to Charli (otherwise known as Heiress to the Blacks/Acid Nickels): just to say there's a bit of Roddie in there:) (and more than that, of course)
We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. - Oscar Wilde
Hell is other people. -Jean-Paul Sartre
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to hell.
The night is chilly but Bellatrix does not tremble in the slightest, as she rushes past alleys, past yowling black cats and rumpled beggars, sniffling haughtily.
(She has gone far past the red and green strings of light and pine trees.)
The blackest night shall darken all souls, shall be the puppeteer of every good heart. All shall welcome oblivion, at the very end; it will be a mercy from the eternal hell of purest evil.
This is the blackest night, all right. Yet it was covered in a blanket of snow, snow so white it hurt her eyes. But Bellatrix has long forgotten her childhood, her family, and merely remembers this line. She enters the dark cavern, and strides confidently toward the eerie green light at the middle.
She brushes past a gift-holding Rodolphus, and toward the Dark Lord. "My Lord," she rasps, a gleeful smile illuminated in the emerald-green light, "It is done. The McKinnons are dead."
"Good, good," a high cold voice comes, "Your work will be rewarded."
"My Lord, no reward as high as your praise and honour-" Bellatrix begins, but Voldemort waves a hand dismissively, calling "Nott!"
A small, weedy-looking figure steps out from behind the shadows. "Yes, My Lord?" he addresses meekly, twiddling his thumbs and looking rather doubtful. "Bring Bellatrix to the central arena of the cavern." Nott obeys quickly – Bellatrix notes his efficiency and swiftness, then follows him over to what looked like a pot of liquid.
"The very finest," Voldemort smirks, and as Bellatrix paused, he continues, "I've conjured up Desiri. Look into the water, Bella, and tell me what your greatest desire may be."
Bellatrix obliges, and looks down at the potion. Its slow, bubbling black fluid immediately transforms.
She hurls a snowball at little Andromeda, shrieking with laughter as the younger girl tries to pummel them back, but desperately failing, and giggling along with her elder sister.
She sits there and watches Narcissa write, admiring her youngest sister's perfect fingers curve as beautiful calligraphy forms itself on the blank white parchment
She chats with her mother – really chatting, and not just arguing or cursing, or whatever they usually do nowadays, and they are smiling and chuckling, like old friends in Gryffindor or some other loser House. (Except she is not thinking that now.) And they wish each other a Merry Christmas, in the candlelight.
And with her family, gazing at stars and snow and remembering Christmases with light and hope and joy.
These memories come flowing back in torrents, and she blinks away tears, and in order to not face her master, she turns her head left, allowing a curtain of sleek black hair to cover her heavy-lidded brown eyes.
No, I can't do this.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Rodolphus skulking in the corner, still holding the wrapped present in his hands, a Merry Christmas held between his lips (it would never be said) and finally dropping it on the stone floor with a clang, resigned.
She was so joyful that day they were married, she and Rodolphus, the day she became a Lestrange - it made everyone happy: her parents, the Lestrange parents, Rodolphus maybe - but that was before – but - now, master – what is joy?
(It is honour, from the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord only.)
She turns back to the pot, and looks down again, her eyes hard as granite, mouth set in a straight, grim line.
She sees herself at Voldemort's knee, him smiling down at her, like he was God and she his loyal servant – him calling her his best, most faithful –
(No more Christmas and hope and light – she has gone too far-)
And glances back at the hem of his robes.
(For this is where she truly belongs.)
-Written for Bonnidolle's (The Blackest Night) Challenge.
Disclaimer: Bellatrix Black/Lestrange, dark caverns, Rodolphus Lestrange, the Dark Lord (aka Voldemort/You-no-poo), the McKinnons, Nott, the Black sisters' family (featuring Cygnus and Druella Black, Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa) belong to the great JKR. (And You-no-poo belongs to Fred and George.)
this title is taken from this famous quote (again, thanks to Gaby): the path to hell is often paved with good intentions.,
Thanks to Rabbi & Gaby for betaing/helping. huggles
(no bribe or threat this time, because I believe you already know what to do!)
Leave a review please! ;)