CHAPTER 43

"Don't hesitate to send for help if something goes wrong," McGonagall tells me. "If she tries to harm you in any way"—I don't have the heart to tell her that Bellatrix seems genuinely pleased with the idea of spending the Christmas holiday with me and would probably never harm me for that very reason—"someone will help you escape. Understood?"

I nod. "Yes, Professor." Though I really doubt anyone would be able to save me from my mother if something changed and she did decide to hurt me. "I swear I'll send for help if I need it." McGonagall still seems uncomfortable with my holiday arrangement, which seems entirely reasonable given the Longbottom incident. She probably fears a repeat of it, and that is something someone can only go through once.

"Take care of yourself," she says.

I nod again before leaving her office to catch the Hogwarts Express. I cast the Disillusionment Charm over myself and my rucksack, the only bag I packed for the break, before boarding the train behind a large group of Ravenclaw students. I slide past the compartment with the first-years, as well as the compartment with Astoria, Daphne, and Grant, and wait awkwardly at the back of the train, where I stay until it has left behind the protective enchantments around Hogwarts. Then I Disapparate.

Bellatrix's room in the basement of Malfoy Manor looks no different than the last time I saw it, except for two things: Narcissa is sitting on the sofa, and Bellatrix is pacing back and forth. Or at least it looks like she was pacing until she heard the sound of my Apparition. Now she's paused mid-stride and is watching me carefully. Then a smile comes across her face, and without a word, she comes toward me and pulls me into her arms, resting her chin atop my head. Feeling like a small child, I wrap my arms around her and squeeze, not tightly enough to hurt or annoy her but tightly enough to try to convey to her my joy at being with her again, at being with my mother.

We stay that for a moment before she pulls back enough to look down in my face, her eyes searching for something. Then she presses a kiss to my forehead and moves toward a bag sitting on the foot of her bed. Narcissa comes toward me and pulls me into her arms as well. "If you ever set foot in my home again without letting me know—" I laugh and begin apologizing; her voice lowers to a whisper when she says, directly into my ear, "I don't think she'll hurt you, but if at any point you feel unsafe, use the necklace I gave you, and I'll be there in seconds." She pulls away from me and gives me a meaningful look, a promise.

"Thank you, Aunt Cissy."

She smiles and steps back from me. Bellatrix takes my arm and Disapparates with me. When I open my eyes, my mother and I are standing in a snow-covered forest, nothing around us but miles of trees and pure white snow. "Some warning about the cold would have been nice," I comment sheepishly. She glances at me. "Did you bring me out here to kill me?"

"Aurelia."

"Joking. But where are we?" A slight panic begins to rise in me. She didn't actually bring me out here to kill me, surely, and yet the idea of being out here alone with her alarms me because no one would hear a fight out here. No one could hear her Cruciate you.

"You need to trust me."

"All right, but that still doesn't answer—"

"The Lestrange Cottage can be found in the Craik Forest of Scotland."

A small stone and wooden cottage, one-story tall with a garden of dead flowers covered in snow and a small stone path to the front door, appears in front of me, no more than twenty feet away.

"The Fidelius Charm," my mother informs me. "No one besides Cissy, Rodolphus, myself, and now you know where this is. Well, your father's brother knows as well, but he never came here. It was built shortly after your father and I married. I intended to have you sent here for your safety, but Cissy convinced me that sending you to our blood traitor uncle was the better choice. We thought no one would look for you there, whereas they would assume that your father and I had a place hidden somewhere and would do whatever it took to find it." Meaning the Dark Lord could possibly have gotten the information out of her. Possibly already did. She meets my eyes. "And look where that got me. Now it's not used at all. No one will search for us here."

I follow her forward, still slightly worried about this whole arrangement. Just the thought of being somewhere that is unknown to anyone besides Death Eaters sends shivers down my spine. So much for McGonagall sending someone to rescue me if necessary. But I have to trust that Bellatrix truly wants me here and therefore will not harm me. I want to believe that Bellatrix will not hurt me. But still . . . only Death Eaters know about this place. That doesn't bode well for my safety should my mother lose her patience with me. So don't antagonize her. And call for Narcissa at the first sign of trouble.

I step into the cottage.

The floors are hardwood, the walls made of stone. By the fire, resting atop a rug with the Slytherin emblem etched in silver and green, are two black armchairs and a black sofa. Slytherin green accents the furniture. I follow my mother to the other three rooms. One is a medium-sized kitchen that has clearly rarely been used, if ever; one is a room with a twin-sized bed (Slytherin green and silver, of course); the last is a white and black room with a bed almost the size of Draco's at Malfoy Manor. I drop my rucksack in the larger room, claiming it for myself.

"You were meant to grow up visiting this place often," Bellatrix says quietly as we make our way to the living room.

I glance over at the hearth and imagine what life might have been for a little Aurelia Celaeno Lestrange, sitting by a roaring fire with her parents, playing games with her parents, being loved by her parents, having someone there for her no matter what, whether she had a nightmare or was hungry or just wanted to be held. "I think I would've liked that," I say softly, a deep longing pressing down on my chest.

Bellatrix smiles at me, and an odd pride swells in me. I've made my mother smile. Tears sting my eyes. This is all I've ever wanted, just spending time with my mother. I drink in the sight of her, someone who shares my blood, someone who passed down her genes to me, someone I look so much like. She's my mother. My heart aches, and I quickly wrap my arms around her. She makes a small noise of surprise before holding me tightly. "Aurelia, are you all right?"

I swallow down the lump in my throat and choke out, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." I force myself to release her. "It's just . . . imagining what my life could have been . . ." I shake my head and impatiently wipe my eyes. "Doesn't matter, it's the past."

Bellatrix watches me sadly. "I firmly believe that had we been able to keep you, you would not fear your duty as you do."

"Is it really that bad that I fear it?" I whisper.

"Yes."

I don't want to talk about this anymore because it will no doubt lead to an argument, so instead I change the subject entirely. "A fire would be nice, wouldn't it?"

She takes my cue and waves her wand, and the fire starts crackling immediately. I go over and sit down on the sofa in front of it, Bellatrix following moments after. "Does the Dark Lord know where this is?" I ask casually.

"Of course he does!" she exclaims, almost sounding offended. "I keep absolutely nothing from him!"

"So, even if I had grown up here, I wouldn't have been safe, right?" Stop, Charlotte, don't do this. Don't pick this fight. "After all, he's the one who was after me, not some random Death Eaters or Order members."

Her nostrils flare angrily. Then she takes a slow breath. "I want this to work, Aurelia. You are my daughter. I want to be a mother to you, a mother you have been without for so many years."

You shouldn't have said that, Charlotte. Bellatrix waves her wand again, and into the room fly two bottles, which she opens. I accept one, take a swig, and almost choke with surprise to discover it's a bottle firewhiskey. "Could've warned me," I say.

She watches me for a moment, not even attempting to drink the firewhiskey, her eyes full of wonder and a hint of hope. "How's Hogwarts these days?" she finally asks.

I'm taken aback. "You're asking me about school?"

"You've only mentioned coursework, nothing else."

"It's . . . well, it's Hogwarts. Dumbledore's in charge; the students respect him for the most part. . . . Most of us hate Snape"—she smirks at that—"most of us respect McGonagall. Flitwick is as short as ever—" She barks out a laugh. "What's Azkaban like?"

Her laughter dies immediately, and she takes a large swig of her drink. Then she says very quietly, "Cold and lonely. Most people go insane within weeks."

"But you survived for nearly fifteen years."

"On an obsession."

"What obsession?"

"That the Dark Lord would return and reward me for my loyalty."

"And that's why you don't trust Snape? Because he didn't go to Azkaban?"

"Yes. He wasn't willing to go to Azkaban for the Dark Lord. Why is he willing to do anything for him now?"

I put my drink to my mouth and gulp some of it down. "If you could go back, would you choose the Death Eater path?"

"Every time."

"Over a life with me as your daughter?"

"I have a life with you now," she says.

"Not the same way it would have been had Voldemort not influenced you."

"Do not use the Dark Lord's name!"

I raise my hands. "Sorry, sorry. It's a habit."

"Never use his name."

"But if I am to have his child, I should be allowed to call him by his name."

"You must never use his name."

"Calm down, Bellatrix," I say. "I'm just saying that if I'm forced to have his demon offspring—"

"Do not demean the honor you have been given!"

Something in me snaps, and I hiss back at her, "How many times must I tell you that it is not an honor! He's taken everything from me!" So much for not starting this argument.

"With what he's given to you, what can you possibly be upset about?" she whispers hysterically. "What was so important to you that you are blind to the honor he has bestowed upon you?"

"VOLDEMORT TOOK MY MUM FROM ME!"

She pauses. "But he freed me, Aurelia. Why can't you see that? He gave me another chance to be with you!"

"You're not the mum I'm speaking of!"

Bellatrix shrinks back down as if I've taken a burning iron to her flesh, and for the first time since we've met, I see real pain in her eyes. "Who?"

"The caretaker at the orphanage I was forced to live in thanks to your precious Master! She's the only mum I've ever had, and that bastard took her from me!"

"THE—"

I shout loudly for her to stop, to cut her off, then get up and storm away from her, straight to the larger bed and snatch up my bag. I try to Disapparate and, when finding it impossible, slam the door shut with all of my might—the wall seems to shake—and lie down. I move no more.

A dark figure sits on the edge of the bed when I wake up that next morning, and before any logical thought can cross my mind, I shriek, my heart rate quickening, and scramble away from whatever sits there—miscalculating how large the bed is, I tumble off the bed and land on the floor on my knees. Coughing through the pain, I whip out my wand to protect myself against the assailant.

"Aurelia!"

My heart slows when Bellatrix's arms wrap around me and haul me to my feet. "What are you doing?" I ask, struggling out of her grip. "Don't sneak up on me like that. Fuck." I crawl back onto the bed and cover my now icy legs with the sheets, then pull my knees to my chest in an attempt to shield myself from her.

She clears her throat, then sits back down on the very edge of the bed. "I've been thinking," she whispers. It's now that I notice her eyes are red. "I've already lost you twice, haven't I?"

"What?"

"Before you began Hogwarts this year, I told you that I feared losing you twice, that I couldn't go through that again, but it's already happened, hasn't it?" she says. "I'm not really your mum, and I never will be." Bellatrix stands up and goes to the door. "I've lifted the Anti-Disapparation Jinx. You're free to go." Then she leaves the room.

I find myself staring at the bedpost. It's nothing special, just iron, but I can't tear my eyes away from it for nearly ten minutes.

Had Bellatrix been crying about me? Me?

She's my mother.

She's my mother.

I just have to give her a chance. I owe it to myself and her to do everything I can to make this work.

I crawl down to my rucksack on the floor at the foot of the bed. Though I had tried to make Draco take the Elixir to Induce Euphoria with him, he had insisted I bring it with me. I had been so frustrated with him before leaving Hogwarts but am now actually quite thankful that he was so stubborn. The vial in hand, I leave the room and snatch up the two bottles of firewhiskey by the still-smoking embers, at which point I pour some of the potion into each of them. Then I stash the vial back into my bag before checking the other room for Bellatrix.

She's not there.

I search the small cottage once before realizing that she probably already left. And can I really blame her? Fighting down the growing disappointment in my chest, I make my way to the room I had stayed in last night, but through the window, my eye catches sight of a figure standing outside, their back to the cottage. I crack the front door open to watch Bellatrix for a moment, her arms crossed over her chest, her face turned toward the sky, not making any attempt to stop or wipe off the snowflakes that are undoubtedly landing on her face. Her body shivers slightly.

Fighting back my relieved smile, I start walking toward her—at the sound of my footsteps crunching in the snow, she turns around. "You haven't left yet."

"Neither have you," I say. "Why are you out here? It's freezing."

"I couldn't bear to hear the 'pop' of your Disapparation."

I take a few more steps toward her, but she doesn't move. "When I couldn't find you, I thought you'd left."

"The Dark Lord allowed me to bring you here for the sake of preparing you to face your duty. If I were to come back early, I believe we would both be punished quite severely."

I glance away. "So you stayed to protect yourself then?" Not because she was hoping I would decide to give it another chance.

Bellatrix takes a step closer to me but stops midstride. "I stayed to protect you. I've been punished by the Dark Lord but you"—she shakes her head—"you need never go through that."

My fingers tap against my thigh. "I'm never going to believe that my duty is an honor. Regardless of what anyone says or does, I will always view it as a curse." I swallow and meet her sad eyes. "And for that, I am sorry. Truly. I wish this wasn't between us, but it is. I had no one in my life to teach me that it was an honor, but I've had plenty of people who have tried to keep me away from it, and so it's engraved onto my soul that it is a curse. And I'm positive it will remain that way until the day I die." Bellatrix looks defiant, almost like she still believes she will change my mind about this whole business. Without saying a word, I step closer to her and put my arms around her and bury my face into her shoulder. "I fear it," I whisper.

Though she seems uncertain while wrapping her arms around me, once she finally does, she pulls me tightly against her. "I know you do, and I don't blame you for being fearful because had it not been for Rodolphus, I'm unsure I would've had the courage to take the Dark Mark as early as I did."

I pull away from her. "So you did love him at one point?"

Bellatrix nods sadly before saying, "Why don't we go inside?"

She leads me back into the cottage, her hand on my back. We don't stop in the small living area but rather continue into the kitchen. "You know how to cook something besides eggs?"

A weak smile comes to her lips. "Just because I've had house-elves all of my life does not mean I am incapable of caring for myself. My mother taught me when I was young."

I walk over to the counter, boost myself up on it, and take a seat. "It's a shame I didn't get a chance to learn how to cook from you. If I were to live on my own, I'm afraid I would die of starvation."

"I heard that you were forced to cook for Snape when you were living with him over the holidays. Am I to believe you learned nothing during your time there?"

I laugh. "Are you serious? I wasn't going to cook for him! I stole the food from his neighbor, who, by the way, was a fantastic chef." I click my tongue. "Well, I did sort of cook some stuff but did catch the kitchen on fire so I'm not sure I can really count my holiday with Snape as a good example of my cooking abilities."

A grin tugs at her lips. "You set Snape's kitchen on fire?"

"Aunt Cissy didn't tell you? She caught us arguing after the fact."

"She failed to mention anything about it."

My eyes dance over what she is preparing. "What're you making?"

"Strawberry tarts, my specialty."

"Brilliant."

Bellatrix leans against the opposite counter while the food continues to prepare itself. "I used to make these almost every week for your father," she says.

"I feel like I missed out."

"You've had them before. Rodolphus used to give you some. He'd hold you in his lap and feed you tiny spoonfuls of the strawberry sauce, regardless of how many times I told him that you shouldn't be eating it at your young age."

"I wish I could've grown up with the two of you," I say.

"As do I. And I'm sure he'd say the same."

We both quiet down, and I wait a few moments before asking, "What happened to the two of you—you and Rodolphus? You once loved him, but you seem to be less than apathetic about him now."

She looks back at the tarts, which are making themselves. "We were both grieving—quite horrifically, if I might say so myself—over you. Neither of us had the strength to speak. And soon, silence was the only thing that filled the house. We didn't know what to talk about anymore, and neither of us wanted to express our sorrow.

"For the ninth months of my pregnancy, you were all we talked about. For the year we had you, you can imagine that almost all of our conversations were about you. For the nearly six months you were with Alphard, we focused on when we would get you back. It was too painful to talk about you when we believed you to be dead. And when we could no longer talk about you, we realized there wasn't much more we could talk about.

"Our grief soon turned to anger, then bitterness. We blamed each other for your death. After one of our particularly vile screaming matches, I packed my things and moved in with Cissy and Lucius and little Draco. It was ideal. I was able to help with the baby, which relieved some of my ache over you. Then the Dark Lord disappeared and the Longbottoms happened"—what a generous way to refer to that tragedy, almost like she doesn't believe it was horrific—"and Azkaban became my new home . . . or rather, place of residency. I wouldn't consider that hellhole a home."

"But before that. Before me, before my death, before the Dark Lord. Weren't you the least bit happy?"

She watches me closely. "Yes. We were madly in love from my sixth year until just after we took the Dark Mark."

"When you fell in love with Vol—the Dark Lord?"

Bellatrix dodges the question entirely. "We were always good friends, your father and I. The Death Eaters all sort of gravitated toward one another long before we were even sure about becoming Death Eaters."

Though Andromeda has already told me this, it's best that Bellatrix never know about that visit, so I ask, "Was there a particular reason I was named Marcus Aurelius rather than a star?"

She nods. "Marcus Aurelius was an ancestor of Salazar Slytherin, a philosopher. Rodolphus and I bonded over him during our fifth year." A small smile plays at the corner of her lips. "Have you heard of him?"

An image of Zoe flashes into my mind. "Yes, I have actually. A friend of mine enjoys him very much, so much so that she even had me read his book."

This is the happiest I think I have ever seen my mother, and if I could but bottle this feeling in my chest, this joy . . . my life would be complete if this moment now froze forever and never changed. "Your father proposed to me using a quote from Marcus Aurelius."

"Do you remember which one it was?" Andromeda couldn't answer that, and it's something I need to know—what my parents were like, how they felt for one another, where I came from. I need to know more about Bellatrix's past with Rodolphus.

Bellatrix waves her wand at the tarts, and they place themselves onto a pan and into the oven. "Of course I remember." But she doesn't seem willing to talk about it.

I push harder. "Would you mind sharing it with me?"

My mother clears her throat uncomfortably. "Your father and I wrote letters to one another during the holidays when we could not see one another. It was a joke of sorts—I say it was a joke, but I guess it was more of a tradition or habit—that we would always sign off with a quote from Aurelius." Again, Zoe comes to mind, and I find myself really looking forward to telling her everything Bellatrix just shared, but I push that down for now. "He asked to meet me at the Lestrange Estate, and at the end this invitation, there was no quote."

"And it made you curious?"

She nods. "It was the first thing I inquired about when I got there. Not that the quotes meant that much to me—it was more of a 'why didn't he do it that time?' sort of thing."

"Am I to assume he gave a good answer as to why he failed at upholding this beloved tradition?" I ask with a smile.

"He had a very good reason."

"And are you going to tell me what that reason was?" Don't get too comfortable with her, Snape's voice says in the back of my mind. Have you no concern as to how dangerous this is? You should have left when you had the chance. I fight down his voice, attempting to ignore him entirely, but he remains in my thoughts, warning me.

"It was because he wanted to say this particular quote in person. It was because he wanted us to no longer speak through letters because he wanted to be with me always."

A broad smile comes to my face, my heart growing light. Don't get attached.

"'Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.' Then he said to me, 'You're the most beautiful thing in my life, and you're certainly the only star I ever want to run with. Will you marry me?' I, of course, said yes."

My smile, if possible, broadens further despite my attempt to stifle it—part of me can't help but think about what it would have been like to be raised by them and the other part of me is simply ecstatic to share with Zoe that my parents were just as obsessed with Marcus Aurelius as she is. They were in love, and I was not brought into this world through strife and sorrow but rather because two Death Eaters fell in love as children. "Do you miss him?"

She shrugs. "Not so much him as what we had; however, I find myself missing his kind eyes sometimes. You have his eyes, did you know that? You have the Lestrange blue." Perhaps this holiday will be much better than I feared. "Speaking of stars," she says, changing the subject in a way that tells me Rodolphus is likely a topic to avoid the rest of the holiday, "which two did you want to see?"

I grin. "Bellatrix and Celaeno. Thought that would've been obvious."

"It probably won't be clear enough to see tonight, but I do have a telescope." She frowns slightly. "I do wish there were a way to take you to the Lestrange Estate. It was simply magnificent for stargazing."

Lestrange Estate? My life could have been so different. But at least it's getting better now.