#ufpara

Which was why she was surprised when her mark and her mark alone had started burning in the midst of yet another search expedition. It was a desperate attempt anyway that she called to a halt before apparating to the calling point. Her body was aching and tired. She hadn’t truly rested since she was given the news. This had to be related; there was no other reason she would be called upon anymore.

Bellatrix didn’t hesitate on her way up the walk to try and right herself. Efficiency had to come before presentation in this situation, and only a few minutes had passed before she was knocking on the heavy door. When it swung open, she had to force down the mix of excitement and dread that came with seeing the room empty except for the Dark Lord. She was far from expecting Reg to be standing beside him, but that emotion was greatly conflicted with the confirmation that she had been called here alone.

“My Lord,” Bellatrix said as she moved across the room. Her footsteps echoed through the space, bare of furniture or anything else to muffle them. “How can I be of assistance?”

“It is about your cousin,” he responded simply. With a flick of his wand a pair of chairs and a table appeared, though he made no move to sit. “You may take a seat, but this should not take long.” Following his example, Bellatrix made stayed standing as well but didn’t dare make eye contact as she waited for him to continue.

“Your cousin was found attempting to desert the cause.” His words confirmed all of the suspicions she had done her best to not entertain the past weeks. Every part of her burned to ask how or where, but she knew she would only be given the answers he wanted to give her. Right now it took all of her will not to react to his scrutiny past finally looking up at him. “I trust you know the consequences for what could be regarded as attempted treason?”

“Death, my Lord,” Bellatrix replied without hesitation, but her voice lacked its usual resolve. Everything she knew seemed to be collapsing in on her. Another traitor. Another name to be wiped off the Black family tree. She couldn’t let it show, not now, not here. She couldn’t let it phase her.

“I trust you to pass the news onto your family after tonight’s meeting when the news will be presented to the rest.” 

There was one risk she could take. Even with no right to ask favors for the Blacks, she had to have something to hold onto. The past weeks had been wasted on Regulus, but this moment would not be. If it is possible, I would like to ask permission to present this to my aunt and uncle as well as the rest who will inevitably find out as Regulus having lost his life in war related causes. We cannot afford to have his involvement known.”

“Not desertion.”

“Not if you would like their continued support, something I believe will be easier if they believe one of their sons died loyal. Along with that, should the story of another blood traitor reach the press, their loyalty will not mean nearly as much.” The words stung to say, their truth weighing on her. This wasn’t supposed to happen again. Regulus was supposed to stay, and she had failed to ensure that.

“And your own loyalties?” Bellatrix stiffened at the question, her anger immediately sharpening. Directed towards her cousins, her sister, all of those who left, never the Dark Lord. It was for those who even made this a question that had to be asked.

“Unfailing, my Lord,” she said, trying to keep them from coming across as coldly as they felt.

“Very well. Of course it will still have to be presented to the others as what it is. An example has to be made.” Bellatrix nodded once, not daring to respond.

“Should you need some time in light of all of this...”  he trailed off, the words hitting her as a mockery, never compassion, that made her steal her shoulders as she had twice before in her life.

“Not for a traitor,” she responded darkly, taking it as a dismissal and turning to go. She had almost reached the door when he spoke again.

“And, Bella.” 

She grit her teeth at the nickname, always so patronizing coming from him. She hated the others for referring to her as such in these spaces over these years, but tonight her mind clung to the familiar, putting together that at some point, it meant he had picked up on it even if it was only to hold over her.

“Yes, my Lord?” she said, turning back to him.

“With that in mind, we will resume our training tomorrow at the regular time. I do hope you have not let yourself regress.” Perhaps the last part was supposed to be taken as an insult, but all Bellatrix could see was the progress. She was back. At least for one session, but it was the only opening she needed.

After leaving Mary the previous afternoon, Alecto took to distracting herself. She couldn’t think about the girl up in the attic without her irritation rising once more. For the time being, she needed to calm her mind and her determination. Arriving in her room, she sat on the bench by the foot of her bed and tried at first just to relax for a moment. Eventually, she decided to change, and went about that process, before heading downstairs for an early dinner. Amycus was in and out of the manor recently, though he didn’t seem to be present at the moment, so she ate alone, paying no mind to the servants who placed each course in front of her. In the evening, she forced herself not to think about torture in any way, shape, or form. She forgot about the delights of it, and ignored the horrors that used to plague her. Alecto worked to focus instead on her upcoming social calendar. It made for an interesting enough subject to temporarily guide her thoughts away from her day’s annoyances. Several hours later and she was dressed in her sleepwear, tucked under the comfort of her covers, and drifting off to sleep.

The next morning arrived much the same as the previous one had. She woke, cleaned, and dressed. Alecto indulged in a small breakfast, and grabbed an extra piece of toast. Once she arrived back in the attic, facing Mary for what she knew was the last time during this encounter, she walked over and dropped the break into the other girl’s lap. Mary would have to bend awkwardly to eat it, but it should’ve been possible. If she wasn’t going to kill her, she didn’t need to starve Mary to the brink of death. “I brought breakfast. Rise and shine.” She allowed a few moments to pass to see whether or not Mary would try to ingest the pathetic excuse for a breakfast. Then, it was time to get to the short plan she’d made for the day.

It was one in the morning, and Emma was thinking about hands.

Hers were, unsurprisingly, the main focus of her train of thought; her hands, tapping absently on her leg as she walking alongside a low brick wall that lined someone’s garden, even though the world was relatively quiet around her and there was seemingly little to be fidgety about. Her hands, and what they would look like if she decided to throw all the eggs of her future into one basket and agreed to wear the token engagement ring she’d been offered by Noah—who was good and kind and steady, but didn’t get her heart pounding in the way she always assumed it would when she found everything that she claimed to want.

Her hands, currently closed tightly around a file of information that she was holding onto like a life raft, despite the thinness of it.

Edgar’s hands, and the way she couldn’t help but notice that they shook slightly as he had handed it over to her.

She was walking back from Hackney now, licensed to apparate but still not a fan of the sensation, clutching the manila fold to her chest like the London air was an ocean and she was depending on it to keep afloat. She wasn’t, but it had seemed that Edgar had thought differently; they hadn’t spoken in weeks, the two of them, and she couldn’t pretend to be thrilled when she’d heard from him that night. But she’d gone, at his request, against her better judgment…even though anyone who asked would hear from her that she had the most solid judgment imaginable.

Here she was, proving herself incorrect. Here she was, head bent low as she sped up her step slightly and turned her thoughts to home, the little two-bedroom she shared with Vincent where she could curl up in bed and not have to worry about things like hands or files or the curious noise that was being carried across the wind currently, as if to remind her it was too late to be out and about. She agreed that it was well past the time to be tucked away at home; she didn’t need reminding.

It had always been her policy that secrets weren’t worthwhile to keep; they only gave others something to hold over her head, and there was usually little worth in that. But she was holding a file of secrets now, and it seemed that secrets had been more ingrained in her life than ever anticipated. From the hushed whispers at parties to the dirty business her friends were getting up to when their day jobs were over to her own inability to start a family—she’d been getting more and more comfortable keeping secrets than she cared to admit, even to herself.

Tonight, she had agreed to keep another one…but even as she promised it, she knew she wouldn’t be able to. Did that make it another secret? Or just a lie?

The attacks –the ministry, the hospital, the two villages—had shaken the entire world, and Emma was no exception to that. People wanted answers, people wanted protection. Emma wanted protection and, wholly unsolicited, Edgar had dropped some in her hands tonight, intending to make her feel safer.

Plans from the Auror department, ones that weren’t meant to be seen by outside eyes. Escape routes. Emergency protocol. Evacuations. The worst things the people in that department were willing to do to keep the worst from happening.

Emma knew the gesture was supposed to bring her peace of mind, but it felt like a grenade in her hands as she carried it down the street…because she knew it didn’t just have to mean protection for herself. She could use it, if she chose to—she certainly owed her friends more than she owed Edgar at this point, even after the gesture of goodwill. It would only be leveling the playing field, wouldn’t it? Giving information to one side that the other one already had? It wouldn’t be destruction; it would be keeping people safer, potentially. People she had grown up with, people she saw every day and would like to continue to see every day.

For so long she’d been determined to not get involved, to not choose a side…and she wasn’t really, was she? If she passed it along, it wouldn’t be an act of war; it would hardly be an act. Edgar had given her this information because he (evidently, though she still didn’t believe him) cared. Wouldn’t she, then, be within her rights to pass it along to someone she cared about, for the same reasons?

It made logical sense to her, as she played it over in her head…but if there’s one thing that she’d learned in the past few years it was that the logic she’s so soundly relied on her entire life had a tendency to not be as reliable as she imagined. It wasn’t immune to leading her astray…but she needed it to be. Just this once, she needed to trust her gut instinct. Without that, she had no idea how to go forward from this point, to keep making decisions and trust that she wouldn’t walk right off the edge of the cliff. The fear in the world could belong to the rest of the world; it was pointless, as far as she was concerned, and she was done playing into it.

She’d wanted protection, and she got it—she just didn’t know what form it would take yet.

She dropped the file onto her bedside table and didn’t think about it again for the night, eager to take up the luxury of mentally checking out while she could still afford to.

In the morning, she reached for a spare piece of parchment and scrawled a message onto it, not sure yet who the recipient would be but having a pretty solid idea forming in the back of her mind of where she wanted it to go:

The moment her feet found solid ground after apparating, Bellatrix was off towards a relatively unassuming building. One arm wrapped tightly around her ribs, sticky with blood, and the other clutching her wand so hard her knuckles were white, she hadn’t so much as had a second to think in hours. There was no choice in prioritizing the meeting over taking care of herself, but she was still going to be late. It was unavoidable.

There were not supposed to be surprises. The information had been critical, but excepting that fact, it was no different than the dozens of other intel missions she had lead. At least it wasn’t supposed to be. It was supposed to be a simple in-and-out situation, but they knew. They were expecting someone. No one was that prepared by chance. It could have been an ambush.

At some point, they had been isolated. Each one of them was up against two or three others, and Bellatrix had shifted her focus from their goal to making sure the three she was with made it out alive. Taking care of pair that had her cornered was perhaps the easiest part of her night as it was soon followed by diversions and creating openings for the others to run and apparate out.

Even now, she was unsure if she made the right decision. In his initial instructions, the Dark Lord made it clear she was to be at this meeting regardless of the consequences. Instead, she had put in one last effort to grab a bag, a roll of parchment, anything that might be of use, after she had cleared the others. Up until then, she had been relatively unscathed. She came out of it empty handed, injured, and even more behind. That move at least she could recognize as reckless.

Bellatrix didn’t bother to knock when she reached the door, no one would be there to answer it. She had to wave her wand twice before it unlocked for her, messing up the specific pattern on her first attempt. It was a mistake she couldn’t allow herself to dwell on, not with everything to come.

She paused in the entrance and took a moment to catch her breath after having all but run the entire way. It was not like the situation could be much worse.

What truly ate away at her was the stark difference between the Ministry and the events of the past couple days. Two missions assigned to her on the same day; one she completed flawlessly and the other verging on catastrophic. It didn’t seem right. It was almost designed, but no. That would mean admitting Cygnus was correct. She did not doubt his instincts were as sharp as they always had been, but it had felt so much more like a lack of faith than genuine concern.

She was out of time. There wasn’t so much as a second to spare dwelling on such trivial matters as that. She had to get to the meeting. Her leg was throbbing after putting so much pressure on it, and Bellatrix bit hard on the inside of her cheek to try and distract herself from the pain. If she was going to be late, she was not going to limp into the room.

One more second to collect herself before she pushed through the second set of doors to reveal a long table, indicating this was to be a more formal meeting. A few eyes shifted her way as she walked further into the room, but one of her fellow Death Eaters was continuing on with his report as if nothing had changed. She quickly evaluated the room, noting that almost everyone was in attendance, including those she had sent ahead of her. That wasn’t what caught her attention. Her gaze shifted to the one open seat in the room, the only seat that remained consistently empty.

The Dark Lord raised his hand at the moment, cutting off the man and effectively drawing everyone’s attention. He was staring intently at where Bellatrix stood off to the side, having chosen to remain on the outskirts rather than dare to claim a chair she had no right to. It took all of her control to remain impassive and keep from shifting uncomfortably under his clearly irritated look.

“Tardiness is unacceptable, Bellatrix,” he said slowly, each word calculated. “I thought that was understood.”

“I do apologize, my Lord,” she responded only when it was clear that he had finished. “There were unexpected complications-”

“Yet all but one of your team had arrived before we so much as sat down, and even he could be called on time.” The words stung, each one colder than the last. “Did you think that when I requested you return for this meeting, it was only for a typical report that anyone could manage?”

“I understood your intent, my Lord, I simply prioritized-”

“Under normal circumstances, you would not be allowed to stay, as you are well aware. Tonight, however, I have to make an exception. Do not make this a habit.” He motioned to the seat immediately to his right. “It is impractical for you to share what information you have from your current position.”

The anger that had been flaring with each interruption and criticism was immediately pushed away by shock. She could feel the weight of more than just the Dark Lord watching as she made her way to the front, moving as quickly as she could without revealing her injuries. By the time she sat, his attention had already shifted back to the man who had been speaking when she entered. Only just noticing she was still clutching her wand, she hastily tucked it away and rested both of her hands in her lap, finally removing the pressure from the cut on her side.

“Bellatrix.” She immediately looked over at him, on edge from combination of her remaining adrenaline and the pressure of her current position. “What do you have for us?”

“This target is far more formidable than expected,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “They seemed prepared for our arrival with approximately triple the number of people expected. We were able to get a good idea of their defenses and know how to better prepare for next time.”

“And the information?”

“Solely on their defenses, my Lord.”

“I do not recall asking you about their defenses but for what is hidden behind them.” One of the members of her team made to comment, but the Dark Lord raised a hand to make it clear his opinion was not welcome. This was her problem and hers alone.

“We will have to run a second mission in order to obtain it, but it should not be difficult as we know what we are walking into,” Bellatrix admitted. She knew she was being evasive, and when she chanced a look at Cygnus, he shook almost imperceptibly as if to confirm this was the wrong approach. Instead, it only made her temper rise again when she turned back to the Dark Lord. “That can be arranged without too much of a set back in our plans. The consequences are minor.”

“You return late, injured, and without the requested files after having wasted nearly three days. I have already made one exception for you tonight having expected you would have something valuable in return.” She opened her mouth to defend herself, but this time he waved dismissively at her. The blood loss spared her from flushing in her anger, but it was hard to miss the fact that she had tensed. 

“I do not wish to hear your weak excuses about what you did learn. By your standards, this should have been a rudimentary mission. Had it not been for the truly critical parchment I requested, I would have sent someone else,” he explained despite her being all too aware that this was the case.

“There is little I could do against over a dozen trained wizards,” she snapped. The loss of control only lasted an instant. Surely it would not go unnoticed, especially on a night like tonight, but stopping completely could not help her now. Nothing could. “With all due respect, my Lord, I had to make the decision to retreat rather than risk any of us being incapacitated or taken hostage. Once it was clear, I tried to leave with something of use, but I was overwhelmed. We were all overwhelmed.”

“That is your mistake, not my concern. It does no good to dwell on what could have happened, but your insistence to act on your own rather than with a team you chose and trusted astounds me.” His fury was far quieter than her own but infinitely more pressing. She felt small, insignificant. “This is a level of recklessness that you show time and time again.”

“I was doing what I thought was best for the whole. Had I not, best-case scenario would have involved all four of us arriving late and injured,” she said, careful to keep herself from coming across to defensive. “It may have been a misjudgment, but it was far from a desire for glory.”

“That is enough, Bellatrix.” She reeled back. It was patronizing. She was a trusted member of his inner circle, not a petulant child, but there was no way for her to demand to be treated as such. “You do not learn from your mistakes. You do not admit to your mistakes. In the past, it has not affected your work, but it can no longer be overlooked.

“I have certain expectations of those who bare my mark, and transparency is among those standards. Until you are capable of meeting them, I expect you to stay by your husband’s side where you belong. Are we clear?” he asked, almost daring her to challenge him in his condescension.

“Yes, my Lord,” she said through clenched teeth. Part of her knew what he was doing, writing her off as a burden, saying she belongs in a more traditional place rather than one she’s earned. However, the awareness didn’t help dull her anger. It coursed through her, only directed inward. She couldn’t even bring herself to be mad at Cygnus for being right. No. This was solely reserved for herself.

“Good. You may go.”

“What?” she asked, stunned by the dismissal more than anything else he had said.

"There is no seat for you here tonight.” He turned away from her, scanning the table for who was to report next.

Seething, Bellatrix didn’t dare argue, simply pushing away from the table and making as dignified of an exit she could manage after such a berating. She only made it a few steps out before she slid down the wall to sit on the floor, unwilling to apparate in her current state and waiting for someone to fill her in on what she missed when the meeting adjourned. Perhaps it was not a wise move, but she was still far from traipsing home with her tail between her legs.

She was going to get back there. She was going to regain her spot, regain his trust. She was going to truly earn the seat that she had received a taste of tonight, as bitter as it may have been.