Chapter 52: The (Near) Death Experience, Part 3


Darkness...

Stillness...

Faraway whispers...

'He is dead... you are safe... you'll be fine... he is dead... you'll be fine... you are safe...'

More sensation than words...

With no voice, no language, no meaning...

Who were those whispers?..

What were those whispers?..


Darkness wobbled and twisted

Darkness was awake and alive... and it itched!

How could it itch?!..

'You are safe…'

Whispers held meaning

Whispers were lies

She was never safe

The warmth around her, the steady thump against her back, the tickle of hair not her own on her face...

The odd impressions disappeared quickly

Fantasy?..

Madness?..

Legilimency trap?..

Who would dare?..

Who would risk their mind to trick her like that?..

'You'll be fine... You are safe…'

Childish... pointless... sentiments!..

'He is dead…'

He was dead...

HE was dead?!..

Who were those whispers?!..

She'd destroy them for spreading dirty lies...

HE wasn't dead

HE couldn't be dead

But... who was HE?

And who was she?..

The whispers gave no names

The whispers were just whispers

Darkness wobbled and twisted looking for answers...

Whispers silenced by the echoes of the past...

'What have you done to yourself, Miss Black?!'

'I won't interfere, Bella... I want to see what you are capable off...'

Darkness whirled faster...

'Bella, just lie... please just lie... they saw you fighting... just say you were protecting the Longbottoms... Longbottoms can't dispute... and Father will arrange for the rest... please, Bella... just lie...'

'Where is your lord now, Lestrange?'

'You need to feed her if you want her alive.'

Echoes turned into memories...

'Harry Potter is dead...'

'Miss Granger is doing you a huge favor, Bella...'

HE was her Master...

And HE had been dead for awhile...

Whatever she was... wherever she was... shuddered and crackled at the strength of her despair

Darkness was no longer simply darkness...

Darkness turned into shadows...

And shadows were blindingly painful...


Too painful


Even more so... it squeezed her in a way it hadn't before...

The end had to be close...


More whispers...

Barely heard over the agony the darkness let through...

Another reprieve wasn't coming

There was nothing to do but to exist... and to listen...

'You care about the dark witch…'

'I don't…'

Whispers still had no names... but they had voices now...

And the voices were familiar...

'You care… I don't… ..care… don't… don't…'

A pang at the denial, a pinch, an itch… well above the constant pain of the shadows

Was she being tortured?

Didn't they know torture worked best when one was fully aware?..


The pain was still there, an ache rather than agony...

It eased enough to let the thoughts through...

There was no strength to think, to analyze, to plot

Instead she thought of dragon kisses, and of not-a-Troll-like hugs...

And she was careful to avoid the fact that those things were not real...

That the girl stood and watched...

She didn't run and she didn't kill

She stood, and she watched


'What is the most Unforgivable of acts, Bellatrix?'

Father had loads of philosophical questions for her lately. Perhaps something to do with her starting school this year and being away from home a lot.

She grinned. She knew the answer. There was an article in the morning Paper, about the trial which ended with the Dementor Kiss. She only got permission to read Paper in its entirety recently and did that faithfully so far. Even if most of it was boring.

'Killing, Father?'

'No, Bella, killings are quite forgivable... given a reason . Betrayal is not. Betrayal is the most Unforgivable of acts. Forgiving the act makes one worthy of it. Do you understand?'

She didn't entirely. The article said killing, torture, and mind control were the worst. But father was father. And betrayal did sound pretty bad...

She was roused from the dream by a voice which was much louder than a whisper.


'..sorry so sorry… you almost died because of me… again… I didn't think my mind could withstand much more…'

The burning warmth…

The unpleasant chill…

Narcissa's tears.

Died again?..

Surely she wasn't still lamenting the events at the hospital... Bellatrix wasn't her responsibility... She helped and that was enough.

'..wards… ..didn't stop him…..why didn't they… I don't understand…'

A pang of worry…

Narcissa wasn't going to be the only one to ask about wards.

'..cut his head off…'

That sounded pretty final…

Hopefully Narcissa was talking about Rabastan's head...

'..Hermione... ..she cares about you… ..you must treat her better, Bella… ..make an effort… ..you're able when you wish to...'

The same unpleasant itch inside her mind

No Cissy, Hermione didn't care

Bellatrix was a duty…

A thing, to annoy others with…

Nothing but a tool…

Always just a tool…

Narcissa's tears burned.

Narcissa's tears were care.

For how much longer…

Andromeda would talk… No no she wouldn't dare... She still had a grandchild... She wouldn't risk it, even if she believed her daughter's death was not by design...

'..you were right… wasn't safe… the elves let them in… hid them… from aurors... from me... you were sick… Rab was dead…estate forfeited… the creatures appeared and asked to stay and I let them. I was so foolish! He must have commanded them from the start…'

Filthy creatures…

She was the last Lestrange.

They'd all die…

She'd order them to die…

Slowly

Painfully

The images of what that might look like started to form, drowning... or burning... or skinning... or-

'..he raped me…'

Stillness...

And rage

Her little sister, her responsibility, her doing

'..Thorfinn wanted to do something but he stopped him and then he must have… Rab must have…'

Rab?!

'..I woke up and… my clothing was gone... oh Bella… what am I to do… what do I tell Lucius… it's all my fault…'

Narcissa made no sense

Rabastan's animosity towards Narcissa started and ended with Bellatrix. And while she would not have put it past him to kill Cissa while she watched, rape was hardly on his list of activities.

Narcissa sounded so distressed...

A strain to pull through the confines of her mind.

A flicker of light.

The silkiness of material under her hand.

A press of head on her stomach

Then nothing.

No pain

No sound

She knew better.


'So, I've been looking for a way to communicate with you… apparently Legilimency is out of the question… the healer forbade it…'

At least someone used brains...

'..almost bit my head off at the suggestion... I swear she hates me... the danger of being stuck at yours is too great…'

Among other things!

'The healer advised us to talk and to read to you. To encourage you into wakefulness'

More like to annoy into wakefulness…

'Found something curious though…while readying up on mind magics... Veritafictumency… remember the mind magic you told me to stay away from?..'

Brilliant, Bella!.. couldn't have given the girl some ordinary old book, could you?.. just had to show off!

'..from latin veritas - truth, fictum - feigned, mens - mind… the magic of splitting one's mind into true and false selves. When called upon, the False self of the accomplished practitioner circumvents magical contracts, bindings, wards, and negates truth potions… So was Rabastan this verita- ficta-men…? Is that how he avoided the wards?..'

On the other hand...

That wasn't a bad explanation…

'No comment… hm… let's read some more…'

Let's not...

'..the practice is treacherous…and should be avoided… wonder if that ever stopped you before?..'

Hm...

'..bad outcomes most often are debilitating in nature… ..failures result in loss of memories, senses, and reasoning abilities… Sounds familiar?'

Not at all...

'..once the mind is damaged, the symptoms may be called forth by circumstance which caused the damage in the first place… So… are you this verita-ficta-men, too?.. Only a faulty one?..'

She didn't have to listen to this.

'You know you cannot avoid the reality forever?'

Could try...

But she knew better.

The words made sentences.

Sentences made sense.

Memories had names, and dates, and histories behind them...

She smelled the drink the girl brought with her, and she felt the softness of the blankets under her palms...

The shadows in front of her eyes turned into shapes, which even spotted colors...

She could get up if she wished...

But she would not, not until she absolutely had to...


Door clicked open.

Sleepy eyes blinked back closed.

Warmth surrounded her hand.

The warmth squeezed it carefully.

She waited to learn the identity of the visitor.

'The healer said you should be awake. Yesterday. Are you?'

The girl.

The mattress dipped. Something bumped into her leg and stayed there resting against it. The fingers intertwined with hers.

Something flipped in her chest, in her stomach, as if she was flying too fast too high... making her nauseous. Her mind stilled as if her Lord himself was taking a stroll in it.

'Harry and the Minister will be here to interview you in a few hours.'

Good luck with that.

The presence shifted and rearranged itself.

A deep sigh.

'What are you afraid of? It is alright to wake, Bellatrix.'

The girl was smart; playing to her pride; distracting her with the touches.

Too bad after the years of Azkaban and with her Lord she was immune to childish digs.

And touches... she didn't care for those... and certainly not from a m- from anyone.

A brush of warmth ran along her hairline, through her hair, over her cheek...

A tiny breeze on her face…

What the-

The warmth and the wetness on her lips

What the bloody-


Wide blacks stared into exasperated browns.

'Ah... The miracle of a true love's kiss' Hermione drawled as she leaned back.

Dark eyes flashed.

A hand shot out and grabbed at Hermione's t-shirt.

Bellatrix's grip was weak. The younger witch could have gotten out of the hold easily, but she didn't.

Their lips touched...


End of Chapter 52