BELLATRIX LEONIA LESTRANGE

Birthday: November 27th, 1951 Gender, Pronouns, & Sexuality: Female, She/Her, Uncertain Occupation: Socialite Housewife Unemployed Blood Status: Pureblood Previous House: Slytherin

Languages:

Fluent, Native | English, French Literate | Latin, Ancient Greek, German

Note: Bellatrix may not seem to match her canon depiction. Please keep in mind that this is a Bellatrix who has not spent over a decade in Azkaban being tortured. This is a woman who is deeply unstable, yes, with many problems, but she is not the unhinged caricature of psychosis Rowling made of a mentally unwell and abused woman. There is more depth and nuance to her. Also, I do not follow anything from Cursed Child as might relate to Bellatrix.

Where:  Borealis Cafe, Diagon Alley

Who: Alecto and Bellatrix ( @noiretranger​ )

Alecto and Bellatrix were really a pair that most people would probably assume would not get along. But the pair were actually more alike than most people thought. Alecto really enjoyed the time she got to spend with Bellatrix. She had looked up to the older woman for a long time, and often aspired to be like her. Of course, Alecto did realise that would never truly happen. She really was not able to control her magic enough to ever be as good a fighter as Bellatrix. But she enjoyed her presence none the lesson. They often would get brunch together. It was a welcome break for Alecto from the bossing around of her workers.

Today she was sat in Borealis Cafe, reading through the menu as she awaited the arrival of Bellatrix. She would probably get the same thing that she always did, but she’d look at the menu anyway.

.

“Why do you bother, Ale?” There was something fond to Bellatrix’s sharp smile as she settled in the seat across from the younger woman. “You must have the whole menu memorized, despite only ever getting a single thing.” IT was a usual, favored haunt, after all, with not many other places being suitable for a proper coze between people of a certain standard.

Where: Flourish and Blotts Who: Bellatrix Lestrange @noiretranger

Andromeda didn’t often have time alone, but when she did she loved going to Flourish and Blotts to browse all of the books. It brought her back to when she was at Hogwarts, and when things were simpler. She couldn’t say that she was happier when she had been at Hogwarts, but she couldn’t deny that it had been a simpler time. Things had seemed easier…she hadn’t had to make hard decisions at Hogwarts. She and Ted had been happy together, even if they had to hide their love from the rest of the world. Ever since she had run into Narcissa and Rodolphus, she hadn’t been able to get their conversations out of her head. She felt guilty for leaving Narcissa, for putting Bellatrix into that situation. It was her fault. But there was nothing that she could do to change that, she knew that. 

Ted had noticed that she was quieter then usual and he had insisted that she go take some time for herself. It was a nice gesture, but a part of her felt completely lost in her thoughts, which was the opposite of what she wanted. At least Dora and Ted kept her busy and that in turn kept her mind off of everything that had happened. Rounding the corner, she bumped into someone.

“Oh, i’m so sor…” she trailed off as she made eye contact with Bellatrix. It was startling, running into her. Did she know about her conversation with Narcissa? Rodolphus? How was it that she managed to avoid them all for years but now she suddenly was running into them all over? “Bellatrix,” she finally said. What did you say to your older sister that she had disappointed so much and  put her into a terrible situation?

One of the unavoidable facts of life for a Elite Pureblood Wife was how interminably dull it was. With no expectation of work (and certainly no need to work), ones days could turn into a grey melange of nothingness very quickly. Oh, plenty would classify themselves as “Socialites” and putter about planning parties and get togethers and organizing charities and generally being seen and seeing and judging, but even all of that was so incredibly empty. Bellatrix was, supposedly, one of those society wives, but while she easily fit in at such parties, only an idiot would ask her to plan one, and organizing for charity would go over even less well.

Part of her envied Narcissa, who at least had Lucius and his political career to manage and orchestrate to keep herself less than bored, even if that seemed as if it would get dull and irritating quickly. Maybe that was why those Pureblood wives had such an obsession with children. Something to fill their empty days with.

—Bellatrix doubted she’d ever get as bored as to really consider that.  

Instead she did things like this; vaguely meander through Diagon Alley in a vague imposing and menacing way, buying whatever caught her eye. Flourish and Blotts was especially good for that. While Bella didn’t consider herself bookish or even particularly inclined to reading, there was something delightful about the variety of colors and pictures on offer. Like candy that wouldn’t rot her teeth. Plus there was the endless potential to them.Potential for what, she wasn’t sure, but it was there!

This time it proved to be ‘Potential for too casual reintroductions to festering wounds one was deeply dedicated to ignoring’, in the form of a woman she wasn’t sure she could claim as sister anymore. Andromeda had soundly rejected her after all, and if Andromeda didn’t want to claim her of be claimed, Bella would respect that.

Rod noted Bella’s fingers curling around his wrist, he wished that she would have mad more of an effort to keep up the façade by taking his hand even if it was simply to squeeze it tightly. But he didn’t fight it for once, not only because they were in public, but as to not upset her. “I am”, he answered, his smile more genuine and soft. He had ended up enjoying himself, aside from his run in with his former betrothed, he’d surprisingly found the festival pleasant. Looking back at Bella he’d noticed the painted mark on her cheek. Reaching out the man took his wife’s chin in his hand to get a better look at the painting. “I take it you had fun with Draco.”

.

Was touching him not enough? And now he was touching her, making Bella go still under his fingers, inhaling briefly. This soft concern, the interest and consideration from him—she didn’t trust there to be much to it. Oh, perhaps he was being sincere, but his sincerity could run the depth of a puddle not even deep enough to drown in. Hence holding on to her wariness. 

This day was burned into Bellatrix’s soul.

Twenty-two years ago she had fallen asleep, curled around Andromeda, only slightly more understanding of what all the fuss about Aunt Walburga meant, apathetic to the tension and and anticipation that had ruled the house since the first owl had arrived and been breathlessly read by her parents, in that way children could be towards anything not centered on them after about five minutes. He was coming, apparently; Bellatrix though he was taking an awfully long time, and it was dreadfully rude of him. Apathetic or not, it was exhausting to be around, and so the two Black sisters had slumped together, stealing the moments of their Mother’s distraction to forget their posture lessons for a moment, eventually stolen away by Morpheus.

         She fell asleep a princess.                She woke up dethroned.

Her parents gently informed of her new cousin who would usurp everything she had been for nearly nine years and better fill the spot than she ever could. Bellatrix was all the happier for it. Let Sirius Orion Black have the title of heir, let him take on some of those burdens—but not all of them, because now he was her burden, hers to take care of as much as Drommy was, as much as Mother’s Baby. The squalling, pinched faced and slightly puce bundle wasn’t pretty and kind of smelled, but he was Bellatrix’s and even before she was told she had to, she knew she would give her whole life for him.

Now, twenty-two years later, Bellatrix awoke and felt the fading echos of an ache in her chest, the one that wanted to have a party to look forward to; a party with too much alcohol and too many sweets and noise that would likely get them yelled at for the disturbance but it would be fine because they’d all be together, united, celebrating one of their own, and no one would really dare challenge them all.

Instead there would be no party. No laughter. Only a great big emptiness stretched out before her, the vacuum pulling painfully at raw edges where bits of her soul had been torn away.

x

He’d left Bellatrix still uncertain if he would meet up with her at the face painting station. However, after running into Andromeda and loosing his inhibitions with a few drinks the man though it would probably be best to make another appearance with his “family”. After all, the conversation with his ex fiancé had made him a bit more appreciative of his wife. Even if just slightly. It took Rod a little longer then it would have normally to locate the face painting station, the drinks he had with Celeste slowing his canter, but alas he spotted a mess of black curls he could recognize anywhere unfortunately. “Bella, darling”, he spoke almost as if their last interaction hadn’t even occurred. “Enjoying yourself I hope.”

.

Bella was genuinely surprised to find her husband calling out to her, a smile on his face as he approached. Not because he was smiling, no, that was standard for him in public, or the slight stagger to his step—that too wasn’t so unusual when he was being forced into something unpleasant that he had to keep smiling through. No, the surprise that raised her eyebrows and made the bat painted on her cheek dance was for how he was here at all. Sincerity wasn’t one of Rod’s strong points.

𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞; 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝. There was something so truly sad about the words spoken. Merely a child and yet able to see thestrals carrying the carriages toward the school. Yet there was also a hidden wonderment. For them all magic truly began when seeing the wonderous creatures only when learning of their care methods. How many, she wondered, had seen those winged horses of death before they’d even set foot into the school that was going to be their home for years to come?

“That’s pretty early on.” Emmeline couldn’t help but wonder what had been the triggering point. Once again her eyes drifted out of the carriage, letting the landscape fly by as she observed. Despite everything, the look alone almost gave her an idea of the wind on her skin. A smile, small yet present. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand if it’s supposed to be a gift or something bad. I personally don’t understand why everyone considers these creatures a bad omen, though. Isn’t death part of it all?” 

Not everyone was able to escape the sight of it. Somehow the witch had a feeling sooner or later in life almost everyone would be able to turn and see the dark horse rather than a magically emptiness.

Bella had endured too many hours of lessons in comportment and social graces to shrug in response to the blithe comment about her early sight of the thestrals, but there was a hint of something tight and dismissive about the edges of her smile. As much as class and elite snobbery was the background of childhood, there had been the inescapable thread of brutality there too. Maybe the elder generation got better about hiding it after Bellatrix’s misadventures, for she’d never heard the others speak of it, or maybe it was just another one of those things Bellatrix didn’t know about those closest to her.

“As much a part of it all as fire is; people are still afraid of getting burned,” she pointed out. “I’m not sure anyone is comfortable contemplating their own end.” Even if doing so was the logical thing to do; considering the wizarding war was in the middle of a war that would consume them all, one way or another, it was the most logical thing to do. But logic rarely came much into it, she found.

x

Agreeing to marry you and tolerating your repugnant personality, for one. However he dared not say it out loud. Not in public at least. Her words churned an anger inside of him. If they’d been at home there was a good chance he’d have lost his temper, but they weren’t at home unfortunately. Thankfully the carriage came to a stop as it seemed they were back at the beginning. Standing, Rod smoothed the creasing in his suit jacket before looking back over to Bella. “I’m going to walk around.” The man looked around, to make sure that others were leaving before he continued. “I wish you’d join me, but if you’re content to sit here and wallow in self pity, who am I to stop you.”

-

The sole self-pity that Bellatrix was wallowing in was that Draco had been reclaimed by his parents and thus she was deprived of much superior company than Rodolphus’s. Everything else she might pity herself over was simply a fact of her life as the eldest Pureblood daughter of an ancient house, and she was so long resigned to the necessity of duty over personal happiness in that as to be immune to pity. Leaning forward, she grinned at him. “Go find someone more susceptible to your bullshit, Rodolphus,” she said in saccharine tone. “If, for once in your life, you’re sincere, maybe I’ll see you at face painting. Else I’ll see you at home.”

𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡, 𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬. There was truth in them in a way that she simply couldn’t deny. Looks were often a much more complicated thing and hardly ever easy to decipher. The witch herself had found herself second guessing a look given by another more than once in her life. “You’re right.” There was a first for everything, it seemed.

Emmeline forced herself to relax just a little bit more, the previous tension replaced by a lesser one yet one all the same. For just a second she allowed herself to remember that moment. “For about seven years now. I was eighteen when I first saw them.” A sigh. “Funny how I always thought the carriages to Hogwarts were simply enchanted. Seems silly looking back.” Her eyes drifted back to Bellatrix. There was a question she wanted to return and yet it felt odd to do so.

A deep breath. She could do it. “How long have you been able to? See them, I mean.” Clearly the other witch could see them. Somehow part of her didn’t want to guess why.

Of course she was right. Despite what some might want to believe, Bellatrix wasn’t an idiot. Perhaps schoolwork hadn’t been one of her strengths, but the inability to write a twelve inch essay on the magical theory behind a bubble stream charm did not correlate to stupidity.

Enchanted carriages that pulled themselves would be more sensible, of course. But why be sensible when one could be extravagantly impractical? No, better to keep a herd of living animals that had to be cared for, and hope you could find a caretaker with both the skills to do the job and the ability to see their charges. Really, the assumption of self-pulling carriages was entirely reasonable in a world of magic. Just not the most culturally accurate one.

Not having disturbed the thestrals came as a relief. They were too beautiful to ruin the experience with a screaming child - her own screaming child no less. “Gorgeous creatures, aren’t they?” She questioned. “I can only hope she isn’t cursed with seeing them from a young age.”

Pandora’s gaze rested on Luna. Her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly at having found a position that seemed to calm her down. Now if she could just get her to sleep. “Six months,” She added with a small smile. “Already started crawling and I’m not ready for whatever comes next.”

Bellatrix stared at the woman. She supposed it was a good thing to hope for, but it was such a strange thing to simply come out and say, given the heavy implications behind it. “Hopefully not,” she agreed faintly. “Though cursed may be a strong word for it. In some legends they’re meant to be comforts to those who can see them.”

☣

Ivy hadn’t had any idea how she managed to find herself lost in the corn maze. Bits of her memory had become a little hazy. She’d finished work and decided to sit down for a drink before heading out into the happy and joyous festival. But one drink turned into two, and two turned into many and now, here she was. Drunk in the early evening, and hopelessly lost in the fucking corn maze.

She wondered how long she’d even been in there. It felt like days, but Ivy knew it likely wasn’t very long. Just her drunk brain making everything seem worse than it actually was. Although she hadn’t seen another person in quite some time, maybe she should have followed the rest of the crowd instead of choosing the road less traveled.

Her boots felt heavy as she stomped away from another dead end, turning around only to finally see another human being. Two of them, actually. A sigh of relief fell from her, and she waved at Bellatrix, who likely wasn’t happy to see her, but Ivy was happy not to be alone anymore. And with a baby strapped to her chest, hopefully Bellatrix would stay a little more civil than she usually was. “You might not be lost, but I certainly am.” Ivy laughed slightly, silently designating Bellatrix to be her walking partner until they made it out of the maze. “What way to get out? That one’s a dead end.”

.

Ivy Parkinson may have been someone’s idea of the perfect rescuing angel, but she was not Bellatrix’s. Especially when she seemed to be staggering slightly under the weight of intoxication. What a dreadful example to be setting for the children. Curling her arms around Draco on her chest, Bellatrix bit back her scowl as the woman fell in next to them. Clearly she expected company on the journey out.

“Then not that way,” Bella said crisply, turning to take the opposite fork of the path. Glancing at the woman, she modified her pace to make sure she could keep up, though she didn’t go so far as to walk half off the rough path; Parkinson was perfectly fine, but Bella didn’t feel close enough to the woman to get herself repeatedly smacked by corn stalks just so she could walk shoulder to shoulder with the woman.

This woman. There was only so much of her insubordination that Rod could take. Feisty was one thing, being downright disagreeable was another. With his jaw clenched he let a huff of air out his nose. “Perhaps you should be a bit more grateful, a bit more pleasant.” Maybe then I could find it in me to treat you as you desire.

-

Bellatrix could have helped her disbelieving, mocking laugh—if she had wanted to. But she’d had enough of his petulance for one day, and if he wanted to keep pushing, she wasn’t going to continue holding back for politeness sake.

“Grateful? For what. What do I have, from you, that I ought to be grateful for?” A respectable name? She had a better one as a Black. A nice home?  She had money enough to purchase one of her own, if she hadn’t wanted to linger in her parent’s any longer. An attentive, caring, respectful husband who wasn’t hung up on her sister near a decade on from being resolutely told, in actions if not words, that she didn’t want him?

Kingsley & Open Rosa Lee Teabags 5th October - Afternoon

Kingsley felt like he had to put in some kind of appearance at the festival, if only to continue that community building his father talked about so often. It was important for people to feel like their politicians were one of them - went to the same events, drank the same drinks, liked the same sports - and so Kingsley had taken that advice to heart. He wandered the stalls aimlessly, all charming smiles and meaningless chit-chat his only goal. It was tedious, but he was good at it.

Upon spotting the tea stall he decided he deserved a break, and meandered over to order a cup. Kingsley considered himself a tea connoisseur, in that he drag far too much and had an appreciation for the unusual. Selecting a flavour called “pumpkin smoke” he looked around for somewhere to sit in the busy seating area. 

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?”

~

Bellatrix had chosen poorly from the list of available teas; in her defense, the entire menu had been the reassembled remains of a list of autumn-themed words, thrown against a way and pieced together in a jumble. “Autumnal Maple Spice” hadn’t been the worst sounding, but she was willing to bet it was one of the worst tasting. At least it could provide some warmth as she hunched over it, fingers curlers around the ceramic to soak up the escaping heat. The chill of the day was starting to creep in around the edges of her warm robes, and with her disappointing cup of tea in hand, her irritation was starting to climb.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to make his wife happy. He’d done everything he was actually capable of, remembering anniversaries and birthdays, giving presents. But when it came down to it he never had been able to get over her sister, despite how he tried, and it was clear Bella knew it. He was sure that one just one of their bigger problems. 

When she let go of his hand the man took a moment to stretch it out before looking back to her. Watching her stare out at the scenery made him feel a wave a guilt. She looked so… It was hard to place. Unhappy was the only thing that could come to mind, though he knew it went deeper then that. “Perhaps I should join you”, he asked. “After all, I am trying to spend time with you.”

.

Turning slowly to fix him with a deceptively placid look, Bella stared at him and wondered how much of his own faff he believed. “You are trying to be seen with me. Which is not the same thing.” He wanted it all on his terms, for one. “Which we have done. The lovely couple, sitting together in the carriage after a day spent with family. You’ve quite fulfilled the duty of appearing an attentive husband, well done. No one will blame you if you go home. You’d hardly enjoy having a pumpkin painted on your cheek, anyway.”

x

There was a genuine smile that spread across his face when his wife dig her nails into his hand. It was one of the qualities that he greatly enjoyed, one of the only things that he found attractive on her. She could be so feisty. Rod swallowed when her nails dug deeper into him. He didn’t mind pain, not one but, though he did enjoy causing it more then receiving.  Leaning closer to her Rod pressed his lips against her wild black curls. “If you insist on trying to harm me”, he whispered. “Perhaps we should go somewhere more private?”

Bella gripped his hand tighter, imagining peeling strips of flesh from his arm. “Only if you want to lose your cock,” she whispered back, fighting back the wave of annoyance. Ignoring the something deeper that rippled in response to his kiss was so habitual by now that she didn’t even realize it was there. Letting go of his hand, she slid away from him on the bench, pressing against the side of the carriage as she leaned out to look at the bespelled scarecrows, with their mocking rictus, as they waved slowly at the passersby.