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cvrsedink · 6 years

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A Bellatrix Lestrange One-Shot

*It’s been a very long time since I’ve occupied her head space, so she is a bit rusty. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Dreams turned into nightmares every time she shut her eyes. The sounds of low moans and cries for help filled her ears as if she were still there, chained to the salty stones in her cell, starving, weak, and alone. Only when the waves crashed against the sides of the towering prison were their voices drowned out, smothered by the angry water that surrounded Azkaban. Nature seemed to feed off the wizard-made island; the ocean groaned and clouds permanently darkened the sky, threatening to strike them all down at any given time. But even this scene was not privy to her. The small sliver of a window stood opposite of her confinement, just out of reach and tauntingly promising a freedom she could not have. Day and night she stared through this gap, unable to tear herself away from the past, as the screams of prisoners confused themselves with those entirely in her head.

The faces of her sisters swam before her eyes, frozen in shrieks of terror as they were struck down. Andromeda was always first, her hand outstretched as she attempted to fight for her freedom, but a jet of green light struck her chest like an arrow. Always true to its mark each time she saw the scene. Defiant, as she had always been, but the stubbornness was not unknown to the Black girls. Despite her utter treachery, Bellatrix had always found a way to keep her out of the Dark Lord’s direct line of sight.

Narcissa died last. She laid sprawled out on hard stone flooring, weeping and begging for the life of her child. Slowly, with her arms wrapped around a squirming blonde-haired babe, she would seem to melt into a pool of dark liquid. Her light, nearly white, hair fanned out around her was stained red with blood. A shadowed figure stood over her sinking form, letting out a high cruel laugh before ending her life.

No matter how many times Bellatrix attempted to change their fates, they always left her. And her mind would collapse into darkness, the deaths of her sisters becoming her reality and the only thing she knew to be true. It was her punishment, for the crimes she had committed. Because she had done many things for her Master, unspeakable things, and whatever happiness she had clung to was sucked from her soul. Hollow, broken, but still alive, she’d been half mad by the time her Dark Lord rescued her.

Weeks had passed since then, but the taste of salt lingered on her tongue. The others, the ones who had escaped her fate, didn’t understand the agony she had endured. How could they? Cowardice ruled their lives as they all fled into hiding the moment their Master had fallen. No one searched for him, no one except her and two others. And their attempts had been all for naught. No information was retrieved from the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom, nothing but assurance that Bellatrix was His most loyal servant. In the end they had all been sent away, to rot in cells until their bodies withered into corpses.

Her mind had been lost. Her power became unpredictable, yet as strong as ever. She blamed those that had put her in chains for the misery she had suffered and it was revenge that fueled her. Nothing would satisfy her more than to see her enemies parish in the flames she created and ever since her freedom she had strived to be at His side, aiding him, as she had done before. But the broken fragments of a once strong woman shuddered at his fury, trembled under his glare, and strove earnestly to please him once more. Let me find the boy. She had said, heart fluttering with a long forgotten sensation. But he had shot her down. Admirable as her devotion was, the boy was his. Everything was his. But today, things were changing.

An owl had arrived, a strange method of communication from the Dark Lord, but it was a private summoning. The Mark was used solely to command the presence of all, but tonight he only wanted her. Jittery with anticipation, she waited for the time she was allowed to come. It had been too long since their last private meeting. Nearly fourteen years had passed since she had last stood in his presence alone. Back then she had been so bold, a soldier who was both loyal and ambitious. Tonight, she would prove to be just the same.

When the clock struck eleven, she apparated out of the Malfoy manor unnoticed and arrived outside the safe house. It appeared, from the outside, to be a run down shack with nothing more to it than a tattered, dirty curtain that fluttered in a broken window. Weeds cluttered the front yard, tangling together with sharp thorns, and tainting the air with a putrid smell. Stepping forward, she tapped her wand on the right side of a wrought iron gate before creaking it open and slipping past silently.

The inside of the shack was much larger and cleaner than the outside, but nearly as dark. There was no light, save for a low golden glow coming from the end of a long hallway. It cut through the blackness like a knife and guided her way to where she knew the Dark Lord would be waiting for her. The scent of mildew carpet overpowering her senses, she placed a hand against the cracked door, and pushed it open, announcing her arrival.

“Bellatrix.” His voice was low, barely audible over the crackling and snapping of burning wood. He had his black turned to her, his pale hands clasped behind him like a man deep in thought. “I have some news for you---"

“My Lord!” Bellatrix gasped, breathless with the honor of standing before him. Her body shrank in the company of his, head bowed in respect, a tangle of wild black hair curtained her gaze for only a moment. She longed to look at him, to be seen by him. Slowly, but insistently, she moved closer. “What is it my Lord?”

Gazing into the fire, the strange features of Lord Voldemort were illuminated in an unearthly glow. His sharp cheek bones casted shadows over his face and his red eyes were sunk deep into his skull, like two beacons shining out of the depths of a cavern. It was unnerving, yet mesmerizing and the woman found herself transfixed, waiting for him to tell her why he had summoned her. Why her? What grand plan did he have for the one who had been sent away for him? But the task at hand was not a gift to his soldier, but a test. It had not been lost on him that the woman who had been returned to him was not the same. And there could be no risking that Azkaban had softened her, instead of strengthening her.

“It seems---young Harry has a fond attachment for your cousin, Sirius Black.” His raspy voice filled the room with little effort, his eyes trained on the flames that licked flesh from wood. His servant hissed at the name of her kin and took a small step back. “Now, now, Bellatrix.” Voldemort turned, his gaze resting on her gaunt face. Her hollow eyes were momentarily alight with temptation and he lifted a hand to cup her chin. “I have given our slippery friend, Lucius, a mission--- and I wish you to accompany him.”

Her slender fingers twitched, her body coiling away from his cold touch. “You should not trust him, my Lord. He is not trustworthy. Malfoy is weak!” Bellatrix spat. “He is not strong enough to carry out your missions. You should have let me do this.” She was the most loyal, she had done everything to find him, and her efforts were repaid with exclusion. How dare Lucius or Severus think they were the most favored, the most devout of them all. How dare they think themselves worthy! After all those years, they had spent in their cozy lives, forgetting who they were and letting the world forget who they had served.

Ignoring her outburst, the Dark Lord continued. “I’m going to lure the boy to the Department of Mysteries, so that we may retrieve the prophecy at long last. He will think Sirius is there, captured by me, tortured by me. This will bring him. But it will also bring Sirius, no doubt.” He paused, taking in the expression on his loyal servant’s face, drinking in the flickering of emotions hidden behind her lidded eyes. “You must rid the boy of him.”

It took only a moment for Bellatrix to understand what she was being instructed to do. It would not be her job to get the prophecy or even capture the boy, instead it would be to kill Sirius Black. “Of course, My Lord.” Her voice did not tremble or fault in any way to betray the sliver of hesitance she felt. The Black family name would die with Sirius and they would fade away, like other great houses had done. No more would they command the respect of others or insight fear, but instead dwindle away like a withering flower. Once dead, there would be no use to recollect on it and no chance of revival.

“That is all.”

The Dark Lord turned away from her and Bellatrix retreated into the shadows, the face of young Sirius dancing in her mind. Such a bright, vivacious boy he had been. What a shame…what a shame, she thought miserably. But she could not fail. It was clear to her, now, that this was not a mission she could turn away from. There would be no more shielding her family from the wrath of the Dark Lord.

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