disclaimer : I am not J.K Rowling. The characters belong to her.
warning : not my best set of drabbles-ish pieces, there is no specific direction to it, it is literally chaos and scrambled sentences strung together, but I think that would suit Bellatrix.
smoke and mirrors
He would call her Bella with mocking lilt, an imitation of her mother's stern call. He would duck when she aims a blow for his head. "Bellatrix! You don't get to call me Bella!"
He would dance out of her reach with her wand in his hand, "When do I get one of these,Bella?"
"Give it back, you oaf!" She would snarl, running after him.
"So you can what?" Sirius would call, as if he doubted she could hurt him. "Hex me into oblivion?"
"I wish! But Reggie and your Mummy love you too much! "Bellatrix would laugh,irritation and anger laced in her mocking when she finally catch up with him and twist his arm.
"Stop it!" he would cry suddenly as if the boy was in pain, and that felt so satisfying to her. "You can have your wand, stop it!"
Bellatrix would release him abruptly, stepping back as if she didn't know what she had done. He would look up at her imposing figure, in a fury that could only be seen in a child and he would leave the room quietly.
She loved him, and she hated him, and she didn't know which one she felt stronger.
"Higher Bella!" he would say, barely seven and climbing the tallest tree in the gardens of their Manor. She would trip over her long skirt, elbows bearing scratches and he would laugh at the sight as Cissy, who was standing underneath the tree with Meda,says "He is trying to provoke you Bella! Don't get that dress dirty!"
"You can have it then!" Bellatrix would snarl, incensed.
"What is the matter, Bella?" Sirius voice would be taunting. Oh how she would like to slap the hell out of him once she reaches him! "Are you afraid your Mummy will see you?"
"Its the bloody skirt!" she would complain loudly while watching her feet as she climbed. "I keep tripping over them!"
Sirius would be sitting down on the highest branch of the tree, so unreachable, smiling. "That is your excuse? You can do better than that, can't you?"
And now she is sitting in her cell, scratching the floor of her cell with vague drawings of the Dark Arts she had learned from the Dark Lord, tasting a regret that she hadn't felt in a long time. Like patchwork, her guilt clutched together in one ball, her memories visiting her like a lucid dream. If she were free, she could throw it away and watch it implode but she is not. She is sitting in her cell, her guilt ridiculously close to her as if she wouldn't recognize herself without it even though it is the first thing she'll cast away when she is free from the confines of the cell.
And now she is standing at the edge of the island with her husband, her fingers twisting with his own wasted ones, sea spraying into their faces, standing with all others who had escaped, those who were faithful to Him.
And she laughed, no longer seeing Meda, Sirius, Regulus, but seeing Frank Longbottom clutch at her husband's feet and sob for his wife while she tortured the woman who dared to tell her the Dark Lord is finished and there won't be anything to find. She could hear herself screaming as she tortured the woman, "You are a dirty muggle loving liar! The Dark Lord will rise again! The Dark Lord will rise again!". Now, she tasted victory, just few moments away from meeting the Dark Lord who orchestrated the escape. How long had she waited for him! How long was she infested with doubts Azkaban managed to put in her head! No more, no more.
She cast everything else away.
Now she is dueling Sirius and she remembers her ball of regrets and that suffuses her hatred of him. Yet, she is feeling a strange kinship when he is taunting her, and she stops herself from calling him names like she used to when they fought.
He was laughing at her, as if the chasm and differences of the years, the acrid smell of burning of his name on the tapestry didn't exist but there was madness, a madness that ties them both. He was dodging her curses, as if it was a mere sport. "You can do better than that!"
She finally caught up with him, her spell flew straight into his chest, but the impudence, the laughter in his face is still there and she could only take little joy in the slight shock and fear. There is very little victory when there is such little fear and shock. Even with Longbottoms who met the torture with defiance, she was able to break them in the end.
There was very little victory because Sirius never fell to his knees in submission,maybe she would know then, if he had fallen to his knees and begged for his life whether she loved him or hated him.
He falls back into the veil in a graceful arch and she is standing in shock as if he had fallen out of the tree in their Manor's grounds, but no no, it was she who fell, and fell while he was laughing, she who ran after him when he dared to take her wand, he who hated her first when he flinched back from the Mark on her arm with a distaste on his face worthy of a Mudblood.
She gave a scream of triumph and despair, throwing her arms in the air as if it was a mere sport, and the voice at the back of her head that was shrieking you killed sirius, you killed sirius ! stopped and another voice spoke, filthy blood traitor got what he deserved.
And after that,her feelings settled into a cold calm. She could not afford to let herself feel this...if ridding the world of Sirius after he had shamed the family made her miss the boy and hate herself, even for a moment, she dreaded to think what she would do in front of Meda.
No, she would not fail the Dark Lord this way for the traitor.
She would beg for forgiveness at The Dark Lord's feet, not only for their failures tonight but also for Sirius.
A/N : leave a review if you like it. This wasn't originally as long as it is now, and I intended to write elaborate on the Longbottoms, but if i do it right, I'll put it up.