Seas Would Rise When I Gave The Word

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

seas would rise when i gave the word

~*~

They used Cissy's wireless, though the girl had complained; it was the biggest, and the most easily charmed. Everyone knew that Bellatrix threw the best parties: whereas most of the other families just turned their heads when the young went outside and got drunk off of spare bottles of liquor they found lying about the kitchen, Bellatrix flaunted her activities with the same stop-me attitude that she did everything else. She had a few tables set up in the backyard, and Cissy's wireless hovered above the grass. She'd commandeered a tray of hors d'oeuvres from the kitchen and there were four longneck bottles and a teakettle on every table: Firewhiskey, red wine, white wine, Butterbeer in the bottles and gin in the pot.

She leaned against Rolph. The whiskey was going to her head, making it difficult to stand on her own. Meda was still spinning, her arms spread wide and head thrown back, eyes closed. Her hair had fallen loose from its braid and fanned around her as she spun, so fast that Bellatrix wondered if it wasn't the world that was moving around her and Andromeda the only thing standing still.

--

Bellatrix woke early. Meda and Cissy slept, ensnared in the web of blankets and each other, Meda's soft snores the only sound in the room. Above them, the ceiling had shifted to match the weather, and the pregnant-looking clouds kept the room cast in a grey shadow that covered everything.

Her arm had fallen asleep where Meda's head rested on it, her soft brown hair tumbling over Bella's bare skin, its scent...lilies, maybe?...dancing across the surface. Most people looked relaxed when they slept, but not her sister; Meda's brow was furrowed, her mouth drawn into a thin line.

A fierce surge of possession swept through Bellatrix, and she gently pressed her thumb to Meda's forehead, soothing out the creases. She wondered with a trace of panic: who was going to do this for her in September, when she was in her bed at Hogwarts? Bellatrix would be hundreds of miles away, perhaps in her bed with Rodolphus and perhaps not.

Perhaps out, hidden beneath a mask, wrapped in midnight and in costume.

She didn't have the Mark, and that rankled. The others had all blanched at the thought of branding her, at the idea of burning into her skin the same calling that they'd taken so willingly on theirs. But they had swept her into this world, right up to the edge of it, and Bellatrix had never been content to settle for close enough. She was never close enough, never, not unless she was at the centre, unless she was the wand and everything else was just a charm.

There was change coming, real change, real power, so much of it that it raised the hairs on her arms and neck. She could feel it, pulsing, calling, radiating off of the man Rodolphus called Master, and she wanted it.

She had never felt anything to intoxicating, so completely untamed, and so wildly powerful. She had never seen his face, had never had the joy of kneeling before him, and yet it seemed to her that this man, this puppet master, this embodiment of everything her age-old family had ever stood for... he was calling for her, reaching for her with his impossibly strong arms, pulling her towards him and not letting go.

All her life, Bellatrix had been surrounded by people bound so tightly that they could barely breathe. By people who demanded she do the same...to bottle up the abandon that flowed through her as naturally as her own blood.

But this man. This man required no such self-mutilation. She had heard him, all those years ago, hiding behind the heavy satin curtains in her aunt's parlour room as Rodolphus knelt, head bowed, and let his Master brand him. She had heard him whisper...and it must have been to her, it could only have been meant for her..."All I require is your love. Give me your love and you will have your freedom."

Bellatrix felt her heart quicken dizzyingly. Freedom.

Cissy stirred. She rubbed her bleary eyes and lifted her head, blinking slowly in Bellatrix's direction. "What time is it?" she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep.

"Not yet eight," Bellatrix whispered back and gently wriggled free of Meda's grasp. She knelt beside Cissy and gently stroked her hair. "Go back to sleep. I'll come wake you in an hour. We're going to Walburga's for brunch."

Cissy groaned as she closed her eyes. "Sirius will put bugs in my hair again," she grumbled even as sleep reclaimed her.

Bellatrix pet her head once more and then stood. The owl she had sent the night before had been to Rolph, but not with the party's date. He'd asked her to collect a package for him before his return from Argentina, and he'd be back before their trip to Diagon next week; anyway, they weren't the sort of things she was going to find in any old apothecary.

She dressed quickly.

--

Borgin & Burke's technically didn't open until ten, but Bellatrix had long since set up a special schedule with Caractacus Burke that allowed her to come earlier. After all, it wasn't as if she could be seen there during regular hours; she couldn't risk word of her shopping trips get back to her parents so close to the wedding. Merlin only knew what sort of headache they'd cause over it, considering the nature of the shop.

Such places are for men, Bellatrix, her mother would say. Druella Black's Guide to Womanhood, step two: it's not where you are; it's where you're seen.

Her mother was a nuisance and a bore, but on at least that point they agreed. It suited Bellatrix to keep quiet on her frequent stops in Knocturn Alley. Subterfuge was frustrating but necessary in these swiftly tilting times. A good name and a relatively clean reputation could go a long way. Rodolphus had explained carefully the importance of appearances, not for society's sake, but for their own. If she played the dutiful pureblood wife and he the hardworking businessman, who would suspect them? Who would look at the handsome couple and know that one...and soon, soon she told herself, both...of them felt most at home behind a mask?

She'd argued, at first. But in the end, he convinced her...you'll do it to protect your sisters, he'd said, no longer a question. You don't want to draw them into this.

Bellatrix pushed open the door of Borgin & Burke's, scowling. He'd had a point, of course; the thought of Cissy's arm burning dark with the Mark, or Meda's pretty mouth curling around an Unforgiveable... The thought made her vaguely sick. Not that Meda couldn't...that Meda wouldn't...utter those two exhilaratingly powerful words, if she had to. If what she loved was threatened.

Oh, no. Bellatrix knew her sister better than that. Meda would say the words and mean them if she thought it was her only option. But they were cut from different stone than little Cissy. The youngest Black just didn't have it in her to kill, not even if it was her only way out, not even if it meant that everything she loved would wither and die. She didn't have the strength.

And that's what Bellatrix was for. She was the hand that reached out and choked when it had to, stole when it had to, killed when it had to.

Surely Meda will understand that, she thought grimly. As long as it was explained to her that way, surely her gentle other half would take her hand and whisper thanks. Yes, she would understand...she always understood; she always knew what Bellatrix was thinking before she thought it. All Bellatrix would have to do would be to explain.

"Ah, Miss Black. You're earlier than usual. I take it your summer has begun well?"

She cast him a cutting look. "I'm not here to waste time," she snapped. "Do you have what I need?"

"I always do. You have expensive taste. Basilisk venom isn't easy to come by."

"If it was, I wouldn't bother with you," she muttered under her breath. Everything about Caractacus Burke disturbed her: his eyes, small and beady; his hands, fat and sweaty; his words, silk and low. Without stepping closer, Bellatrix tossed him the purse with the payment in it.

He nodded at a small, inconspicuously wrapped package by the door. "I think you'll find it's all there."

Bellatrix grasped the package and left without thanks.

--

The first sound they heard upon entering Grimmauld Place was screaming. It was unsurprising, really, considering whose house it was; Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion were famous for their screaming matches, and the fights had long since stopped troubling their children. Sirius and Regulus were perched on the steps, ears pressed against the wall as they listened.

Sirius's finger went to his lips as Bellatrix swept into the parlour; he nodded at the door, indicating that he wanted to listen, and she rolled her eyes.

"What are they on about?" Meda asked with a sigh, glancing at the clock on the wall. Shouting meant that lunch was delayed, and none of them had eaten before Flooing over.

Regulus grinned. He was the baby by three years, only twelve, and by far the more docile brother. Bellatrix could have used "boring" instead, but refrained out of family pride. Perhaps it was their age difference and perhaps a default of their personalities...either way, she'd lost interest in the youngest Black heir the moment he'd been born. "Sirius rode Grandfather's portrait down the stairs," he bragged, "and he went through a window."

Bellatrix smothered a smile. She worried about his loyalties, sometimes, Gryffindor that he was; but when it came down to it she was sure he'd straighten out. Who didn't experiment during Hogwarts? All that dizzying space between them and the ever-present gaze of their parents... she'd been taken in by it, too, once.

She recognized in Sirius a sort of kindred spirit...his abandon, his passion, his inability to be anything but just himself. When he was old enough, perhaps she'd introduce her cousin to Him. He'd make a fine Death Eater...all of the energy and none of the fear. Ripe for moulding.

"You'd think they'd be yelling at me," Sirius drawled, shrugging shamelessly. "But apparently Mum's blaming Dad for my being wildly uncontrollable, and Dad's blaming Mum for my being completely mad...as it obviously comes from her side."

"Well, he's right about one thing, anyway," Cissy huffed, folding her arms over her chest as she lowered herself onto the stair next to Reggie. "You've obviously got some sort of serious mental handicap that needs to be addressed."

He scowled at her. "Handicaps can be overcome, Cissy. Noses can't."

Cissy's eyes widened and her hands flew to her face, horrified. "What's wrong with my nose?" she demanded frantically. She turned to her sisters. "Did he do something to my nose?"

Bellatrix laughed; Meda smothered her smile with one hand. "There's nothing wrong with your nose," she soothed tiredly. "He hasn't done anything to it."

"Yet," Sirius muttered darkly, and then yelped as Cissy landed a vicious kick to his ankle. He was about to retaliate when the door swung open; Aunt Walburga emerged, her cheek red with a distinctive handprint.

Trailing after her was Uncle Orion, who had a puffy lip and was missing an eyebrow.

"Oh, you're here," Walburga greeted, her voice flat. "Come in and sit down."

As she passed, Bellatrix pressed a kiss to her aunt's and uncle's cheeks. To be honest, she was always a little repulsed by Walburga; the woman stood at almost five-foot-eleven, and her huge frame could easily fill an entire doorway. Her lips were too big for her face, and her chin doubled when she smiled. And though no one ever mentioned it, it was impossible not to notice her slightly lazy left eye, which always lilted to the side when she looked at you.

How that woman had managed to produce two attractive heirs, Bellatrix would never know.

They sat in ascending order by age, with Bellatrix next to Orion and Regulus squeezed next to his mother. Of course it rankled that Sirius was placed above Cissy, but that was politics...they might have been the same age, but he was the male and it was as simple as that.

"Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your engagement, Bellatrix," Orion said around a mouthful of scone. "Rodolphus Lestrange is an excellent match."

"Thank you," she answered with as modest a smile as she could muster. "I know that Father is very pleased. Of course, I think the house in Buenos Aires that we'll be inheriting factors into that."

"Bella!" Cissy hissed, flushing red.

"What she means, of course," Meda interceded smoothly, reaching for her tea cup, "is that the house clearly indicates that Bella will be taken care of by the Lestranges in the manner in which she is accustomed. Would you pass a sugar cube, Aunt Walburga?"

Uncle Orion seemed to struggle with himself for a minute and then sighed. "Lisbon is nice this time of year," he said.

--

The letter was waiting when she returned, tied to the leg of a blinking tawny owl.

Bella,

-Rodolphus

Bellatrix's stomach clenched and she pressed the parchment to her chest, just above her heart. Change was coming, fast and hot and strong, and she could feel her feet leaving the ground as it swept her along with it, demanding nothing, giving everything.

Yes, Bellatrix mused looking out the window at the slow summer sky. Change was coming.

A/N: Thanks to ConstantComment for reading over my story--if not just for being all around awesome!