A celebratory dinner is held the week they come home, the entirety of the inner circle summoned to celebrate the freedom of one of the Dark Lord's most loyal Death Eaters, Valencia Elara Lestrange. Valencia's fellow Death Eaters including her father and uncle had escaped from Azkaban, with the help of the Dark Lord.
Lucius offers to host it at the Manor, despite Narcissa's objections, and so they come; draped in familiar cloaks and sporting masks that glint in the moonlight. Bellatrix is already there, dressed in a formal robe, a corset pulled tight around her thin frame. Hair that had once been sleek and shiny is wild and matted, the array of curls matching the personality she's always had. Valencia was wearing a long black satin dress which had a high split in one side. Her hair was messy like her mothers.
Bellatrix sits to the right of the Dark Lord, her head tilted to look up at him, her eyes big and brown and beaming. Her mouth is curved in a pleased smile, an apprehensive grin. She leans toward his body, clings to every word he speaks, cherishes every glance and touch he sends her way.
It's rather revolting, really. Narcissa sits at Lucius' side, her hand curled around his wrist beneath the table, his palm warm where it rests against her thigh. He's in conversation with Antonin, but Narcissa doesn't listen. She's too busy looking at her sister, too busy watching Bellatrix watch the Dark Lord. She's married but why is she obsessed with the Dark Lord? She exchanges a look with Valencia who similarly is confused.
They've been at the table for hours, now, and she hasn't seen Bella look away once. Hasn't seen her show any interest in anyone other than her lordship. "Stop staring," says a voice in her ear, and Narcissa's gaze quickly shifts to Lucius' face. His expression is blank, but she sees the question lingering behind grey eyes, the curiosity. She offers a miniature shake of her head, a silent expression of later, and Lucius returns to the conversation around him.
Bellatrix's mind goes foggy like she's in some sort of trance, rewatching her memories of her fifteen year old self and a strange book.
***
Bella waited until she was back in the Slytherin common room, before she leafed through the book. All pages were empty. She sighed. She'd truly hoped they'd been someone's forgotten Potions notes.
She unloaded her books on one of the common room tables and opened the empty notebook. A moment she hesitated. As always, everything in the room was covered by the eerie green glow of the lake above, but on the page before her it looked sinister. Almost beckoning her to dive in and drown.
She shook her head. What nonsense.
Valerian root, she wrote. Asphodel, wormwood, sopophorous bean.
Bella squeaked and dropped her quill as the words materialised in front of her. Then she chastised herself. Really, it was just a magical notebook.
Which properties of the Mugwort makes it superior?
How should I know? I used it by mistake.
She blinked. Definitely not just a magical notebook.
Who's there?
I could ask you the same.
Bellatrix Black.
Ah, Toujours Pur, n'est-ce pas?
You know our family motto? Who are you?
My name is Tom.
YOU ARE READING
she isn't what she says
FanfictionIn the end there's no one to help you. Your on your own.
