at least i don't see you float away
Title: Us Two
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genres: angst
Characters: Lionel Lovegood, Bellatrix Black-Lestrange, mentions of Luna Lovegood, Veronica, and Marlene McKinnon
It’s almost offensive, really, the way the Dementors don’t hardly bother him. (Logically speaking, Lionel finds it entirely realistic that they don’t, considering he hasn’t been happy since…shite, he can’t even remember it’s been that long.) It isn’t entirely a bad thing, really, because they have always simply chilled him to the bone, but sometimes he swears, bloody swears, that they look out of their dark hoods at him with pity. Sometimes he can’t stand it.
Then again, he’s spending Christmas Eve in Azkaban, so perhaps he deserves a little pity where he can get it.
Bellatrix has wrapped herself up around the bars to her cell, curling her fingers around the rust and rolling up onto the balls of her feet to get even just an inch closer to freedom. Her hair has dirt and grime crusting it into a tangled mess, and she keeps scraping her teeth over a scab on her bottom lip. When she sees it’s him, though, she shoves away roughly from the gate and retreats back into the shadows, saying, “Oh, it’s just you.”
Lionel smiles at her warmly. “Hello, Bellatrix. Glad to see another year with such…splendid company,” he glances to the Dementors, “has left you with still that shred of sanity.”
From where she’s curled up into the furthest corner away from him, Bellatrix gnaws at her ring finger and says, “Takes more than just a few bad memories to destroy me,” and giggles to herself a bit.
“Good,” Lionel says. “I rather like being the crazy one, out of the two of us.”
“Me too,” Bella agrees. She moves on to picking at an infected cut on her leg. After it begins to trickle blood and pus down to her ankle she looks up at him and asks, “Where’s that little girl of yours?”
“Luna?” Lionel asks. “At school.” He coughs, and looks at the ground. “It’s our first Christmas apart. But she, er, sent you this.” Lionel reaches down for the package he’d brought with him, and passes it through the bars.
Bellatrix attacks it ferociously, clawing at the paper and biting at the strings. Half a minute later she holds up, in triumphant glee, a roughly knitted blanket. Bellatrix hugs it to her chest and stares at Lionel with big, childlike eyes. “It’s beautiful!” she gasps, and buries her face in the scratchy wool.
Lionel smiles. “She hoped you would like it. It should keep you a bit warmer during the winter.” He sweeps his eyes over her cold stone prison. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine!” Bellatrix barks, looking up from her present. “And I should thank you not to worry over me, traitor!”
“Now, Bellatrix,” Lionel says. “If I don’t worry after you, who will?”
Into the blanket, she mutters, “Don’t need anyone to worry about me, can take care of myself, just don’t understand.” Bella looks up. “How is that third year…what was her name? The crazy one.”
“You mean Veronica. I married her, remember? You were at the wedding.”
“No I wasn’t.”
“Yes you were. I saw you, standing in the back and trying not to get spotted.” He smiles. “I know how you work, Bellatrix. We’re the same, you and I.”
Bellatrix makes a face at him. “How is she, then. Don’t dodge my questions. You know I’m just dying for news of everyone out there.”
Lionel’s face darkens a bit. “She…died. Few years ago, um. Potions accident.” He coughs hoarsely into his sleeve and shuts his eyes against the tears.
“Ohhh,” Bellatrix breathes, and steps up to the bars again. “Toughen up, Lionel. People die, this is a war, remember?” She spits. “And you’re the fucking enemy.” Her fingernails dig into her palms.
Quickly, Lionel snatches her hands and pulls them out of her cell. “How many times, Bella, must I tell you to not do this?” He pries her fingers from her palms.
Her face softens. “At least once more. Traitor.” She speaks the name with affection.
“Besides,” Lionel continues, smiling softly now, “War’s over, Bella.”
His company giggles softly and retreats back into the shadows of her cell. “No it’s not, Lionel. He’s coming back for me, the Lord, the Dark Lord. He knows I’ve been faithful, waiting for him. The Ministry’s good at covering things up, remember?”
Lionel just watches her for a minute, afraid.
Bellatrix snuggles her blanket again. “Has your Patronus come back since we last spoke?”
He shakes his head. “No. Still hasn’t,” he murmurs, and sits back down on the visitor’s bench.
“It will,” Bellatrix says simply. “You’ll be happy again one day, and then you won’t be able to come back and see me anymore.”
With one eyebrow raised, Lionel says, “I’d brave the Dementors to come see you. You know I would.”
“Doesn’t matter!” She laughs. “I’ll be gone! He’s coming for me, Lionel, I can hear him, calling…” Bellatrix stares happily into nothing for a moment, before turning her attention back to her visitor. “I’ll keep you safe. Like you have for me all these years. How long has it been, Lionel? You’ve visited me every year.”
Lionel stares down at his hands. “Too long. We’re getting old.”
She smiles. “We are indeed.”
The Dementors are edging in now, a sure sign that Lionel’s fifteen visitation minutes are up. He stands. “I have to go now, Bellatrix. Hold out another year, eh? I really like being the crazy one of us two.”
Bella stands when he does, and snakes her arms out the bars to grab at his shirt and pull him against her, the rusty iron in between them. “Please don’t go, Lionel, you traitor, you blood traitor, you filthy scum, don’t go, I need you here, can’t last another year, I’ll go crazy, don’t go, please, please, please…” and then she’s holding him tight and pressing her wet face against his and kissing him hard through the prison bars. Lionel’s arms find their way to wrap around her waist and they stay like that for a minute, with the jail and a million miles of unsaid words between them despite the kiss, until the Dementors begin to slither in closer, hissing, and Lionel pulls away.
“Bella, we end like this every year, I have to go…” he says, letting the last link between them, their hands clinging tightly, fall apart.
Desperately, Bellatrix cries, “I killed her! I killed her, Lionel and I’m sorry, so sorry…I killed Marlene…” Lionel looks at her for a minute with those big eyes that he gets when he doesn’t know what to say, to feel. Terrified, Bellatrix rambles on, “And I’m so sorry, she deserved it, I hate her, but Lionel I don’t hate you, I’m sorry…so sorry…I’ll make it up to you! I’ll keep that baby girl of yours safe…”
The words “baby girl” echo after Lionel as he turns away and walks down the cold stone aisle and out of Azkaban. Next year, when he finally works up the courage to come back, Bellatrix is gone.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genres: angst
Characters: Lionel Lovegood, Bellatrix Black-Lestrange, mentions of Luna Lovegood, Veronica, and Marlene McKinnon
It’s almost offensive, really, the way the Dementors don’t hardly bother him. (Logically speaking, Lionel finds it entirely realistic that they don’t, considering he hasn’t been happy since…shite, he can’t even remember it’s been that long.) It isn’t entirely a bad thing, really, because they have always simply chilled him to the bone, but sometimes he swears, bloody swears, that they look out of their dark hoods at him with pity. Sometimes he can’t stand it.
Then again, he’s spending Christmas Eve in Azkaban, so perhaps he deserves a little pity where he can get it.
Bellatrix has wrapped herself up around the bars to her cell, curling her fingers around the rust and rolling up onto the balls of her feet to get even just an inch closer to freedom. Her hair has dirt and grime crusting it into a tangled mess, and she keeps scraping her teeth over a scab on her bottom lip. When she sees it’s him, though, she shoves away roughly from the gate and retreats back into the shadows, saying, “Oh, it’s just you.”
Lionel smiles at her warmly. “Hello, Bellatrix. Glad to see another year with such…splendid company,” he glances to the Dementors, “has left you with still that shred of sanity.”
From where she’s curled up into the furthest corner away from him, Bellatrix gnaws at her ring finger and says, “Takes more than just a few bad memories to destroy me,” and giggles to herself a bit.
“Good,” Lionel says. “I rather like being the crazy one, out of the two of us.”
“Me too,” Bella agrees. She moves on to picking at an infected cut on her leg. After it begins to trickle blood and pus down to her ankle she looks up at him and asks, “Where’s that little girl of yours?”
“Luna?” Lionel asks. “At school.” He coughs, and looks at the ground. “It’s our first Christmas apart. But she, er, sent you this.” Lionel reaches down for the package he’d brought with him, and passes it through the bars.
Bellatrix attacks it ferociously, clawing at the paper and biting at the strings. Half a minute later she holds up, in triumphant glee, a roughly knitted blanket. Bellatrix hugs it to her chest and stares at Lionel with big, childlike eyes. “It’s beautiful!” she gasps, and buries her face in the scratchy wool.
Lionel smiles. “She hoped you would like it. It should keep you a bit warmer during the winter.” He sweeps his eyes over her cold stone prison. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine!” Bellatrix barks, looking up from her present. “And I should thank you not to worry over me, traitor!”
“Now, Bellatrix,” Lionel says. “If I don’t worry after you, who will?”
Into the blanket, she mutters, “Don’t need anyone to worry about me, can take care of myself, just don’t understand.” Bella looks up. “How is that third year…what was her name? The crazy one.”
“You mean Veronica. I married her, remember? You were at the wedding.”
“No I wasn’t.”
“Yes you were. I saw you, standing in the back and trying not to get spotted.” He smiles. “I know how you work, Bellatrix. We’re the same, you and I.”
Bellatrix makes a face at him. “How is she, then. Don’t dodge my questions. You know I’m just dying for news of everyone out there.”
Lionel’s face darkens a bit. “She…died. Few years ago, um. Potions accident.” He coughs hoarsely into his sleeve and shuts his eyes against the tears.
“Ohhh,” Bellatrix breathes, and steps up to the bars again. “Toughen up, Lionel. People die, this is a war, remember?” She spits. “And you’re the fucking enemy.” Her fingernails dig into her palms.
Quickly, Lionel snatches her hands and pulls them out of her cell. “How many times, Bella, must I tell you to not do this?” He pries her fingers from her palms.
Her face softens. “At least once more. Traitor.” She speaks the name with affection.
“Besides,” Lionel continues, smiling softly now, “War’s over, Bella.”
His company giggles softly and retreats back into the shadows of her cell. “No it’s not, Lionel. He’s coming back for me, the Lord, the Dark Lord. He knows I’ve been faithful, waiting for him. The Ministry’s good at covering things up, remember?”
Lionel just watches her for a minute, afraid.
Bellatrix snuggles her blanket again. “Has your Patronus come back since we last spoke?”
He shakes his head. “No. Still hasn’t,” he murmurs, and sits back down on the visitor’s bench.
“It will,” Bellatrix says simply. “You’ll be happy again one day, and then you won’t be able to come back and see me anymore.”
With one eyebrow raised, Lionel says, “I’d brave the Dementors to come see you. You know I would.”
“Doesn’t matter!” She laughs. “I’ll be gone! He’s coming for me, Lionel, I can hear him, calling…” Bellatrix stares happily into nothing for a moment, before turning her attention back to her visitor. “I’ll keep you safe. Like you have for me all these years. How long has it been, Lionel? You’ve visited me every year.”
Lionel stares down at his hands. “Too long. We’re getting old.”
She smiles. “We are indeed.”
The Dementors are edging in now, a sure sign that Lionel’s fifteen visitation minutes are up. He stands. “I have to go now, Bellatrix. Hold out another year, eh? I really like being the crazy one of us two.”
Bella stands when he does, and snakes her arms out the bars to grab at his shirt and pull him against her, the rusty iron in between them. “Please don’t go, Lionel, you traitor, you blood traitor, you filthy scum, don’t go, I need you here, can’t last another year, I’ll go crazy, don’t go, please, please, please…” and then she’s holding him tight and pressing her wet face against his and kissing him hard through the prison bars. Lionel’s arms find their way to wrap around her waist and they stay like that for a minute, with the jail and a million miles of unsaid words between them despite the kiss, until the Dementors begin to slither in closer, hissing, and Lionel pulls away.
“Bella, we end like this every year, I have to go…” he says, letting the last link between them, their hands clinging tightly, fall apart.
Desperately, Bellatrix cries, “I killed her! I killed her, Lionel and I’m sorry, so sorry…I killed Marlene…” Lionel looks at her for a minute with those big eyes that he gets when he doesn’t know what to say, to feel. Terrified, Bellatrix rambles on, “And I’m so sorry, she deserved it, I hate her, but Lionel I don’t hate you, I’m sorry…so sorry…I’ll make it up to you! I’ll keep that baby girl of yours safe…”
The words “baby girl” echo after Lionel as he turns away and walks down the cold stone aisle and out of Azkaban. Next year, when he finally works up the courage to come back, Bellatrix is gone.