Five Fragments of an Obsidian Heart | By : bitterfig Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1266 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
4. Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Our girl cousins loomed large over Sirius’ and my childhood. Like the Graces, like the Fates, there were three of them—a trinity.
Bellatrix was the oldest, ten years older than me. She had dark hair like Sirius did and pale skin and that same magnetism. Maybe that was why I liked her best, even though she wasn’t so kind as her sisters and regarded me as an exasperating tag-along…until about the time Sirius ran away from home and I became heir.
Then there was Andromeda. We looked alike her and I—brown hair, purple eyes and fair skin. I was her pet when I was very small. She liked me even though I was the second son and had little importance then. Her sisters preferred to cultivate Sirius, but Andromeda had a weakness for the unimportant, insignificant and overlooked. It brought her quite a bit of trouble later on.
Narcissa was the youngest, closest to me in age still several years older. She was very lovely, like a fairy tale princess. Long, golden blonde hair, huge eyes the blue of a clear sky. Of all the sisters, she was the one I knew the least. We never had much to say to each other because we were too much alike. She was as subservient to Bellatrix as I was to Sirus.
I was fascinated by these girls and the women they became. They were so beautiful, so vivid, so much a part of one another. They were three in one, an entity unto themselves.
Then, when I was ten years old, their triangle fragmented. Andromeda married a man who was Muggle-born.
The Black family was reeling for months. It was a tremendous scandal. No Black was supposed to say Andromeda’s name ever again, but I certainly heard it whispered often enough. Usually someone was asking, “How could Andromeda shame her family like this?” What I wanted to know was how Andromeda could leave her sisters like she had. I remember thinking that if Sirius ever left me I would die.
Of course, Sirius did leave me and the family Black. After that, Bellatrix (who was Bellatrix Lestrange by then) found me worthy of notice.
I knew what Bella was. She was the Marquise de Merteuil in Les Liaisons Dangereuses; a woman too intelligent and too passionate for the world she lived in, who, having no other outlet, used her gifts to manipulate people and advance her own social status. I knew this but I was sure there was so much more to her. I had seen her red-rimmed eyes after Andromeda left. I knew she could love deeply. I knew her heart had been broken.
Bella treated me like an adult long before I merited such treatment. She was like me, rather wicked. Nothing shocked her. I could tell her about my love affairs without her wailing that I was only fourteen years old and ought to be alone and frustrated as is the lot of the young.
We became very close over the next few years. I remember lying with my head on her lap, right after Barty, crying. “Don’t let it hurt you, little king,” she cooed. “To survive, you must have a heart of stone.” And I told her my heart was made of obsidian. That it was hard and dark but it shattered easily. She kissed me on the mouth and told me she had plans for me.
In the months to come, Bellatrix gradually introduced me to the Death Eaters—to their doctrines and protocols, their ends and their means. I didn’t agree with most of it. I didn’t believe in the things they did, but since I wasn’t sure what I did believe in, I just got drunk and went along with whatever Bella wanted me to do. I trusted her.
At some point during the process of drawing me into the Death Eaters, I wound up in Bella and Rodolphus Lestrange’s bed. I would have preferred it to have been just her. I’d never cared for her husband. No matter how much money he had or how suave he pretended to be, there was something crude and bestial about him. Still, if it meant being close to Bella, being wrapped up in Bella, I could tolerate being groped, leered at and manhandled by her charming husband.
My dalliance with the Lestranges proved short-lived. Not long after I joined the Death Eaters, I met someone for whom I was willing to give up all my other lovers. Of course, Bella was more than a lover. She was family and I did not stop loving or trusting her. When, after a brief seven months as a member, I decided to leave the Death Eaters, I went to her and asked her to come with me.
I trusted her.
It killed me.
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