Facsimile
Facsimile
Bellatrix twirled in the mirror, smiling proudly at her elegant reflection. Today was her day. Today, she would not be standing staring darkly from behind her sister. No, today she would be in the spotlight. The thought of being important for a change brought a different sort of glint to her big beautiful eyes. The diamond on her finger reflected in her dark irises. Rodolphus always did know how to keep her happy.
The glowing candles reflected off her pearl-white gown, adding a hint of brilliance to her features. The slim silver chain adorning her neck gazed back at her from the mirror. Marvelous, the mirror seemed to say, beauty like no other. Of course. Bellatrix had always known she was beautiful.
Her slim fingers brushed over her neat tresses as an older woman walked into the room, closing the door quietly. Her pale complexion echoed the pride and defiance that both Bellatrix and Narcissa had always seemed to radiate. Smoothing the back of her daughter’s dress, the older woman beamed at the young bride.
“Bella, you’ve grown,” she said softly. Bellatrix looked towards the woman, quickly masking her surprise. She didn’t quite know how to react to Druella’s sincere words, the only sincere words to ever come from her mother’s lips. “You’ve grown so much. And you’ve chosen well,” she continued, taking the young woman’s dainty hand in her own. “We—I’m proud of you, Bella.”
She opened her mouth to return the gesture, but something told her she was incapable. Her response was nothing more than the usual cold words she regularly showered upon those society considered to be close to her. “My name is Bellatrix, Mother.”
Druella caressed her hair and laid a palm on her cheek. “You’re a Black, through and through.” Bellatrix silently gloated at hearing these words. You’re a Black, toujours pur.
“From today, my name is Lestrange,” she replied, quickly masking the small smile that threatened to play over her features. Her expression remained as it always was, lips curled with contempt for the world. “I will be Bellatrix Lestrange.”
Druella’s motherly eyes narrowed back into their shrewdness. “You have forty-five minutes Bella. I trust you won’t be late.” She closed the dressing room door, leaving her daughter to her thoughts and preparations once more.
The bride stepped into the hall, making a point to look nowhere but the altar. Rodolphus’ eyes followed her almost hungrily. Bellatrix stared back emptily into them as she began to walk down the aisle. The entire church seemed to hold its breath as the organ began to play the traditional song.
Bellatrix sensed those around her she neared her groom, searching for one particular presence. She couldn’t find it. She stood facing Rodolphus, waiting for the priest to speak. She refused to look him in the eye, realizing that he understood.
Bellatrix gazed once more at the ring on her hand, soon to be replaced by one more binding. Forgive me, My Lord. He’d understood when Rodolphus announced the news, beady eyes gleaming above that disgusting grin. The Dark Lord had pierced through those beady eyes with his own wintry, magnificent glare before nodding slightly in acceptance. He’d nodded again when Bellatrix had asked him, lips trembling as she bowed before him, if he would be there.
Bellatrix continued to ignore the facsimile of charming silence that had settled through the room, still searching. He was not in attendance. The bride forced herself to look at her husband-to-be. Was—was she not forgiven after all? Rodolphus’ lustful, greedy gaze penetrated her and suddenly, her beautiful ring lost its crystal sheen. The white of her dress seemed grey.
The ceremony began. Bridesmaids walked down the aisle and stood at Bellatrix’s side. Groomsmen leered at her as passed towards her fiancé. Words came out of the stupid man’s mouth and none of it meant anything to her. She could not describe what was happening. Bellatrix Black, always proud and always pure—Bellatrix Black, the most ravishing, most magnificent embodiment of beauty was at a loss for words. For once, she was simply lost.
Where was He? Who would encourage her to fulfill her duties if not He? Bellatrix turned her eyes through the room frantically once more, sensing and searching for the only one who’d ever made her feel. Had He abandoned her? Had He known what would happen? She struggled to hold her head high as the realization coursed through her: she was an infidel.
“Do you, Rodolphus Lestrange, upon Merlin’s wand and Madea’s caldron take Bellatrix Black to be your sworn and lawful wife?”
Bellatrix whipped her attention towards the truth of what was happening. Rodolphus smiled at her once again, promising her wealth and status, what he knew to be happiness. His expression brimmed with perverse ecstasy as he said, “I do.”
“Do you Bellatrix Black, upon Merlin’s wand and Madea’s caldron take Rodolphus Lestrange to be your sworn and lawful husband?”
Bellatrix hesitated. What would He say? How would she explain to Him? Bellatrix took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on the voice of her Dark Lord.
Bella.
A kind of calmness took over. Firmly fixing herself upon Rodolphus, Bellatrix forced herself to smile. “I do,” she lied. As the ceremony ended and the families celebrated, she hung her head in shame.
Bellatrix Lestrange was an infidel.
The glowing candles reflected off her pearl-white gown, adding a hint of brilliance to her features. The slim silver chain adorning her neck gazed back at her from the mirror. Marvelous, the mirror seemed to say, beauty like no other. Of course. Bellatrix had always known she was beautiful.
Her slim fingers brushed over her neat tresses as an older woman walked into the room, closing the door quietly. Her pale complexion echoed the pride and defiance that both Bellatrix and Narcissa had always seemed to radiate. Smoothing the back of her daughter’s dress, the older woman beamed at the young bride.
“Bella, you’ve grown,” she said softly. Bellatrix looked towards the woman, quickly masking her surprise. She didn’t quite know how to react to Druella’s sincere words, the only sincere words to ever come from her mother’s lips. “You’ve grown so much. And you’ve chosen well,” she continued, taking the young woman’s dainty hand in her own. “We—I’m proud of you, Bella.”
She opened her mouth to return the gesture, but something told her she was incapable. Her response was nothing more than the usual cold words she regularly showered upon those society considered to be close to her. “My name is Bellatrix, Mother.”
Druella caressed her hair and laid a palm on her cheek. “You’re a Black, through and through.” Bellatrix silently gloated at hearing these words. You’re a Black, toujours pur.
“From today, my name is Lestrange,” she replied, quickly masking the small smile that threatened to play over her features. Her expression remained as it always was, lips curled with contempt for the world. “I will be Bellatrix Lestrange.”
Druella’s motherly eyes narrowed back into their shrewdness. “You have forty-five minutes Bella. I trust you won’t be late.” She closed the dressing room door, leaving her daughter to her thoughts and preparations once more.
The bride stepped into the hall, making a point to look nowhere but the altar. Rodolphus’ eyes followed her almost hungrily. Bellatrix stared back emptily into them as she began to walk down the aisle. The entire church seemed to hold its breath as the organ began to play the traditional song.
Bellatrix sensed those around her she neared her groom, searching for one particular presence. She couldn’t find it. She stood facing Rodolphus, waiting for the priest to speak. She refused to look him in the eye, realizing that he understood.
Bellatrix gazed once more at the ring on her hand, soon to be replaced by one more binding. Forgive me, My Lord. He’d understood when Rodolphus announced the news, beady eyes gleaming above that disgusting grin. The Dark Lord had pierced through those beady eyes with his own wintry, magnificent glare before nodding slightly in acceptance. He’d nodded again when Bellatrix had asked him, lips trembling as she bowed before him, if he would be there.
Bellatrix continued to ignore the facsimile of charming silence that had settled through the room, still searching. He was not in attendance. The bride forced herself to look at her husband-to-be. Was—was she not forgiven after all? Rodolphus’ lustful, greedy gaze penetrated her and suddenly, her beautiful ring lost its crystal sheen. The white of her dress seemed grey.
The ceremony began. Bridesmaids walked down the aisle and stood at Bellatrix’s side. Groomsmen leered at her as passed towards her fiancé. Words came out of the stupid man’s mouth and none of it meant anything to her. She could not describe what was happening. Bellatrix Black, always proud and always pure—Bellatrix Black, the most ravishing, most magnificent embodiment of beauty was at a loss for words. For once, she was simply lost.
Where was He? Who would encourage her to fulfill her duties if not He? Bellatrix turned her eyes through the room frantically once more, sensing and searching for the only one who’d ever made her feel. Had He abandoned her? Had He known what would happen? She struggled to hold her head high as the realization coursed through her: she was an infidel.
“Do you, Rodolphus Lestrange, upon Merlin’s wand and Madea’s caldron take Bellatrix Black to be your sworn and lawful wife?”
Bellatrix whipped her attention towards the truth of what was happening. Rodolphus smiled at her once again, promising her wealth and status, what he knew to be happiness. His expression brimmed with perverse ecstasy as he said, “I do.”
“Do you Bellatrix Black, upon Merlin’s wand and Madea’s caldron take Rodolphus Lestrange to be your sworn and lawful husband?”
Bellatrix hesitated. What would He say? How would she explain to Him? Bellatrix took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on the voice of her Dark Lord.
Bella.
A kind of calmness took over. Firmly fixing herself upon Rodolphus, Bellatrix forced herself to smile. “I do,” she lied. As the ceremony ended and the families celebrated, she hung her head in shame.
Bellatrix Lestrange was an infidel.