Not About Love

Sunlight streamed through the leaded windows, peeking through the thick black curtains which could no longer restrain the morning. As the light flickered under Bella's eyelids, she lost the connection with her dreams. There had been something happy in them, something fleeting, she knew, and rolled over, letting her mind wander.

The previous night... it had been everything the entire summer had not been. To think that she had felt inadequate in any way merely a week earlier. Now she knew she was anything but. She was powerful, and unafraid to use that power. Most importantly, she wanted to use that power. She knew she would.

The memory of Ernestina, of the string connecting the two of them, pulling it, tugging gently, and harshly again. Letting that thread sever, and then severing the subject herself.

The memory of Lucius, reminding her, in a way, of the lessons she'd had since she was an innocent girl of sixteen. There was something to be learned from him, she knew, and a sense of power behind his words. He was a threat, but a charming one. She knew she would never be at peace with him, and she liked it.

As the wind threw itself through the cracked-open window, it pushed the heavy curtain aside a few inches, and the thin beam of light stretched outwards. It reflected harshly on Bellatrix's stiff white sheets, and she squinted her eyes against it. The damage was done, however, and she was awakened.

Knowing she could no longer prolong the early morning hours, she rose and dressed herself. Running her brush through her hair, the pain reminded her again of the night before. Slowly, carefully, she stood in front of the mirror, undoing each tangle. Between the tugging and the time, it was a long and tedious process. Finally free of knots, it took several minutes more with the hairbrush before her hair again resembled something groomed and attractive. Suddenly, she realized what she must have looked like the previous night, when she was caught sneaking upstairs by her father.

Unable to delay the inevitable, Bellatrix started down to breakfast. Her only consolation was that her father would likely be out working this time of day. He had spoken kindly to her, considering the hour of her return, and Bellatrix now felt, in the sober reality of the early morning, that his gentle behavior the previous night had been an act, and her true punishment was awaiting her.

Mrs. Black sat at the small, round table in the kitchen, stirring a small silver spoon in her tea. Her eyes were cast downward, as if she were examining the translucent brown liquid for some sort of sign, when Bella sat herself at the other side of the table. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun, the subtle streaks of gray shimmering in the sunlight. The shimmering robes she wore fell as gracefully as they had when she was a beautiful young bride.

"Would you like some tea, Bella?" her mother asked, with what seemed like the kindness of a genuine offer.

"No, no thank you. Breakfast would be nice, though." Bella never was one for the niceties of tea when what her stomach really craved was a meal.

"If you ask properly." It was something that had always bothered her about her mother. Everything must be done properly. Why was it not simply that everything must be done?

"May I please have some breakfast, Mother?" At this request, one of the elves suddenly appeared, carrying a silver tray upon which sat a plate of toast and eggs.

"Thank you," Bella said, to her mother and not the creature who had provided her with the meal. Looking over the contents of the plate, her face betrayed her feelings that this was really a rather inadequate meal.

Mrs. Black had always been a practiced woman, and knew her daughter's expression right off the bat. Without moving her eyes from the silver spoon still spinning small circles in the tea, she spoke to her eldest daughter. "You're at a time, Bella, dear, that you really ought to be watching your figure. Perhaps someday soon this won't matter, but for now, you shall look your best."

Bellatrix mumbled a sound of assent and grudgingly dug into the egg whites. Mrs. Black finally set the spoon carefully on her saucer, giving off nothing but the softest of clinks, and turned to her daughter.

"Your father tells me you were with Lucius Malfoy last night."

Between bites, Bella verified this. "Yes, yes, I was."

"Do you like Mr. Malfoy?"

"Mother," Bella grumbled.

"Don't grumble to me," Mrs. Black chastised firmly. "Frankly, it is not of any matter whether you like Mr. Malfoy. I think he is an excellent young man, as does your father, and the matter at hand is whether or not Mr. Malfoy likes you."

Bella kept her feelings silent. As long as they were in agreement over their purpose, it would do no good to raise bad feelings between her and her parents.

Her mother's voice took on a calculated tone of endearment. "Now, you know, Bella, that your father and I have worried about you. You show little sign of commitment to any sort of adult life. To this point, there has been no sign of a suitable man in your life, and as secondary as it might be, of a career. Your father and I have always wanted the best for you, and have to this point, we feel, been very generous letting you stay in our house despite your showing very little motivation to move elsewhere." Bellatrix held her tongue, knowing it was not in her best interest to let her mother know exactly how motivated she was to move elsewhere. It was proper opportunity she lacked. "I know you've done well in school, and would like to make something of your life, and a good marriage does not mean you cannot later find something worthwhile, provided you and your husband have the means to assure the children are properly cared for. If this is what you wish, your father and I will assure that you have the means to do so. We do care for you, Bella, and we wish to do as much as we can for you, but first you must do for yourself." There was barely a pause. "How are things with Mr. Malfoy, then?"

"Fine."

"If you don't wish to elaborate, that's fine, darling, however be sure that you use discretion. You must leave him always wanting more of you, leave your perfume lingering in the air, your beautiful face in the back of his mind, and your charming conversation echoing in his dreams. You understand, Bella?"

"Yes, Mother, I understand," Bellatrix agreed in a truly bored tone of voice, pushing her finished plate aside.

"That said," Mrs. Black said abruptly, reaching for her purse, "take these, and go to Diagon Alley. Treat yourself to some new robes, perhaps some hair-care potions, whatever you'd like, dear. Think of it as a gift from your father and me." Her mother reached out her cold hands and handed Bella a heavy pouch that jangled loudly. Bella smiled, as the elf returned to clear her plate.

--

The buildings glistened with the mid-morning light by the time Bellatrix arrived in Diagon Alley. Looking out at the bustling thoroughfare, she was first reminded of taking her younger sisters to buy school things weeks earlier. Was this the life her mother intended? Taking small girls shopping for schoolbooks? Bellatrix knew this was something she could do well without.

Walking down the sidewalk, Bella felt the weight of the golden Galleons in the pouch her mother had given her. She'd counted them earlier and knew there was enough to buy more than a few new sets of robes. Her mother knew that as well, and Bellatrix fully expected repercussions should she not spend her gift on acceptable possessions. Imagining yet another lecture on propriety and ladylike behavior, she made her way to the dress shop.

The bells hanging from the door jangled as Bellatrix pulled open the door to Madame Malkin's. Stepping out of the way of a pair of older witches behind her, Bellatrix stared up at the racks of robes surrounding her. She could use new robes, she knew, (her old school ones had not been replaced since sixth year) and she began looking through a rack of dark-colored feminine-looking robes near the window.

Her eyes were drawn to a particularly stunning midnight blue set. In the shadows, they appeared black, but as the light hit the fabric, it emitted a dark shade of blue, highlighted by a metallic sheen. A small piece of fabric affixed to the neckline noted the price. Sixteen galleons! Bella could afford it, she knew, but immediately thought of many things she would prefer more than a new set of dress robes for sixteen galleons.

A tall, blonde witch wearing pale green robes which flowed as if they were made of a material lighter than silk, approached Bellatrix. Bella remembered the woman, it was she who had helped them when Narcissa needed new robes earlier in the summer, but the clerk's name slipped her mind.

"Miss Black," the woman addressed her, in a very friendly tone of voice.

"Good day," replied Bellatrix, replicating the woman's affable tone, but not her memory for names.

"Is there anything I can help you with? We have just received a lovely shipment of dress robes, as well as the latest in everyday wear. The designers have just released their fall designs, and I must admit that they are simply fabulous." The woman seemed to gush with excitement over something so superficial as robes.

Bellatrix glanced quickly over the rack in front of her, realizing that these fabulous designer robes the woman spoke of were likely at least as expensive as the gorgeous midnight blue that had caught her eye. She turned back to the woman. "Actually, I'm wondering what you have in a less extravagant price range." The woman looked at her quizzically. "My mother already ordered me some lovely dress robes from abroad. I just need some simpler stuff to fill out the wardrobe," Bella added quickly. She relaxed as the blonde woman smiled knowingly, and followed her towards the back of the shop.

"I understand. We don't get to have the fun of shopping for fancy stuff every day," the woman confided, causing Bella to relax sufficiently. The last thing Bellatrix needed was for her mother to hear that she was skimping on her appearance, but there was no way she could stand to let all those Galleons go towards clothing, having far better purposes in mind.

The more modest robes were kept in the back of the store, and the sales witch pulled them out in front of the fitting rooms. Bellatrix was eventually able to withstand the longing pleas from her to splurge on "just one or two of those pretty ones," and selected a simple black set; a dressier, autumnal red set; and a gray woolen one for colder days. She also treated herself to a new black hooded cloak. Mentally exhausted after an hour of dealing with clothing, Bellatrix paid and left the store, deciding that the blonde sales witch must certainly be paid on commission.

Carrying her new robes at her side, Bellatrix felt the contents of her mother's money pouch. Still significantly weighty. She smiled and hurried across Diagon Alley, and down an alleyway she had found over the summer, while the girls were busy eating ice cream with friends at Florean's.

The sunshine and constant murmur of friendly conversation disappeared as Bellatrix emerged from the alley. Despite the midday sun, the buildings appeared darkened and gloomy. The signs out front of the shops swung on their hinges or had pieces missing, and the windows were dusty and dim. Bellatrix pushed her face up towards the glass in order to see.

The first shop she looked at held petrified animals and dying plants in its display. Looking up, the signage read "MLDI'S POION SHP," and Bellatrix determined that these were likely ingredients for either potions or poisons. She'd never had the patience for potions, as the Hogwarts potion master had reminded her several times a year, and she sighed and moved on.

Across the street, the window was cluttered with tarnished metal objects. Some appeared to be devices of torture, racks and chains, while others' use was unclear from their appearance. As the few other people in the street passed by her, Bellatrix stared in through the window, imagining the uses of each of the artifacts in the display, her hand clutching the still-weighty pouch.

There was a small silver object that looked like two rings fused together. Bellatrix wondered if it was not just some odd piece of jewelry before she remembered a lesson from fourth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was a ring of Alberic, which fit around the middle and index fingers of its victim and allowed the owner total power over whomever was wearing it. Gazing at the ring, Bella remembered the sweet feeling of complete control. It had only been the previous night, and yet she longed to feel it again, to know that someone her completely and totally subservient to her command.

Standing up, away from the window, Bellatrix walked to the door of the shop.