Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Challenges listed at the bottom.
Word Count - 1075
Warnings - Familial and Spousal Abuse. Brief, unspecific mentions of dubcon.
A Hurtful Hand (A Gentle Touch)
She was eight years old when she first learnt to fear the hand of a man. Her father, smelling strongly of alcohol, slapped her around the face for daring to read a book about muggles. He snatched the book away from her, leaving blood to pour from her finger when the edge of the page sliced her skin.
That was the first time her father hit her. It certainly wasn't the last.
Bellatrix was the oldest of the children in the house, the one with the expectation piled on her thin shoulders. Andromeda tried to comfort her, but she was naught but a baby, too young to truly understand what Bellatrix was being forced to deal with.
"You are not to blame," her mother insisted, as she healed bruises and welts. "Your father is under a lot of pressure at the moment. He loves you, and he's very sorry."
Bellatrix hummed non-committedly, because no matter what her mother said, apologies had never once fallen from her father's lips.
Bellatrix bore the abuse because there was little she could do to stop it. Not only was she a child, but she was a pureblood. She could not stand up to her father, it simply wasn't done.
All she could do was try and stem the tears threatening to fall and hold her pain inside.
…
When Bellatrix went to Hogwarts, she thought herself free. Of course, she guarded herself carefully, but it didn't take long for those in the other houses to realise that it would be safer for all of them to leave her alone.
She had learnt many a curse in her young life, and she wasn't afraid of detention or the loss of points if it meant defending herself.
As she grew, as the others in her years grew, the touches started. While the other houses knew not to mess with Bellatrix Black, those in Slytherin thought themselves above it. In house, the rules were different, and the men in the common room ruled them.
Purebloods to the very last, they all knew that women had no right to fight against the hand of a man; no matter what that hand was doing.
And so, as she had in her childhood, Bellatrix bore the touches, gentler than those of her father but no less unwelcome, with a straight back and no tears because that was who she was.
It was who she'd been brought up to be.
…
"I promise, I won't be like your father. I'll take care of you."
When Bellatrix learnt that she was betrothed to the oldest of the Lestrange sons, she was ambivalent. She'd always known that she would be betrothed, always known that she'd be allowed no opinion on her future husband.
As the two danced, he whispered the words in her ear, and Bellatrix felt safe for the first time with a man's hands on her.
She should have known he was lying.
Rodolphus was easily angered. He had a hair trigger temper and alcohol only inflated that. It added fuel to an already burning fire, and it was only months into their marriage that Bella bore bruises born from his hands.
He was apologetic the following day, and she wore an emerald around her neck that was proof of his apology, but it didn't stop it from happening again.
After the first time, she hadn't expected it to. She'd known as soon as his skin touched hers with anything other than gentleness that guarding herself had been the right thing to do. She'd known that she'd been stupid to let that guard fall.
"You told me a lie, Rodolphus," she whispered to him one night, as she carefully cleaned the blood from her face. "You told me I could trust you. That you wouldn't hurt me."
Rodolphus scoffed, taking a large gulp from his glass. "It's like you said; you can't trust anyone."
Bellatrix nodded. She wasn't even angry. Rodolphus was a man, and hurting women was what men did.
…
The Dark Lord was mesmerising in a way that Bellatrix had never known before. He frightened her, of course he did, his power was immense, but she was in awe of him all the same.
Bellatrix, the headstrong woman that promised herself that she would never allow another man to harm her, fell at his feet whenever he called for her.
Because the thing was, The Dark Lord had never once laid an angry hand on her. Oh he tortured her, made her beg him for mercy, but he did that with his wand. The times he touched her, it was gentle, a hand on her hair or her cheek as a reward for good service.
Occasionally, his hand would rest on the base of her spine as they apparated into a village to cause chaos and destruction, and once, he'd let her sit by his legs, his hands threading through her unruly curls.
Every time his skin touched hers, it was with care. With tenderness.
Where she'd felt trapped with every other man in her life, with the Dark Lord, she stayed willingly at his beck and call, because he showed her kindness in a way no other man ever had before.
…
She sat in her cell, her robes pulled tight around her, trying to beat the chill in the air. It didn't work, but she didn't give up, wasn't willing to admit defeat. She didn't care for her imprisonment, not really.
She'd be released when the time came, because The Dark Lord would return and he would free her and he would stroke her face and thank her for her loyalty.
Rodolphus was in the cell across from her, and when the Dementors came, he screamed out her name in agony. When the Dementors left, he'd struggle to the front of his cell, his arm stretching across the corridor for her.
"Bella, I'm sorry."
She stayed on her stone bed, her eyes on the outside, barely visible through the bars. She ignored Rodolphus, because she had listened to his words once before and it had left her bruised.
She would wait, and he would come, and she would be by his side while they reigned down destruction on the masses, vengeance for their time apart.
"Bella, please. Please, I'm sorry, I'll never do it again."
Bellatrix felt her lips tilting up. "You're right," she whispered into the night air. "You won't."
Written for;
Character Appreciation - 3. Book
Disney - D3. "You told me a lie, [name]. You told me I could trust you." / "It's like you said; you can't trust anyone."
Dark Lady - 15. Pureblood Tradition
Book Club - [The Queen] - Release / "You are not to blame." / Being trapped / Vengeful.
Showtime - 2. Frightened
Angel's Arcade - [Knuckles] - Guarding something / Emerald / Headstrong
Leafpile - Kissing
Auction - Slytherin