[Chapter Two] Guilty Conscience
"Lena, dear, your denial of all this is simply from your guilt," Bellatrix Lestrange's monotone echoed in the tiny room of the drafty and disinigrating house in Godric's Hollow- almost on the outskirts of the village. A heap of abating embers kept the room hardly any warmer than the persistant rain outside. "You must address this before you drive yourself into delirium."
Lena ignored her distant relative. She didn't want to hear it. She had hoped that somebody, anybody, would have the same hope as she did. But even Narcissa had made reality clear: Lena was to forget about Draco Malfoy.
The girl strolled to the mantle of the fireplace, her fingers skimming against the heated wood of the mantel, a silver ring of entwining snakes with emerald eyes stared back at her. Her brow furrowed in thought, and as usual, when she let the wall in her mind down, even for a second, a flood of built up emotions and images rushed in. Lena pushed them back and slammed the wall up once more, recovering her composure, and turning back to Bellatrix. The woman's iniquitous gaze scanned her carefully; everything Lena said would be reported back to the Dark Lord.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Lena spoke, "I suppose you are right, Lestrange."
Bellatrix nodded, but her eyes still pierced Lena's with discern.
Quickly turning back to the fireplace, Lena hid the rising heat in her face, praying that Bellatrix had not seen. The girl quickly scolded herself; hadn't a month hiatus been enough to gain control of her emotions?
A hand rested on her shoulder. "Don't blame yourself, Lena. The Dark Lord always has a purpose: Do not doubt that."
"Of course, I do not doubt him." Her voice was changing rapidly to a growl, and she struggled to pull herself back, "I cannot live with myself after what I've done."
It was the truth. Why am I telling her this, anyway?
Bellatrix Lestrange would be the last person to understand. Devoted since a young woman to the Dark Lord, she never faltered, never failed, never had love gotten in the way. Though Lena had never felt close to the woman, she was rapidly finding everyone she could trust dying by her own hands, or ostracizing her. At least Bellatrix didn't shun her for crying, criticize her for sleeping in, or not leaving the house. The woman removed her hand from Lena's shoulder as Lena turned to face her.
"I know you came in hopes that I would have some confidential information." Bellatrix paused, searching Lena's eyes for something, her own eyes entirely blank. "I do not."
Lena nodded, feeling that pesky lump in her throat swell up once more, heading toward the front door.
"Do not let their sacrifices go on in vain, crying about it won't change what happened. What you did."