Of A Broken Heart

Of a Broken Heart

"You don't die of a broken heart, you only wish you did." - Marilyn Peterson

Bellatrix waited until she was certain all of the Potters had left the house, and Sirius was alone within, before she let herself in the back door. The Potters were so trusting; locks never occurred to them. Sirius was startled by her sudden presence, but ultimately unsurprised to see her. He had been expecting this. They did not speak, but locked eyes and drew wands. Sirius bowed, and Bellatrix curtsied, and black hair fell in the eyes of each. Then the duel began.

At first, it was well-rehearsed. They had fought many times, were well attuned to each other's preferences and customary moves, and so for a time the duel progressed almost as a dance. They volleyed back and forth across the living room, trading blows without really harming each other, matching strike for parry, parry for strike as though choreographed.

Bellatrix broke form first. At a point where Sirius would have expected a Stunner or a Blaster, she lashed out violently, aiming a Bone-Breaking Spell at his leg. He only just managed to deflect it, and in return gave her a slashing Diffindo that nearly rent open her arm. The curses now were less polite, thrown viciously and faster and harder to block. In order to avoid a jet of boiling water, Bellatrix spun out into the hallway, and Sirius followed.

Both were working harder now, foreheads beginning to bead with sweat. Yet both were so quick that neither had managed to injure the other, too quick were their deflections and blocks. Such a nicety could not last, though, and both knew it. Fury was building in each cousin, broiling more and more heatedly, and soon to erupt.

First blood went to Bellatrix. She lacerated Sirius's shoulder just as they entered the kitchen, and could not resist a victorious shriek, that gave Sirius the chance to retaliate with a burning spell. He had been aiming for her wand hand, but she moved too quickly, and it burnt her left instead. She hissed in rage and went after him with renewed force. Perhaps at first they had been intending to fight to first blood, as usual, but now rage seethed over, and years of tension along with more recent pain gripped the duelers. Furiously they moved, in and out of nearly every room of the house, faster and faster and more frantic every moment. Sirius eventually backed Bellatrix up to the staircase, and she had to turn to flee upstairs, or risk falling. She ran quickly, but not enough so to prevent Sirius having the chance to hit her with a Blasting Curse from behind. It caused her to trip at the last step and fall hard to the floor. She rose quickly, bleeding from the lip now, and turned to hit Sirius with a Reductor that flung him back down the few steps he'd ascended.

The battle continued for most of an hour, jets of light and power flashing back and forth, the duelists working themselves near into a frenzy. Bellatrix did not thrill from this fight, did not feel the same rush of glory and jubilation that duels usually provoked in her. She felt only seething anger, her emotions so raw and pure that only this violent outburst could do them justice.

When nearly an hour had passed, Bellatrix and Sirius found themselves in his bedroom. Each hit the other with a curse, and both were knocked back against opposite walls. With the momentum of the fight broken, they stood, meeting eyes and gauging their next move. Simultaneously, the young witch and wizard dropped their wands to their sides, and collapsed on the bed, entirely exhausted. It had been the most rigorous duel of Sirius's life, and Bellatrix had only had worse when being tested by the Dark Lord. They lay side by side for a few minutes, as they had as children, to catch their breaths and calm down somewhat. The curtains were drawn nearly completely, leaving only a thin line where the afternoon sun spilt in on them. The room was cool and dark, with the stillness only born when the world outside is in the full heat of summer. After a long while, Bellatrix cast her eyes to the ceiling and sighed, "Why, Siri?"

"I have to, Bella," he replied, in his rough voice. "Mother's gone mad, and after that fight with Father, I just... I can't stay in that house any longer."

"And what of the rest of us?" Bella asked, sitting up on her elbows and looking sideways at him. "What of Reggie and Cissa and me?"

"Yes, what of you?" Sirius retorted, sitting up as well and wiping his damp hair from his eyes. "Are you three going to cast me off as you did Andi?"

Bellatrix scowled fiercely and started to raise her wand again, but Sirius caught her wrist and pushed it back down. They were too tired. "Should we not?" she snapped.

"What should I care if you did?" he shot back. "You were never my favourite, Bellatrix."

"Keep telling yourself that," she snarled, stung. "Maybe in twenty years or so, you'll believe it."

Her words bit him worse than his had done to her, because while his were cruel, hers were true. He loved Andi, loved her virtue and liveliness, her sense of justice and indomitable good cheer. But it was Bella who shared his spirit, Bella whom he had adored in those early days when they'd played together.

Bellatrix continued. "You're betraying us, just as she did. Blacks don't handle betrayal well. If you've no sense of loyalty--"

Sirius gave a sharp, barking laugh and lay back again, hands folded behind his head. "Oh, yes, Bellatrix, give me another of your lectures on loyalty, on filial devotion. I'll let know you know when you say something I haven't heard eighty times before."

Bellatrix's black eyes narrowed down at him, and under other circumstances her temper would have exploded. But she had spent her reserves of fury for the time being, and they had not yet been replenished enough for another fight. She lay back down as well, on her side to face him. "Don't do this, Siri," she said. "Don't make us hate you." Her voice was intensely vulnerable, and Sirius questioned whether or not to believe it. Then he remembered what a terrible liar Bella was and had always been, and decided it must be genuine feeling. It had been so long since they'd been honest with one another.

"I don't want you to hate me, Bella," he replied.

"Then don't hurt me like she did." The words were whispered, and compelled Sirius to roll to face her, grey eyes finding obsidian.

"I'm not doing this to hurt you. I'm doing it to avoid hurting myself any longer. Why can't you understand that, Bella?"

"Family, Siri."

They fell silent. There was no further argument they could have; it had all been said before, and likely would be said again, but not in this moment. It was too sacred. Somehow, each sensed this would be the last, and that made it so fragile, so delicate, a tiny hummingbird of time, about to take flight forever.

Their lips met without meaning to. It was light and gentle, contrary to both their natures, almost childish in its innocence. It was an attempt to reclaim, if only for a few seconds, the beauty of youth, of those unspoiled days before the world started falling apart. Such would never come again, and they knew it.

Bellatrix broke away, and stood, making quickly for the door and the stairs. Sirius followed, and stood two steps above the ground floor as she reached the front door and her hand fell on the doorknob. "Bella--" She paused briefly. He wanted to rush to her, to gather her in his arms and tell her to let the tears fall. He knew they were there, knew how she was fighting them. He wanted her to let them fall, to let him kiss them away. He wanted to hold her close and tell her that nothing would change, that they could stay like that forever, that they need never come to hate each other, that she was his Bella and always would be.

But it was too late. The air would never give passage to these words; their only opportunity dissipated like mist as Bellatrix drew a deep, shuddering breath, and shook her head with dark curls all around it, but did not look back at him. And then she was gone.

Sirius stared at the door, utterly unaware of how long he remained there. It was as though someone had stolen the breath from his lungs and the blood from his veins, rendering him unable to think or move, but only capable of standing and feeling the weight of what had just passed.

He trudged upstairs and collapsed on his bed again, only to find that Bellatrix's scent clung maddeningly to the fabric: the bizarre but enticing blend of honeysuckle and some spice he had never been able to identify. Knowing the scent would torment him if it remained, Sirius stood and stripped the sheets, tossing them in the laundry hamper in the hall linen closet. He'd do the laundry later; at the moment he needed to set the house to rights before anyone got home.

Bellatrix did not allow herself to cry until she reached her bedroom. Then she wept with a powerful fury, her head in her arms, sobbing hot tears of frustration, and worse, of loss. Her loyal house-elf Galie came to remove her boots and clean her wounds, but was shooed away by Narcissa, who had heard Bellatrix's sobs from her own room. Narcissa attended to her sister swiftly and unquestioningly, applying salve to her cuts and burns. It was not until Cissa had finished wrapping her wounded hand that Bellatrix, in a rare display of softness, threw her arms around her sister. Narcissa was surprised, but said nothing, and stroked Bella's back until the dark-haired girl let go and crumpled in a heap on her bed again. Narcissa never mentioned the incident again, and never inquired about it. If she knew the cause of Bellatrix's unusual distress, she never let on.

James Potter came home to find Sirius in the kitchen, repairing a sugar bowl and cleaning the white grains from the floor. Sirius had nearly finished setting things right, but James could still look around and tell there had been a duel. He looked up at his best friend. "I take it she--" Sirius cut him off with a nod. After a silent moment, James stepped forward to give Sirius a brotherly embrace, patting his back reassuringly. "C'mon. I'll help you clean up."