mudblood.
"Bella?"
Cissy's voice is weak and shaky, so unbefitting a Black that it's disgusting. Bella can see it in her eyes, that she was too naïve, too sheltered, unaware that someone she loved could wound her so. Bella turns away from her, because she can't stand to see it. It's the same look Droma had given her on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
"We should go after her. Talk some sense into her. Maybe she's under the influence of some curse. I mean, she's our sister, and I'm sure we could—"
"We have no sister," Bella cuts her off. "She's made her choice."
The rage burns in her gut—sweltering, searing. How dare she. Bella resists the urge to destroy things because it isn't her house, but she wants something else to burn the way she does, to be consumed by the very flames that leave her gasping for air.
She storms down the hall with Cissy trailing in her footsteps. She slams open the door to the study and whips out her wand as she approaches the far wall. With a non-verbal curse, the wand sparks to life with a satisfying bang, and Andromeda's face on the tapestry is reduced to a black, charred hole. It seems like a fitting metaphor for the heavy hole in Bella's heart.
In the end, she's sure that this is somehow her fault.
It was always meant to end in betrayal.
...oOo...
There's someone watching her; she's sure of it.
A tattered, black robe flutters in her peripheral vision, but Bella's learned to ignore them. A chill slithers down her spine, and she whimpers involuntarily.
I won't break.
She hugs herself tightly and pulls her knees to her chest, huddling against the wall as if it can help prevent her body from shaking. It doesn't.
Blacks don't break.
Even so, the cold tightens its grip on her—immense, suffocating. The darkness is inside of her like a thousand ants crawling in her veins, biting, stinging. She claws at her arm, gouging the skin in an attempt to set them free. There are no insects. Instead, long snakes drip slowly out of her, collecting on the stone around her feet. They start to hiss—a low, insidious sound that burrows into her bones and reverberates through every part of her body. It hurts. The more snakes that drip from her, the louder it gets, and the more it tears through her body until every atom is pulsing with pain.
It rises to a crescendo, and she finally understands what the snakes have been saying all along: "Just give in."
"Jusssssst...give..."
No! I won't! It isn't real.
Something in her shatters, and the world is spiraling between reality and fantasy. The lines are so blurred nowadays that she often forgets where she is or who she is. Sometimes reality is the nicer of the two; some days she accepts the fantasy.
In this place, she can trust no one. Even her mind conspires to betray her.
She was born to betray.
...oOo...
She looks so much like Andromeda that a part of Bella weeps.
Fortunately, it's a small part, one that all but withered and died under the watchful eyes of the Dementors.
The Black family tree has been in need of pruning for quite some time now, and Bella fancies herself as good a gardener as any. After all, she got rid of the pesky dog, didn't she? Once this is finished, there will be no more blemishes, and her lord will be proud of her handiwork.
But this is more than that. It's not only for her master's sake that she lets the killing curse slip from her lips. She wants this with every fiber of her being. Her body trembles in anticipation, and when she can no longer contain it, Bella unleashes a cackle.
There's fear in her niece's dark eyes—so much like her mother's. It's glorious, watching the green reflected in them and seeing the life sucked out. Such a marvelous transformation. Such a perfect display.
What is it they say about a mother's intuition? Bella hopes that it's true. She wants Andromeda, wherever she is, to feel the pain of losing her daughter, to have her heart ripped from her chest, to leave behind an oozing, festering wound that will never heal. Bella wants her to rue the day she chose to give up being a Black. Let it be a lesson that Andromeda will never forget.
The crime warrants nothing less; the punishment has been well-earned.
One betrayal deserves another.
...oOo...
Something familiar flashes in the blood-traitor's eyes.
Bella recognizes it, but she doesn't understand it. The memory is hazy, and she isn't entirely sure she hasn't simply dreamt it up.
Still, it reminds her...
No, she has to focus. Bella pushes the thought aside and fires off another curse. She will not be bested by a blood-traitor, and certainly not a Weasley, of all the filth. The other Death Eaters may have fallen. They were weak. But this is her duty to her lord, who is beside her as she is him, and it means everything to her that he trust her with this task. To let him down would be an ultimate betrayal of the faith he has in her ability. She won't allow that to happen.
But those eyes keep drawing her in, and she can't free herself from their prison. They remind her...
...of sky-blue eyes rocking her to sleep.
...of steel-gray eyes teaching her her first spell.
...of sapphire eyes chasing after her, begging to play.
...of brown eyes welcoming her home.
They remind her of something that was stolen somewhere along the way, something she can't remember ever having.
She falters, just for a second, but that's all the time it takes for the spell to hit her chest.
Her eyes search for her master, her lord, one final time. He's noticed her failure, and he fires off spells furiously. Bella sees it in his eyes, a flicker of understanding before the darkness consumes her: she's failed him.
It was always meant to end in betrayal.
...oOo...
He doesn't mourn for her.
In all honesty, she knew he wouldn't. She's foolish, perhaps, but not stupid. Never stupid. He's angry to have lost a pawn, and it's a slight betrayal of her love. The realization hurts, but it doesn't surprise her. It's been a long time coming. After all, one betrayal deserves another.
She loves his power, his freedom, the way he commands his following, and the way he can so easily claim the things he wants. Admirable traits, the lot of them, and she craves them as if they will somehow transfer to her just from being in close proximity. But she does not love the man, has never loved the man.
But now she's dead, and things like love and power seem like foolish concepts to have given her life for. She sees it now, as if a fog has been lifted, but she doesn't necessarily regret it, either. While she doesn't like the person she became, desperately clawing at the heels of the powerful for validation and affection, she understands the road that led her there.
A hooded figure stands before her. When he speaks, his words are drawn out and raspy, like the squeak of a prison door slowly slamming shut.
"Do you fear me?"
No, she wants to say. Of course not. A Black does not fear, is too strong to fear. She isn't weak and refuses to let another man degrade her so. She won't fall, not this time, into such a state. Never again.
No, she wants to say, even though her heart is beating quickly and there's a tightness in her chest, but she finds herself unable to.
She was born to betray, so why won't the words come out? It's just a little, white lie. She's told enough of them by now that it should be second nature.
"Do. You. Fear. Me?"
Her lips expose the truth she tries to hide, but it's really not all that surprising. It was always meant to end in betrayal.
"Yes."
Prompts:
The Quidditch Pitch: (Dialogue) "Just give in."
The Drabble Club: (Creature) Dementor