Chapter Text
Bellatrix lived to please her parents. Seeing them smile - a rare occurrence - and looking at her with pride fills her with joy. From the moment they raised their heads, a silent approval among family that are too focused on an annoying child who wouldn’t stop crying after she tripped little Sirius over, she knew exactly what she needed to do. Bellatrix needed to be everything and more than her parents expected, not from her, but from a male heir. Even from such a young age, she could tell that her parents hated that she was a girl, hated that their child wasn’t the heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. She was desperate to prove herself worthy. Worthy of their love, pride, attention. So, she was cruel. She observed her parents, analysing how they interacted with other people - those they respected, and those they didn’t. And she treated her peers accordingly. It only took her a few years to no longer rely on thinking ‘what would her parents do?’, not hesitating to do what she wants, which, to no one’s surprise, is exactly what her parents want from her. Bellatrix was the perfect child.
Yet she wasn’t the favourite. That was clearly precious little Andy. Andy, who was soft-spoken, had a wide, beautiful smile and walked around the house with all the grace of Black women. She was everything her parents wanted in a daughter. The complete opposite of who Bellatrix is, and a constant reminder of what she could have been if she focused more on what she was expected to be rather than appeasing her parents' fantasies of having a son. But it’s too late to change who she is now. Not that she would anyways, even if Andy is the favourite (which is honestly unfair since she doesn’t do anything remarkable really), Bellatrix is still adored by her parents. Her cunning, her ruthlessness, her cruelty. They love that about her.
Bellatrix was ten years old when she first thought that just because her parents love those things about her, doesn’t necessarily mean that they love her. Now that Cissy is starting to grow up, they have seemingly forgotten about the eldest child. Bellatrix loves her sisters, she would do almost anything for them, but it’s hard not to feel jealous of the affection they receive from their parents.
Her behaviour became more extreme after that, all to get her parents to pay attention to her. And it worked, for a short while. But they soon got bored of Bellatrix doing the same things. She’s got a year until she goes to Hogwarts and can learn new things; she dreams about what she can get up to when she is allowed to do magic, so she’s goes to her family’s library. Bellatrix has always hated reading books that didn’t have more pictures than words in, but she gently runs her hands over the leather books as she peruses the shelves, eventually finding a book on the Dark Arts. A good place to start.
By the time she boards the Hogwarts Express, her head held high as other purebloods she recognises from her parents' parties stare at her in awe, Bellatrix knows more about dark magic than most of the seventh years. In theory, that is. She hasn’t had a chance to practice yet, but she’s on her way to her own personal laboratory filled with plenty of rats to experiment on. This is going to be the best seven years of her life.
***
Academically, Bellatrix is adequate at best. Except at Defence Against the Dark Arts, which she consistently gets O’s in. Not from a lack of trying, she’s just not good at things she doesn’t care about. She doesn’t care about her grades, but she can’t stand the look of disappointment from her parents when she gets anything below an Exceeds Expectations.
Letting out a frustrated huff, Bellatrix shoves her books and parchment in her bag, unable to even think about Potions and ingredients and the theory behind it all any longer. As she leaves the library, a familiar voice, a whisper barely audible in the silent corridor gets her attention. She follows the sound, standing before her sister hiding in an alcove with a boy.
Bellatrix smirks as she points her wand at the boy, watching as he detaches his lips from Andy’s, yelping at the sudden stinging sensation.
“Bella!” Her sister yells.
“What?” She lowers her wand. “It’s just a little fun.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Ted,” she pecks him on the cheek.
Bellatrix scowls as he leaves, only just noticing the yellow uniform. “A Hufflepuff, Andy? I thought you knew better than that; they’re all mudbloods and blood traitors!”
“Don’t be so judgemental. Ted is sweet and he cares about me. I care about him.”
“Mother and Father wouldn’t approve.”
“I don’t care. They can’t tell me who I can and can’t be with, that’s not fair.”
“That’s being born in this family,” Bellatrix bites out through gritted teeth. Can’t she see she’s only trying to help? But it’s hard not letting her resentment show, especially when Andy is being so ungrateful. “You need to learn that life is not like those romance novels you read. It’s painful and you don’t always get what you want. True love doesn’t exist. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can stop letting stupid Hufflepuff’s who can’t offer you anything distract you from what really matters.”
“Oh, and what is it that really matters, hm? Spending your entire life sucking up to Mother and Father? Being cruel to anything that breathes? Being miserable?” Andy takes a deep breath, speaking more softly, “You are miserable, Bella. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happy and I hate that. You’re my sister, I want you to be happy. That won’t happen with you being our parents' pawn.”
“You don’t know that,” her voice comes out strained, betraying her true feelings. Bellatrix swallows and tilts her chin up, “I am happy. I am not happy that you are choosing some random teenage boy over your family, who truly love you.”
Andy scoffs, “That’s not love, Bella. That’s control. They only want to control us, to make us into the perfect wife and bear a perfect heir.”
“That’s not-”
“It is true, and you know it. Besides, Ted is not just a stupid crush, I love him, and despite everything, he loves me.”
“I see,” she nods her head, her gaze hardening as she looks at her sister’s glassy, red-rimmed eyes, tears not yet fallen. “You’ve made your choice then.”
“Bella-”
“Goodbye, Andromeda.” She pushes past the girl who’s become a stranger to her, forcing away the stinging in her eyes. Black’s don’t cry. Black’s don’t show weakness.
How could Andy choose a boy over her own sister? Bellatrix knows she hasn’t been the best to her, but she’s never been cruel, not to her. She’s protected her from their parents' unrealistic expectations as best she can. She chuckles to herself, that severely backfired. She’s only gone and lost one of the most important people in her life.
Walking aimlessly through the corridors, her breathing starts to become less erratic, and she becomes more attuned to her surroundings. And she hears a second pair of footsteps behind her. Footsteps that follow her for a few minutes.
Bellatrix turns a corner and spins around, grabbing the person trailing her by their robes when they come into view, slamming them against the wall. A girl about her age looks back at her, not in fear at the wand pressed to her throat, but in annoyance.
“Let me go,” the blonde says. “You’re crumpling my robes.”
She presses the tip of her want further into her skin, her grip on her clothes tightening. “Who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that?”
“Who do you think you are?” she retorts.
“I’m Bellatrix Black, as I’m sure you are aware. Now, tell me who you are and why you were following me.”
“You looked upset so I thought I’d check on you and see if you’re okay, which was a big mistake.”
Bellatrix looks into her green eyes and is impressed; she would believe that lie if she didn’t know better. Her eyes briefly flicker to the girl’s lips, painted a garish shade of red that she’s sure would only ever look good on her. And it does, look good.
She takes a step back when she becomes overly aware of how close they are standing, their chests almost touching. “Don’t ever follow me again or I won’t hesitate to curse you,” and walks away, pushing the memory of having her against the wall out of her mind, completely forgetting about her.
***
Bellatrix can’t forget her. Around every corridor and in the Great Hall, she sees a familiar head of blonde curls. Either she’s stalking her or Bellatrix is seeking her out in a crowd. It doesn’t matter which, because quite frankly, she’s had enough of her thoughts being consumed by a certain Slytherin.
But as annoying and confusing as those thoughts are, it is a welcome distraction from thinking about her traitorous sister, who apparently is no longer hiding her relationship with that Hufflepuff. That mudblood. What would their parents think? What would they do? It’s not her problem anymore.
Sighing, Bellatrix enters the abandoned classroom she coined as her own personal training room, the air heavy with the dark magic she’s been practising. The door behind her creeks open and she doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s standing behind her - if her sickly sweet perfume wasn’t a giveaway, it’s obvious just who fate would send into her safe space.
“I thought I told you not to follow me again,” Bellatrix says, her tone dripping with venom.
“What can I say?” Rita responds. “I like a bit of danger.”
Fuck, she can’t do this. Her heart pounding in her chest at those words, she whirls around, and is startled by just how close they are standing. Bellatrix’s breath hitches, but thankfully the other doesn’t seem to notice, too busy meeting her glare with the same ferocity. Most people run a mile when she looks at them like that, but not Skeeter. Why? What’s so different about her? Has she finally met someone who can match her? Has she found someone she can be herself with?
Don’t be absurd. You’re perfectly fine on your own. You don’t want anyone else to leave you. Not like Andy. Not like every friend you tried to make who thought you were too much. You don’t need anyone.
Bellatrix flicks her wand, “Incarcerous.”
Rita’s eyes widen as ropes wrap tightly around her body, causing her to stumble backwards. When she gains her balance, the bitch smirks. Bellatrix rolls her eyes as she sits on a desk, letting out a huff.
“Is this supposed to scare me?” Rita asks. “I honestly expected so much more than this.”
“You mean to tell me you’re disappointed I didn’t curse you?”
“Obviously I don’t want to be cursed, but yes, I am disappointed in you.”
“Join the club,” she mutters.
The smirk on Rita’s face falls, almost imperceptibly, but she notices, she always notices these things. Bellatrix looks away from her pitying but also understanding expression and clears her throat. “What is it you want?”
“Excuse me?”
“Why do you keep following me? You think I have a good story for your silly little school newspaper or something?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
Their eyes lock across the room and Bellatrix must be going insane, because not only does she believe her, she wants to spend more time with her. She waves her wand again, unbinding her, and is utterly captivated by the way Rita rubs her wrists, sore from the rope.
“Why didn’t you curse me?” Her voice snaps Bellatrix out of her trance, and there’s a knowing glint in Rita’s eyes when she hesitates.
“Don’t test me,” she breathes.
Rita takes a step closer to her, and another, until she can feel her breath against her forehead as she whispers, “Is it because I’m too pretty to curse?”
Bellatrix laughs breathlessly, “You’re full of yourself.”
“But I’m not wrong, am I?” She swallows and Rita leans down to her ear, tucking a strand of her curly black hair behind it. “You’re beautiful too.”
“I know.”
“You put the Goddesses to shame. A daughter of Aphrodite.”
Bellatrix is speechless. She has been complimented on her beauty her whole life, but never has anyone ever seemed so enamoured by her, and also not afraid of what she wants. Rita’s lips touch her cheek, the briefest of kisses and she’s out of the room before Bellatrix can even comprehend what the bloody hell just happened.
***
Weeks later, she’s still reeling about what happened in the classroom. And what’s worse is Bellatrix can’t stop thinking what if she turned her head a little to the left, moved forward just a bit. She can’t stop thinking about Rita’s lips on her own. What would she taste like? What would it feel like to be that close to her?
These thoughts terrify her. At least before she could ignore her desires, but it’s near impossible to do so now she knows they are reciprocated. The intent doesn’t matter, Rita might be doing this for a bit of fun, or something to write about, but maybe, just maybe, she likes her.
Her heart skips a beat when she walks into the Great Hall for duelling club to see blonde hair she so often seeks out in a crowded room. She should have half a mind to walk out there and then but Rita’s head turns, almost as if she sensed the moment she entered the room, her cold eyes daring her to stay. And Bellatrix is not one to back down from a dare.
Jutting her chin out as though she couldn’t care less about the other girl’s presence, she walks over to a small group of Slytherins on the other side of the hall to Rita, the closest thing she has to friends, though they aren’t quite so.
The teacher walks in just then, sparing her from some torturous small talk and clears his throat. “Let’s get straight to it, yeah? Any volunteers?” Bellatrix eagerly puts her hand up, desperate to relieve some stress. “Miss Black then. Who wants to duel her?”
Everyone else who had their hand up immediately put it down. She has a reputation of being ruthless during duels while still abiding by the rules; she doesn’t blame them for not want to duel her. Fucking cowards though.
“I’ll do it.”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
“Good luck, Miss Skeeter,” the professor mutters, stepping out the way for the girls to get into position.
“What are you doing?” she whispers angrily as they bow.
“Duelling,” Rita replies, but the smirk on her face shows she knows exactly what she’s doing.
They get into position, raising their wands, and are instructed to begin. Bellatrix forces all thoughts out of her mind, focusing on moving her wrist and speaking incantations and dodging spells. She lets instinct take over, and the two of them fall into a rhythm, almost like a dance.
“You’re holding back,” Rita pants.
She can’t keep the defensiveness out of her tone, “I would never.”
“I know you’re better than this, better than me. So prove it.”
“Why are you so desperate for me to attack you?”
“Because it’s such a shame you’re not living up to your full potential.”
“I am,” she scoffs. “I just don’t think you could handle me at my best.”
“Since when has that ever stopped you?” When there’s no response, and Bellatrix continues holding back, she adds, “Has the great Bellatrix Black, infamous for her callousness and fierce duelling skills, gone soft?”
And that is the last straw. As much as she doesn’t want to hurt Rita for whatever reason, Bellatrix will be damned if anyone even entertains the idea of her being soft.
Her wrists move at lightning speed, and she must confess, Rita is much better at duelling than she seems. But it takes less than thirty seconds after that comment for her to be on the floor, wand halfway across the room.
She smiles at Bellatrix standing above her. “That’s my girl,” Rita murmurs and Bellatrix instantly walks out of the Great Hall, feeling sick to her stomach at the effect those three words have on her. The more time that passes, the more she wants to shove Rita against the wall, this time without pointing her wand at her. But she can’t. It’s wrong. They’re both girls. It’s disgusting. Who cares how much she wants this? She can’t. She can’t, she can’t, she can’t, she can’t, she can’t.
Bellatrix lets out a scream when she enters the toilets, gripping the sink so tight her knuckles turn an impossible shade of white on her already pale skin. As she looks into the mirror, her cheeks flushed from the duel (or the person she was duelling, who knows) and her hair sticking out in all directions, she wonders if the Black family curse is starting to affect her. Maybe she’s going mad. That must be it, why else would she be having such thoughts, thoughts about girls. Well, no. One girl in particular.
She lets out a long breath. Merlin, she wishes she was on speaking terms with Andy. She needs someone to talk to, and she knows her sister would never judge her on this. Not like she judged her on her boyfriend, like the awful sister she is. Bellatrix can’t pretend anymore that that was because she was looking out for her - though that is part of it she supposes, their parents would go ballistic if they found out. But she’s always been jealous of her, and she struggles to hide it at times.
Her hold on the sink tightens even more when a voice behind her says, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Bellatrix spins around, snarling, “Why do you always show up when you’re least wanted? You’re like a little bug I can’t squish no matter how hard I try.”
“From where I’m standing, you’re not trying very hard at all.”
“What are you doing in here? You obviously followed me in here, there were closer lavatories if you needed to relieve yourself.”
“I wanted to check on you. I-” she breaks off, her cheeks turning crimson. Has Bellatrix got her motives wrong? Is it possible Rita genuinely likes her too?
It doesn’t matter. Nothing will happen It’s wrong. It’s-
Bellatrix is moving before her mind catches up to her. Seizing Rita’s robes, she pushes her against the wall and finally gives in to her darkest desires. Their lips crash together and there’s no finesse to it. It’s hot and messy and their hands are roaming everywhere they can. But Bellatrix doesn’t care that it’s not perfect, because it’s theirs. And what’s more, Rita isn’t recoiling in disgust, pushing her away and calling her slurs. No, she’s kissing her back. She’d think she was dreaming if it wasn’t for her heartbeat hammering in her ears signalling that this is, in fact, happening.
When they finally part for air, Bellatrix looks hesitantly into Rita’s beautiful eyes, as cold and beautiful as a pine tree, and a grin spreads across her face at the way she looks back at her. As if she shines brighter than every star in the night sky, and is not afraid of getting burnt or blinded the closer she gets to her. This will end in disaster, that she can guarantee. But maybe, just maybe, it’s better to have loved and lost than never loved at all.