By: TiffanyRuth
She knew that people talked. They said she’d become insane; that the Dark Lord had morphed her into a cold-hearted killing machine. Insane though she was, it had nothing to do with the Dark Lord. It was already four o’clock in the morning, and she was still waiting up for her husband. She walked over to the window and pulled the curtain back ever so slightly. The street was empty. Bellatrix collapsed on top of a nearby chair and took off her boots.
It’s no use any more, she thought dismissively. The table was set and the candles were lit; she sighed and stood up, changed into her night gown, and put his dinner in the trash. Bellatrix attempted to eat her own helping of shepherd’s pie, but the knot in her stomach was too big to allow any passage of food. She cried out of emptiness, just as he walked through the door.
‘Where were you?’ she demanded.
‘None of your goddamn business,’ he spat venomously. He was clearly drunk. It was hardly the time to pick a fight, but she had been lonely and worried all night.
‘So it’s like that again? What the hell were you doing out so late, without leaving so much as a note?’
‘Don’t you take that tone with me,’ he snapped. ‘Where is my dinner?’
‘It’s three o’clock in the morning, and you’re claiming that you haven’t had anything to eat?’
‘I didn’t ask what time it was,’ he growled, swinging at her with a closed fist. Bellatrix ducked just in time; it happened all too often for her to be caught off guard.
Bellatrix cursed loudly. ‘That’s it. I’m leaving.’
The most feared witch in the world was stuck in an abusive relationship, unable to be respected by the man whom she most wanted respect from.
‘And where do you expect to go?’ he asked, grinning coldly.
‘To my sister’s.’
‘Your sister? Like Lucius would want a piece of filth like you inside of his house…’
‘Stop talking down to me. I am not a child!’
‘Yeah?’ he sneered. ‘Then why are you down there crying?’
‘Stop it-‘
‘Exactly,’ he said. He opened up the ice chest, and took out a cold beer. ‘Where’s my food?’
Bellatrix flicked her wand, and a serving of that evening’s meal appeared on the table. He sat and ate at the empty table, and she stalked over to the bed and went to sleep.
When he was finished with his meal, he laid down besides her and kissed her on the top of her head--his way of saying, ’Sorry, I ruined our anniversary.’. He then rolled over and hugged his pillow tightly. She laid there and sobbed tears that had no meaning, because she’d become so numb. Numb to life, numb to death, numb to war.
When she woke up in the morning, he wasn’t there. Bellatrix looked to her side. An open bottle of wine and a half-eaten dinner sat on her table, opposite a white robe and mask. She hung her head in shame. Oh, the lengths she'd gone to please him. But the robe and the mask still weren't quite enough.
'Who the hell do those bloody Mudbloods think they are?'
At this, Bella remembered coughing nervously and trying to avoid the situation. She thought that her response was something along the lines of, 'Maybe following the Dark Lord isn't such a good idea,' but she was half -wasted at the time, so she couldn't be too sure. All she remembered was the piercing green light as she performed her first Unforgivable Curse, and the little redemption she got when he kissed the top of her head.
'They're Mudbloods, baby. Forget about it," he said to her.
That didn't stop a tear from running down her cheek. And that didn't prevent him from slapping her.
'You can't feel sympathy for them. They're not worth the air they breathe.'
She rubbed her forearm in pain, taking another shot of vodka. A skull was burnt into her arm. That wasn't enough, either.
'You have the mark, now do something with it.'
A Muggle orphan stood cornered in an alleyway, shaking. Bella stood silently as her statuesque fiancé cursed loudly at the little boy, calling him filthy, kicking his shins.
'Stop!' she protested, but he spat in her face, calling her a traitor. He punched her square in the jaw. Blood ran down a quickly swelling lip.
'What would the Dark Lord say if he saw you now, cowering here like a wretched fool? What's stopping you from killing him, Bella?'
She only whimpered as he spoke down to her.
'What is it?' he snarled viciously. 'Do you pity him? The Dark Lord won't pity you. I know I won't.'
'I- look at him, he's crying.'
But yet another blow, this time to the side of her torso, sent her reeling.
'Treason!' he taunted. 'Do it, you slut.'
The little boy's eyes opened wide when she withdrew her wand.
Are you a… a… a sorceress?'
'Crucio!'
And she didn't watch as the boy screamed, but buried her head in her hands, singing on 'la' loudly enough to block out his cries for help. He was innocent. His only sin that night was asking a handsome couple for change to buy his bread.
'You'd better keep yourself in check,' he cautioned her only moments later. 'I wouldn't want to see that gorgeous body of yours in the ground.' He grabbed her by the waist and took the cigarette from her mouth. She took a swig from his beer, feeling ill at ease. But it was enough, right? A murder for a lover. At least that's what she had reasoned when he took her home. At least that's what she felt when he took complete control of her body, touching her in places she wouldn't let anyone else see. Old. Worn. Empty.
She remembered asking the Lord what had become of her that night as she humbled herself in prayer. His response was that she'd been caught off guard by a sinful world. His antidote was simple, as he told her to repent before she was drawn too far in.
All thoughts of heaven or hell pushed aside, she liked how it felt when he acknowledged her. When he was proud of what she had done, when he said just the things she wanted to hear.
She sat still in her empty apartment, reliving the past. Remembering a time where life wasn't so hard. When her fingers weren’t stained with cigarettes and there wasn't always a hint of vodka lingering on her breath.
She knew that people talked. They said she’d become insane; that the Dark Lord had morphed her into a cold- hearted killing machined. Insane though she was, it had nothing to do with the Dark Lord.
It had everything to do with Rodolphus, who wasn’t even home to warm her bed.