Bellatrix stormed out of the dim, ancient halls of Malfoy Manor, her thoughts still boiling from the tension. She made her way into the garden and, for the first time in her life, felt a strange relief that Voldemort wasn't nearby, his presence lingering elsewhere in the shadows of the mansion.
She let out a shaky breath and sat on the cold stone bench amidst the darkened flowers and thorny bushes that had grown over the years, twisted yet somehow beautiful—almost like her life, she thought grimly.
Sitting alone, she let her mind wander back to the moment she couldn't seem to shake. Their kiss. She hadn't planned it, hadn't even allowed herself to think it could ever happen, and yet it had, and it had felt as natural as breathing. Her mind replayed the moment over and over, lingering on each flicker of his dark gaze, the way his touch had been firm and electric. It was so unlike the brutal power she knew from him; for a fleeting second, he had been tender. And somehow, that gentleness had shaken her defences more than any spell or hex.
The kiss felt natural, but it was a betrayal, a line she'd never thought she'd cross. What did this mean for her and Rodolphus? For the life she'd built?
What did it mean?
Her hands curled into fists as conflicting emotions swelled in her chest. She was Bellatrix Lestrange, wife to Rodolphus, servant to Voldemort, the perfect follower. She had given up everything to be that. So what was this? This shameful thing she couldn't seem to banish from her mind?
A voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
- Sister? - Narcissa's gentle voice broke the silence. Bellatrix glanced up, feeling suddenly exposed in the daylight as her sister stepped into view, her expression soft but knowing.
- Oh, hi. - Bellatrix murmured, quickly composing herself. - I didn't see you coming.
- Are you all right? - Narcissa's tone was calm but searching. She approached Bellatrix, hands clasped lightly in front of her.
- Yes. - Bellatrix answered with forced brightness. - Did you need something?
- Well, I was just about to start on the Draught of Peace. - Narcissa replied. - Would you keep me company?
Bellatrix hesitated, then nodded.
- Of course. - she said, standing up and brushing off her robes. - Do you still need any ingredients?
- Oh, Bella. - Narcissa teased, a slight smile lifting her lips. - You know I come prepared.
Bellatrix couldn't help but smirk as they walked inside together. For a moment, she felt a touch of calm, a fleeting sense of safety in her sister's quiet presence.
The manor's potion-crafting room was a sanctuary hidden deep within the house, lined with shelves overflowing with every kind of vial, jar, and scroll imaginable. It was a place steeped in tradition and dark craft, where Cissy had often brewed her remedies and where the sisters had spent countless nights before, whispering secrets they couldn't share with anyone else.
As Bellatrix and Narcissa entered, the air felt alive with unspoken words. Narcissa's fingers moved deftly over the ingredients for the Draught of Peace, her gaze focused, her movements fluid and confident. She had always been more patient than Bellatrix with potion-making, able to coax the best out of every ingredient.
- Do you remember those nights we used to spend here? - Narcissa asked softly, grinding a leaf into powder. - When we were young, we thought we could solve the world's problems with a handful of herbs and a few whispered spells.
Bellatrix gave a soft snort, though her expression softened.
- You still believe that, don't you?
- Maybe I do. - Narcissa replied, her smile sad but genuine. - Those were the best moments. The times when it was just us, with no expectations, no one else to please. - She looked over, her eyes glinting with a mix of nostalgia and warmth.
- I remember how we used to pretend to be studying during vocations just to stay away from our parents for a while.
- I think I fell for potions during that summer when we drank the Polyjuice Potion.
- Oh Merlin, I'd forgotten about that. - Bellatrix says with a nostalgic tone. - The potion was flawless, you've always been amazing for that. But our shit acting… Father saw right through us.
- Our acting? I gave my life to be the perfect you! But you were too bossy to be Andromeda.
Andromeda. She hadn't heard her name in years, it was like she was already dead, actually, it was like she never existed. So silence took care of the room for some moments.
- I hate that she betrayed us, we were great together when kids. - Bellatrix says, with a tone that isn't so familiar, it sounds like she is confessing to a crime. - Do you ever think about her?
- Hardly. You?
- It was hard not to in Azkaban. - she takes a deep breath, but her no-longer-sister wouldn't ruin the moment. So she cracks a little joke. - You see, in about five years I had run out of new thoughts.
Narcissa laughs hard. And Bellatrix follows her. That almost made her feel normal again, just there making jokes with her sister.
- I was expecting that you would say you were planning revenge.
- Oh don't get me wrong, I did. - she takes a deep breath. - Not much of a plan just… I hate them too much. I want all of them dead.
They smile. And again silence. Absolute silence for many minutes, Narcissa was beautifully concentrated and Bellatrix was taking a look at some books and ingredients her sister hid there.
- You know what I was thinking? - Cissy breaks the silence with a low voice. - We would always go to a room like this to tell our secrets.
Bellatrix froze. Her heart pounding as she sensed where Narcissa was going.
- That's because it was to closest thing to privacy we had growing up.
- I told you about my first kiss, remember? You told me about your first night with Rodolphus. - Cissy said, again nostalgic. - All those whispered confessions…
The words came before Bellatrix even realized she was speaking.
- I kissed him.
Narcissa stopped, her fingers hovering over a vial, though her expression didn't change much—just a flicker in her gaze, a small nod as if she had already guessed.
- Voldemort? - she asked quietly.
Bellatrix nodded, her cheeks flushing with both shame and longing.
- Yes. - she whispered, feeling as though she were admitting to some unpardonable sin. - And… it didn't feel wrong. I can't stop thinking about it. Narcissa's hands moved once more, gently stirring the concoction.
- He's always been part of you, Bellatrix. More than Rodolphus, more than anyone. - Her voice was even as if accepting something she'd known for a long time. - But where does that leave you? Or Rodolphus?
Bellatrix sighed, running a hand over the workbench, trailing her fingers over the cool, polished wood.
- I don't know, Cissy. I thought I loved Rodolphus… maybe I still do, in some way. But with him, with the Dark Lord…- She trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper. - It's different. I thought that feeling would fade. That after all these years, I could finally… move on.
Narcissa turned fully to face her, placing a gentle hand on her sister's arm.
- But you can't, can you? - She gave a bittersweet smile. - It's always been there, Bellatrix. The way you talk about him, the way you look when he enters the room. It's different… And maybe it's not a matter of choosing one over the other. Maybe it's just who you are.
- He kissed me back, twice. - she could feel the butterflies.
- And you're truly surprised? Everybody knows things are different with you. Didn't you ever ask why?
- It's different, Cissy. He doesn't care…
- I think you don't want to see it. - she interrupted her sister. - Because it might be easier to shut this down than deal with it. But how is this working for you so far?
Bellatrix blinked, emotions tightening in her chest. She had always thought Narcissa would be the last person to understand her feelings for Voldemort, but in her sister's eyes, she saw a depth of acceptance, a love that held no judgment.
- What should I do, Cissy?
- Do you have real feelings for him?
- Since I can remember.
- Do you think is worth it?
Bellatrix knew exactly what Narcissa was talking about. Was it worth it? To get all their bond, which she couldn't name right now, and throw it away? To put Rod into this much pain for nothing?
- I don't have the answer, Cissy.
Narcissa squeezed her arm gently, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
- Whatever you choose, Bella, you'll always be my sister.
A faint smile broke through Bellatrix's sombre expression as Narcissa went back to work, her movements steady and calm. They continued in companionable silence, shifting to reminiscing about their childhood, first loves, and dreams long forgotten. For a while, the world outside the potion room faded, leaving only two sisters, bound by loyalty and love that transcended all else.
That evening, the manor's dimly lit dining hall held a different kind of tension. The long table was set, and familiar faces surrounded it—Rodolphus, Lucius, Narcissa, Bellatrix, and, at the head of the table, Lord Voldemort himself. Discussions began with strategy, with Lucius and Rodolphus carefully outlining the intricacies of their plan to infiltrate the Ministry and retrieve the prophecy Voldemort sought.
Each word spoken sounded like a whisper in Bellatrix's ears as she sat beside Rodolphus, her mind flickering back to the garden, to the potion room, and to Narcissa's comforting words. She forced herself to focus on the task, reminding herself why she was here—her duty, her cause.
She forced herself to focus, listening to each carefully chosen word, but her mind kept returning to her sister's words—to that garden, to the potion room. What did it mean to choose?
But as Voldemort turned to her, his dark eyes penetrating, she felt the familiar rush of devotion, the irresistible pull that had led her here, to this table, to this life. His gaze lingered for a fraction longer than usual, a subtle reminder of their shared moment.
- Bellatrix, - he said in a low, commanding tone. - prepare yourself. Tomorrow, we begin training. Soon enough, you'll be preparing young Draco as well.
Rodolphus's face tightened at the mention of her training with the Lord, his fingers tapping restlessly against the table's edge. She noticed the small
movements, the quiet jealousy that had begun to creep into his gaze, though he said nothing.
And so, the evening ended in silence, as Bellatrix's thoughts returned to her sister's words, the memory of her confession, and the strange, undeniable pull of the Dark Lord's influence over her.
When in her chambers she waited for Rodolphus to come inside. There was no other way than just forgetting about what happened and focusing on her marriage.
That was it, she was confused and needy. Of course, she would seek any kind of affection, though she didn't like admitting it.
She set by the fire with a pretty black cetin nightgown with a scotch in her hands, only to wait for her husband. But even as she waited, doubts lingered. Could she truly ignore what had happened, or would the memory haunt her?