Harry Potter - The Black Pearl: Chapter Three
Rating: Mature
Warning/s: Torture, Incest, Graphic Sex
Pairing: Bellatrix Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange
Word Count: 3,812
Summary: Bellatrix Lestrange's desperate need to have a child leads her into the ever consuming darkness of insanity. As she races towards her ultimate demise, with Voldemort's faith in her fading fast, she is forced to question everything she has dedicated her life to fighting for. The descent into madness is a dark and twisted one, but what if you discovered it had been forced upon you? (AU)
***
Once he stepped foot beyond the front door he could do nothing but keep walking. There was no direction, no certainty, just an intense desire to disappear into the night with the child that had been rejected from their dynasty. All he had to do was keep walking. As long as he didn't stop he could put it off for just a little longer. Because once he stopped it would be real - it would have to be done.
From behind him a spine-chilling scream escaped the confines of the Lestrange Manor. In his heart he could feel his wife's pain, he was sure of it. As sure as he could feel his own heartbeat he could feel Bella's anguish. It wasn't the first time and likely wouldn't be the last. As another scream echoed through the night he fought the urge to turn and run to her side. It was where he belonged, where he should have been at that moment. He'd been at her side with every one of the miscarriages they had endured, watched her silently slip away into darkness as another piece of her heart died with each unborn child. This was the first time he had seen her react with such a violent passion and it scared him to leave her with Druella. But he feared more what would have happened had he not taken on the task himself. No doubt it would have been the old bat's greatest pleasure to slaughter the child in front of her daughter's eyes. It would have killed Bellatrix. Despite what he could feel his actions doing to her in that moment, he knew if she'd been forced to watch it happen there would have been no bringing her back to any semblance of sanity.
Crossing over from the edge of their estate into the woods, Rodolphus stopped abruptly as though he had been hit in the chest with a deadly curse. She was gone. One way or another he couldn't feel her anymore. He turned to look back at the Manor, desperate to know what had happened. But all was silent. There was no sign of life inside, but part of him was certain that he would have sensed death. Maybe it was some childish notion brought on by the traumatic situation he found himself in, but he was sure he would know if she died.
In his arms Cassiopeia grew tense. Instinctively he tightened his hold on her, drawing her firmly against his chest. He turned his attention to the child and marvelled, for the moment, at how his instinct to protect her remained despite what he was about to do.
Pushing the thought aside he continued on his path. He strode deeper into the woods, finding a relative amount of relief as he retreated further from his home. Not that it made what he was doing any easier. His mind was plagued with thoughts of what had happened to his beloved wife. Leaving her alone, in such a vulnerable state, with her mother had not been the smartest decision he'd ever made. Knowing Narcissa was there didn't help matters. She was still just a girl in so many ways and so terrified of her mother. There was no telling what mess he would find upon his return.
'What are you doing, Rodolphus,' he scolded himself as he kept walking, moving faster through the trees. 'She will never forgive you for this. You've lost your only child and your only love in one action. You will never be complete again.' He forced himself to ignore the reality. He couldn't have it clouding his mind if he had any hope of accomplishing his task.
A small clearing opened up before him and he stopped once more.
It wasn't a natural clearing. Tree trunks lay haphazardly on the ground, formerly burnt but now beginning to sprout new life. The irony was not lost on him. The 'clearing' had been made by Bellatrix in a fit of rage after her blood traitor sister had run away. If he hadn't caught her she likely would have destroyed the entire woodland. And now as he brought their newborn daughter to this place it seemed the fallen trees had birthed new life as well.
He looked down on the small baby in his arms and drew in a sharp breath. Big black eyes stared up at him. Bellatrix' eyes, exactly. He fell to his knees with a heavy thud, holding his daughter to his chest as he looked at her. The first thing that made him fall in love with his wife all those years ago was her eyes. She had such big beautiful eyes that seemed to light up or darken her whole face, depending on her mood. They were so unique, so undoubtedly her, that they had caught the attention of a thirteen year old boy who up until that point had thought girls were the bane of his existence.
“I can't do this,” he whispered into the empty clearing. He turned his daughter in his arms, holding her out in front of him so that her tiny feet curled together against his chest. The dark eyes looked up at the sky, though likely saw nothing but blurred colours and shapes. He lifted her slightly, meeting her halfway, as he lowered his lips to kiss her head. “Forgive me.”
Holding her carefully with one arm, he reached back to draw his wand from the holster at his hip. “Merlin, please, forgive me,” he breathed out as he pressed the wood to his daughter's neck.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
***
A swift flick of the wrist, the scratching sound of quill against parchment, and the Owl to Gringotts Bank was signed; Druella M Black. With a tight smile she replaced her quill in her handbag and turned her attention to the Healer. “You'll find your payment transferred within minutes,” she informed the woman, standing up from the table. “Good service is never hard to find if you have the right connections.”
“Of course Madam Black, thank you,” the Healer nodded, the two sharing a smile that only true conspirators could appreciate.
With one hand firmly on her hip and the other gracefully holding a glass of wine, Druella moved to the window to survey the grounds and consider what had just happened. It was all for the best, of course. She hadn't considered how a child would impair her daughter's judgment. There were far greater things laid out for her. Why be tied down with the lowly duties of motherhood when you could have the world at your feet? The Dark Lord viewed her as an asset, his finest, and she was going to throw that all away over a drooling mess.
Yes, it was all for the best.
She smiled then, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow, as she mentally applauded herself. Such instincts, such finesse... it was her masterpiece. Bellatrix was her masterpiece - a nightmare waiting to happen, a warrior at the ready, a fierce and powerful witch. With that thought she swirled the dark red wine in her glass, inhaling the rich aroma. She'd ordered the wretched House Elves to serve her only the finest wine the Lestranges had in their cellar. And it was quite exquisite. It made her wonder, vaguely, what it had been saved for. Not that it mattered at all, now that it had been uncorked.
Even from the kitchen she heard the front doors burst open. She resisted the urge to laugh as she noticed the Healer jump at the sound. The hunter had returned, and without the cry of the troublesome babe. That was good news indeed. She had to admit to herself she hadn't thought Rodolphus would pull through. He'd always seemed so devoted to Bellatrix, so determined to cater to her every whim. But finally he had shown some real masculinity. No pureblood male should kneel at a woman's feet. And it appeared, after all this time, he didn't.
It wasn't long until he had found them in the kitchen. If he was shocked to find the room looking more like some underground surgical room, he didn't show it. “It is done,” he growled, dropping a bundle onto the table beside the bloody sheets.
“You took your time,” Druella said.
His nostrils flared, but that was all the reaction he dared for the moment. Mentally he dared the older woman to turn around, to face him. He wanted her to look him in the eye and tell him what he had done was the right thing. The worst part was she would without hesitation. He knew that. “You come into my house and ask me to do away with my only child,” he spoke swiftly, remaining calm despite the anger building inside him. “I shall take all the time I wish.”
She turned then, studying her son in law with pursed lips. “Mm...” as if the sound was good enough, she turned her attention back to the window. The wine glass rested against her lips for a moment before she raised it once more to taste the sweet nectar of victory.
Rodolphus glared at her, icy blue eyes shooting daggers at the woman's back. He would gladly strangle her if he thought it would do any good. Yet everything about her only served to irritate him. Particularly the audacity she had to stand in his home as if she were Lady of the Manor. He bit his tongue, attempting to remain civil, as he studied his surroundings. “And what is this?” he asked. It was not as if he didn't have a right to know. His kitchen had not been in such a state since he'd first tried to teach Bellatrix to cook. “I leave the Estate for a short period and you turn my kitchen into a slaughter house. Should I fear for the occupants, or whomever else you've had carved up in my absence? I trust the Elves remain untouched, I would hate to have to break in new ones so soon...”
As his words suddenly faltered, Druella smirked. Had he found the prize? Had he noticed what was right in front of his nose? Now the fun would truly begin, she would see exactly what he was made of.
“What is that?” he growled, stalking towards the Healer as he pointed to the silver platter. Somewhere in his mind he knew exactly what he was pointing at, he just didn't want to believe it.
“Mister Lestrange... I...” the Healer took two steps back, walking into the wall as he advanced on her.
“Tell me what that is or, so help me, I shall curse your tongue from your throat,” he growled at the woman, his anger boiling to the surface.
The Healer's eyes were filled with fear in that moment. She glanced frantically towards Druella but the matriarch was simply watching with interest, her wine glass lingering at her lips. “It was asked of me, Mister Lestrange,” she spoke quickly, as though the slightest hesitation could bring about her ultimate demise. “It was Madam Black's wish to have your wife's uterus removed. I was only doing as I was told.”
He stumbled backward, looking as though he had just been slapped across the face.
Shock spread through him like wildfire, numbing his senses. He reached out to steady himself. As his hand rested against the table, his fingers fell against the silver tray drawing his attention to the object once more. His wide eyes took in the taut, blood-spattered muscle. The hollow womb that had, until recently, secured his only child just as an oyster protected it's prized pearl. It wasn't meant to be there. There were things in the world that he did not understand in their entirety, but there was no purpose to this action. There was no logical explanation as to why his wife's uterus had been harvested from her body.
Except that there was a reason, one that stood across from him at that moment sipping wine without a care.
Instantly he clenched his fists, looking up at his mother in law with a deadly glare. “You did this,” he spoke, his tone dark and dangerous.
“Sacrifices must be made for the greater good, Rodolphus,” Druella responded with only a slight air of annoyance. Her eyes wavered only for a moment as she noticed the Healer quickly pack up and leave. “My daughter's little set back cannot happen again. Her true path is already in place, she will rise at the Dark Lord's side, and if I have to put an end to every distraction that prevents her ascension I will do so.”
“YOU DO NOT ENTER MY HOUSE AND ACT ON MY WIFE'S BEHALF!” Rodolphus slammed his fists down hard on the table between them. He began to stalk around the table, moving swiftly towards her, his eyes trained on her like a tiger going in for the kill. “You do not rule this household, Druella, and you certainly do not rule Bellatrix. Her place at the Dark Lord's side is not a chance for you to make up for your maternal inadequacies, not that I imagine anything would. You are nothing but a heartless bitch, gradually shrivelling up inside until the day you die. Old, alone, and unloved! For you, Druella Black, know nothing but hatred and it seeps from you as you go about your day, infecting the lives of those obtuse enough to get close to you. In truth you are disease, and I will not have you in my house a moment longer!”
With her eyebrow raised and firm smirk forming on her lips, Druella's eyes glared straight back at his. She stepped towards him, challenging him, knowing he would not dare to turn on a Black matriarch. “You think you can keep me from my family?”
“You have no family here,” he snarled at her. “There is no Black residing within these walls, and there never shall be!”
“I did what was right for my daughter. That worthless spawn had no business being born...”
A sharp crack filled the room as Rodolphus swung his arm, backhanding her across the face in one swift movement. The glass she held smashed on the stone floor, the wine spilling across the surface like the blood that stained the table. “Get out of my house,” he warned her, pulling his wand from his robes.
Touching her cheek gingerly, Druella rose to her full height once more. She stood with her usual rigid posture, her eyes narrowing as she lifted her chin in defiance. “Strike me down, boy. I will have you buried beneath the very foundations of this building,” she threatened, daring to take another step.
“You will leave my house this instant and you will not return,” Rodolphus growled, refusing to back down. “I would sooner bathe in the blood of muggles than welcome you across my threshold.” He raised his wand, holding it directly at the level of her heart. As she moved to pull her wand from her sleeve in retaliation, he flicked his wrist towards the nearby shelf. A jar exploded sending shards of glass and causing Druella to flinch despite her best efforts.
A low chuckle began to rise from her throat, a deadly sound, and for the first time Rodolphus knew where his wife got it from. She took a step towards him, glass crunching beneath her boots. “Mark my words, Rodolphus Lestrange, you will rue this day,” she snarled. With a simple swipe of her hand she batted his wand away from her as she continued to move closer to him. Slowly she leaned towards him, breathing her words against his ear as though her tongue were made of ice. “You will never keep Bellatrix from me, because you've failed to realise that she is me. Your worst nightmares are coming for you and there is nothing you can do.” She pressed a mocking kiss to his cheek, before swiftly turning on the spot and disapparating.
Rodolphus wiped his hand violently across his cheek, as if he planned to skin his own face to remove her devil's kiss. Clenching his fists he let out an almighty roar, expelling all his anger to the now empty room. But it wasn't enough. He moved swiftly brandishing his wand like a whip as he took out all his frustration. Jars burst, cupboard doors flew off their hinges, and liquids painted the walls with a harshly splattered pattern. He continued to roar, the unnatural sound echoing throughout the manor.
Then as suddenly as it began it stopped.
He stood in the kitchen breathing heavily through clenched teeth, finally taking in his surroundings. His eyes came to rest on Narcissa standing in the doorway. “Bella...” he breathed out. It was all he could manage.
“Mother made sure she wouldn't remember anything,” she informed him, her voice almost a whisper. “She won't eat and she won't speak. You need to go to her.”
“I can't...”
“Rodolphus!” Narcissa shouted at him, tears falling down her cheeks as she stamped her foot. “You have to. If you don't she won't get up. She'll go to sleep and she won't wake up. If you don't go to her all of this will have been for nothing. She'll be nothing!”
He lowered his head a moment, closing his eyes. Ultimately he knew Narcissa was right. He knew how fragile Bellatrix would be and how hard it would be to bring her back to any semblance of her old self. But he had to be there for her. He hadn't left her yet and he wasn't going to start now, not when she was truly thrown into the depths of her own personal hell. Taking a deep breath, he straightened up and nodded his head firmly. His wife needed him. His love needed him. He was not about to let her drown.
***
Her mother had explained everything to her. The words she'd used were spoken with little emotion, if any at all. In the twenty eight years since the birth of her eldest child Druella Black had not once expressed any feeling towards the girl -it seemed ridiculous to break with tradition. So she had stood beside the bed and explained it all, everything that had apparently occurred over three days, and in silence Bellatrix had listened trying to force it all together in her mind. There had been a surprise attack by the Order - that much seemed obvious - but she'd been injured severely before they had a chance to escape. She'd lost some months of her memory (in fact it had taken some time to convince her that it wasn't the date she thought it was) and suffered a vicious collection of stunners to the stomach. From what they could tell she was healing at an acceptable pace, despite the memory loss, but healing was a tricky business even with the aid of a wand.
She lay staring at the tea tray on the bedside table. Steam no longer rose from the tea or the broth, she had watched in silence as the warm wisps gradually subsided, but she couldn't bring herself to move. If she moved she would feel the pain. Everything hurt. Any little move she made caused a sharp sting to shoot through her abdomen and a ripple effect of nausea flowing up to the back of her throat. So she lay on her side with one leg curled around a thick pillow, silently wishing she'd died in battle.
Across the room the door opened and she closed her eyes quickly, keeping her breathing even in hopes they would just go away. Without needing to look she could tell it was him. The knowledge alone forced an onslaught of tears to well up in her eyes and she turned to bury her head into her pillow. She knew he must have been told already. It was probably the only reason he stood in their room now, to see just how defective his wife really was.
“Bellatrix,” his voice was unnaturally soft, almost broken, as he crossed the room. Careful not to cause her any more pain, he moved onto the bed until he lay behind her. With an unspoken tenderness he kissed her shoulder as she began to cry. “Forgive me, Bella.” he whispered against her skin, words barely audible to her.
For the first time in her life she felt safe to cry, cradled in her husband's arms. She wanted to tell him she was sorry for letting it happen. There was a desperate need in her to let him know what she was feeling. Yet the words wouldn't come when she opened her mouth, instead she found herself expressing other thoughts. “I don't expect you to remain bound to me,” the pain she was feeling was evident in the tone of her voice as she turned slightly towards him. Years of conditioning forced out her resignation. “There are countless acceptable purebloods that would be willing to give you an heir. I will not question your decision.”
Almost the instant she said it he pushed himself up and turned her face to look at him. His fingers caressed her pale cheek, brushing away the path of stray tears. “If we cannot have children then I do not want them,” he told her sincerely.
“Rodolphus...”
“Belle,” his thumb brushed against her lips, silencing her. “Carrying on the Lestrange line does not rest solely on me. I love you, I want you... anything else comes second, you have to know that.”
She looked into his eyes, finding the pain she felt reflected back at her. It hadn't occurred to her that he would hurt too, for some unknown reason she'd just assumed he would toss her aside. “I'm sorry,” she whispered sadly.
“No. I'm sorry, Bella,” he lay down once more, his hand coming to rest against her abdomen. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let it happen. I'm sorry.” the desperate words were spoken between kisses as he buried his face against her shoulder, holding her close to him.
There was nothing she could say, it made no sense to her why he was apologising. So she lay quietly in his arms, letting her tears stain the pillow as she listened to his pleading voice. Her hand slipped down to lay over his. Their fingers entwined and she felt him press his hand gently against her. She closed her eyes and tried to push away all thoughts of the children she would never have. Despite what Rodolphus said she knew she'd failed him as a wife, and she couldn't help but feel as though she'd failed as a woman.
As her tears subsided, a dark haze fell over her and she was determined never to fail again.
>> Chapter Four
Warning/s: Torture, Incest, Graphic Sex
Pairing: Bellatrix Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange
Word Count: 3,812
Summary: Bellatrix Lestrange's desperate need to have a child leads her into the ever consuming darkness of insanity. As she races towards her ultimate demise, with Voldemort's faith in her fading fast, she is forced to question everything she has dedicated her life to fighting for. The descent into madness is a dark and twisted one, but what if you discovered it had been forced upon you? (AU)
***
Once he stepped foot beyond the front door he could do nothing but keep walking. There was no direction, no certainty, just an intense desire to disappear into the night with the child that had been rejected from their dynasty. All he had to do was keep walking. As long as he didn't stop he could put it off for just a little longer. Because once he stopped it would be real - it would have to be done.
From behind him a spine-chilling scream escaped the confines of the Lestrange Manor. In his heart he could feel his wife's pain, he was sure of it. As sure as he could feel his own heartbeat he could feel Bella's anguish. It wasn't the first time and likely wouldn't be the last. As another scream echoed through the night he fought the urge to turn and run to her side. It was where he belonged, where he should have been at that moment. He'd been at her side with every one of the miscarriages they had endured, watched her silently slip away into darkness as another piece of her heart died with each unborn child. This was the first time he had seen her react with such a violent passion and it scared him to leave her with Druella. But he feared more what would have happened had he not taken on the task himself. No doubt it would have been the old bat's greatest pleasure to slaughter the child in front of her daughter's eyes. It would have killed Bellatrix. Despite what he could feel his actions doing to her in that moment, he knew if she'd been forced to watch it happen there would have been no bringing her back to any semblance of sanity.
Crossing over from the edge of their estate into the woods, Rodolphus stopped abruptly as though he had been hit in the chest with a deadly curse. She was gone. One way or another he couldn't feel her anymore. He turned to look back at the Manor, desperate to know what had happened. But all was silent. There was no sign of life inside, but part of him was certain that he would have sensed death. Maybe it was some childish notion brought on by the traumatic situation he found himself in, but he was sure he would know if she died.
In his arms Cassiopeia grew tense. Instinctively he tightened his hold on her, drawing her firmly against his chest. He turned his attention to the child and marvelled, for the moment, at how his instinct to protect her remained despite what he was about to do.
Pushing the thought aside he continued on his path. He strode deeper into the woods, finding a relative amount of relief as he retreated further from his home. Not that it made what he was doing any easier. His mind was plagued with thoughts of what had happened to his beloved wife. Leaving her alone, in such a vulnerable state, with her mother had not been the smartest decision he'd ever made. Knowing Narcissa was there didn't help matters. She was still just a girl in so many ways and so terrified of her mother. There was no telling what mess he would find upon his return.
'What are you doing, Rodolphus,' he scolded himself as he kept walking, moving faster through the trees. 'She will never forgive you for this. You've lost your only child and your only love in one action. You will never be complete again.' He forced himself to ignore the reality. He couldn't have it clouding his mind if he had any hope of accomplishing his task.
A small clearing opened up before him and he stopped once more.
It wasn't a natural clearing. Tree trunks lay haphazardly on the ground, formerly burnt but now beginning to sprout new life. The irony was not lost on him. The 'clearing' had been made by Bellatrix in a fit of rage after her blood traitor sister had run away. If he hadn't caught her she likely would have destroyed the entire woodland. And now as he brought their newborn daughter to this place it seemed the fallen trees had birthed new life as well.
He looked down on the small baby in his arms and drew in a sharp breath. Big black eyes stared up at him. Bellatrix' eyes, exactly. He fell to his knees with a heavy thud, holding his daughter to his chest as he looked at her. The first thing that made him fall in love with his wife all those years ago was her eyes. She had such big beautiful eyes that seemed to light up or darken her whole face, depending on her mood. They were so unique, so undoubtedly her, that they had caught the attention of a thirteen year old boy who up until that point had thought girls were the bane of his existence.
“I can't do this,” he whispered into the empty clearing. He turned his daughter in his arms, holding her out in front of him so that her tiny feet curled together against his chest. The dark eyes looked up at the sky, though likely saw nothing but blurred colours and shapes. He lifted her slightly, meeting her halfway, as he lowered his lips to kiss her head. “Forgive me.”
Holding her carefully with one arm, he reached back to draw his wand from the holster at his hip. “Merlin, please, forgive me,” he breathed out as he pressed the wood to his daughter's neck.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
***
A swift flick of the wrist, the scratching sound of quill against parchment, and the Owl to Gringotts Bank was signed; Druella M Black. With a tight smile she replaced her quill in her handbag and turned her attention to the Healer. “You'll find your payment transferred within minutes,” she informed the woman, standing up from the table. “Good service is never hard to find if you have the right connections.”
“Of course Madam Black, thank you,” the Healer nodded, the two sharing a smile that only true conspirators could appreciate.
With one hand firmly on her hip and the other gracefully holding a glass of wine, Druella moved to the window to survey the grounds and consider what had just happened. It was all for the best, of course. She hadn't considered how a child would impair her daughter's judgment. There were far greater things laid out for her. Why be tied down with the lowly duties of motherhood when you could have the world at your feet? The Dark Lord viewed her as an asset, his finest, and she was going to throw that all away over a drooling mess.
Yes, it was all for the best.
She smiled then, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow, as she mentally applauded herself. Such instincts, such finesse... it was her masterpiece. Bellatrix was her masterpiece - a nightmare waiting to happen, a warrior at the ready, a fierce and powerful witch. With that thought she swirled the dark red wine in her glass, inhaling the rich aroma. She'd ordered the wretched House Elves to serve her only the finest wine the Lestranges had in their cellar. And it was quite exquisite. It made her wonder, vaguely, what it had been saved for. Not that it mattered at all, now that it had been uncorked.
Even from the kitchen she heard the front doors burst open. She resisted the urge to laugh as she noticed the Healer jump at the sound. The hunter had returned, and without the cry of the troublesome babe. That was good news indeed. She had to admit to herself she hadn't thought Rodolphus would pull through. He'd always seemed so devoted to Bellatrix, so determined to cater to her every whim. But finally he had shown some real masculinity. No pureblood male should kneel at a woman's feet. And it appeared, after all this time, he didn't.
It wasn't long until he had found them in the kitchen. If he was shocked to find the room looking more like some underground surgical room, he didn't show it. “It is done,” he growled, dropping a bundle onto the table beside the bloody sheets.
“You took your time,” Druella said.
His nostrils flared, but that was all the reaction he dared for the moment. Mentally he dared the older woman to turn around, to face him. He wanted her to look him in the eye and tell him what he had done was the right thing. The worst part was she would without hesitation. He knew that. “You come into my house and ask me to do away with my only child,” he spoke swiftly, remaining calm despite the anger building inside him. “I shall take all the time I wish.”
She turned then, studying her son in law with pursed lips. “Mm...” as if the sound was good enough, she turned her attention back to the window. The wine glass rested against her lips for a moment before she raised it once more to taste the sweet nectar of victory.
Rodolphus glared at her, icy blue eyes shooting daggers at the woman's back. He would gladly strangle her if he thought it would do any good. Yet everything about her only served to irritate him. Particularly the audacity she had to stand in his home as if she were Lady of the Manor. He bit his tongue, attempting to remain civil, as he studied his surroundings. “And what is this?” he asked. It was not as if he didn't have a right to know. His kitchen had not been in such a state since he'd first tried to teach Bellatrix to cook. “I leave the Estate for a short period and you turn my kitchen into a slaughter house. Should I fear for the occupants, or whomever else you've had carved up in my absence? I trust the Elves remain untouched, I would hate to have to break in new ones so soon...”
As his words suddenly faltered, Druella smirked. Had he found the prize? Had he noticed what was right in front of his nose? Now the fun would truly begin, she would see exactly what he was made of.
“What is that?” he growled, stalking towards the Healer as he pointed to the silver platter. Somewhere in his mind he knew exactly what he was pointing at, he just didn't want to believe it.
“Mister Lestrange... I...” the Healer took two steps back, walking into the wall as he advanced on her.
“Tell me what that is or, so help me, I shall curse your tongue from your throat,” he growled at the woman, his anger boiling to the surface.
The Healer's eyes were filled with fear in that moment. She glanced frantically towards Druella but the matriarch was simply watching with interest, her wine glass lingering at her lips. “It was asked of me, Mister Lestrange,” she spoke quickly, as though the slightest hesitation could bring about her ultimate demise. “It was Madam Black's wish to have your wife's uterus removed. I was only doing as I was told.”
He stumbled backward, looking as though he had just been slapped across the face.
Shock spread through him like wildfire, numbing his senses. He reached out to steady himself. As his hand rested against the table, his fingers fell against the silver tray drawing his attention to the object once more. His wide eyes took in the taut, blood-spattered muscle. The hollow womb that had, until recently, secured his only child just as an oyster protected it's prized pearl. It wasn't meant to be there. There were things in the world that he did not understand in their entirety, but there was no purpose to this action. There was no logical explanation as to why his wife's uterus had been harvested from her body.
Except that there was a reason, one that stood across from him at that moment sipping wine without a care.
Instantly he clenched his fists, looking up at his mother in law with a deadly glare. “You did this,” he spoke, his tone dark and dangerous.
“Sacrifices must be made for the greater good, Rodolphus,” Druella responded with only a slight air of annoyance. Her eyes wavered only for a moment as she noticed the Healer quickly pack up and leave. “My daughter's little set back cannot happen again. Her true path is already in place, she will rise at the Dark Lord's side, and if I have to put an end to every distraction that prevents her ascension I will do so.”
“YOU DO NOT ENTER MY HOUSE AND ACT ON MY WIFE'S BEHALF!” Rodolphus slammed his fists down hard on the table between them. He began to stalk around the table, moving swiftly towards her, his eyes trained on her like a tiger going in for the kill. “You do not rule this household, Druella, and you certainly do not rule Bellatrix. Her place at the Dark Lord's side is not a chance for you to make up for your maternal inadequacies, not that I imagine anything would. You are nothing but a heartless bitch, gradually shrivelling up inside until the day you die. Old, alone, and unloved! For you, Druella Black, know nothing but hatred and it seeps from you as you go about your day, infecting the lives of those obtuse enough to get close to you. In truth you are disease, and I will not have you in my house a moment longer!”
With her eyebrow raised and firm smirk forming on her lips, Druella's eyes glared straight back at his. She stepped towards him, challenging him, knowing he would not dare to turn on a Black matriarch. “You think you can keep me from my family?”
“You have no family here,” he snarled at her. “There is no Black residing within these walls, and there never shall be!”
“I did what was right for my daughter. That worthless spawn had no business being born...”
A sharp crack filled the room as Rodolphus swung his arm, backhanding her across the face in one swift movement. The glass she held smashed on the stone floor, the wine spilling across the surface like the blood that stained the table. “Get out of my house,” he warned her, pulling his wand from his robes.
Touching her cheek gingerly, Druella rose to her full height once more. She stood with her usual rigid posture, her eyes narrowing as she lifted her chin in defiance. “Strike me down, boy. I will have you buried beneath the very foundations of this building,” she threatened, daring to take another step.
“You will leave my house this instant and you will not return,” Rodolphus growled, refusing to back down. “I would sooner bathe in the blood of muggles than welcome you across my threshold.” He raised his wand, holding it directly at the level of her heart. As she moved to pull her wand from her sleeve in retaliation, he flicked his wrist towards the nearby shelf. A jar exploded sending shards of glass and causing Druella to flinch despite her best efforts.
A low chuckle began to rise from her throat, a deadly sound, and for the first time Rodolphus knew where his wife got it from. She took a step towards him, glass crunching beneath her boots. “Mark my words, Rodolphus Lestrange, you will rue this day,” she snarled. With a simple swipe of her hand she batted his wand away from her as she continued to move closer to him. Slowly she leaned towards him, breathing her words against his ear as though her tongue were made of ice. “You will never keep Bellatrix from me, because you've failed to realise that she is me. Your worst nightmares are coming for you and there is nothing you can do.” She pressed a mocking kiss to his cheek, before swiftly turning on the spot and disapparating.
Rodolphus wiped his hand violently across his cheek, as if he planned to skin his own face to remove her devil's kiss. Clenching his fists he let out an almighty roar, expelling all his anger to the now empty room. But it wasn't enough. He moved swiftly brandishing his wand like a whip as he took out all his frustration. Jars burst, cupboard doors flew off their hinges, and liquids painted the walls with a harshly splattered pattern. He continued to roar, the unnatural sound echoing throughout the manor.
Then as suddenly as it began it stopped.
He stood in the kitchen breathing heavily through clenched teeth, finally taking in his surroundings. His eyes came to rest on Narcissa standing in the doorway. “Bella...” he breathed out. It was all he could manage.
“Mother made sure she wouldn't remember anything,” she informed him, her voice almost a whisper. “She won't eat and she won't speak. You need to go to her.”
“I can't...”
“Rodolphus!” Narcissa shouted at him, tears falling down her cheeks as she stamped her foot. “You have to. If you don't she won't get up. She'll go to sleep and she won't wake up. If you don't go to her all of this will have been for nothing. She'll be nothing!”
He lowered his head a moment, closing his eyes. Ultimately he knew Narcissa was right. He knew how fragile Bellatrix would be and how hard it would be to bring her back to any semblance of her old self. But he had to be there for her. He hadn't left her yet and he wasn't going to start now, not when she was truly thrown into the depths of her own personal hell. Taking a deep breath, he straightened up and nodded his head firmly. His wife needed him. His love needed him. He was not about to let her drown.
***
Her mother had explained everything to her. The words she'd used were spoken with little emotion, if any at all. In the twenty eight years since the birth of her eldest child Druella Black had not once expressed any feeling towards the girl -it seemed ridiculous to break with tradition. So she had stood beside the bed and explained it all, everything that had apparently occurred over three days, and in silence Bellatrix had listened trying to force it all together in her mind. There had been a surprise attack by the Order - that much seemed obvious - but she'd been injured severely before they had a chance to escape. She'd lost some months of her memory (in fact it had taken some time to convince her that it wasn't the date she thought it was) and suffered a vicious collection of stunners to the stomach. From what they could tell she was healing at an acceptable pace, despite the memory loss, but healing was a tricky business even with the aid of a wand.
She lay staring at the tea tray on the bedside table. Steam no longer rose from the tea or the broth, she had watched in silence as the warm wisps gradually subsided, but she couldn't bring herself to move. If she moved she would feel the pain. Everything hurt. Any little move she made caused a sharp sting to shoot through her abdomen and a ripple effect of nausea flowing up to the back of her throat. So she lay on her side with one leg curled around a thick pillow, silently wishing she'd died in battle.
Across the room the door opened and she closed her eyes quickly, keeping her breathing even in hopes they would just go away. Without needing to look she could tell it was him. The knowledge alone forced an onslaught of tears to well up in her eyes and she turned to bury her head into her pillow. She knew he must have been told already. It was probably the only reason he stood in their room now, to see just how defective his wife really was.
“Bellatrix,” his voice was unnaturally soft, almost broken, as he crossed the room. Careful not to cause her any more pain, he moved onto the bed until he lay behind her. With an unspoken tenderness he kissed her shoulder as she began to cry. “Forgive me, Bella.” he whispered against her skin, words barely audible to her.
For the first time in her life she felt safe to cry, cradled in her husband's arms. She wanted to tell him she was sorry for letting it happen. There was a desperate need in her to let him know what she was feeling. Yet the words wouldn't come when she opened her mouth, instead she found herself expressing other thoughts. “I don't expect you to remain bound to me,” the pain she was feeling was evident in the tone of her voice as she turned slightly towards him. Years of conditioning forced out her resignation. “There are countless acceptable purebloods that would be willing to give you an heir. I will not question your decision.”
Almost the instant she said it he pushed himself up and turned her face to look at him. His fingers caressed her pale cheek, brushing away the path of stray tears. “If we cannot have children then I do not want them,” he told her sincerely.
“Rodolphus...”
“Belle,” his thumb brushed against her lips, silencing her. “Carrying on the Lestrange line does not rest solely on me. I love you, I want you... anything else comes second, you have to know that.”
She looked into his eyes, finding the pain she felt reflected back at her. It hadn't occurred to her that he would hurt too, for some unknown reason she'd just assumed he would toss her aside. “I'm sorry,” she whispered sadly.
“No. I'm sorry, Bella,” he lay down once more, his hand coming to rest against her abdomen. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let it happen. I'm sorry.” the desperate words were spoken between kisses as he buried his face against her shoulder, holding her close to him.
There was nothing she could say, it made no sense to her why he was apologising. So she lay quietly in his arms, letting her tears stain the pillow as she listened to his pleading voice. Her hand slipped down to lay over his. Their fingers entwined and she felt him press his hand gently against her. She closed her eyes and tried to push away all thoughts of the children she would never have. Despite what Rodolphus said she knew she'd failed him as a wife, and she couldn't help but feel as though she'd failed as a woman.
As her tears subsided, a dark haze fell over her and she was determined never to fail again.
>> Chapter Four