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“BELLATRIX LESTRANGE - DEAD AT 46”
”Long term follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killed at the Battle of Hogwarts”
Rita sat down by her desk in her office at home, her quill in hand and her notepad hovering in front of her. She had yet to write something for The Daily Prophet since the war had officially ended. It had been three months since then by now.
Rita had actually been there, believe it or not. She had fought for the good side because that’s how the two sides had been divided. There was a good side and there was a bad side. Rita thought that dividing it like that was unfair and really rather an ugly way to put it.
Rita hadn’t always been good. Still wasn’t, according to most people– but she had fought for the good side nonetheless.
She had caught a glimpse of Bellatrix only once during the battle and she stumbled on her feet, nearly falling over— her notepad had dropped immediately to the ground next to her. She had been frozen to the spot and had completely forgotten where she was. That they were in the middle of actual war. It’s been so long, she remembered thinking. And Her, her, her.
Bellatrix had gotten older - of course she had - and she was paler than she had ever before. Her eyes seemed so very tired, though she was laughing maniacally and shooting spells left and right.
Then her eyes finally landed on Rita’s. Rita who stood so very still at that moment. Bellatrix had paused, if only for a second, staring right at Rita from across the battlefield. Her eyes widened and her mouth had slightly parted open. Rita could’ve sworn that every single sound died out in that short second when they were looking at each other. Just looking at one another again. She could’ve sworn that everything stopped—
"I think we'll make it, you and I."
But time hadn’t stopped, and someone screamed— and Bellatrix tore her gaze from Rita and started casting again.
“Alright,” Rita said quietly to herself, getting ready to write Bellatrix’s obituary. Because someone had to. She took a deep breath and watched as her quill got ready to copy her words to the notepad. The air in her office felt heavy around her, pressing down.
“Bellatrix Lestrange,” Rita said but it just felt wrong. The quill stopped as abruptly as she did and turned towards her to urge her to continue. She glared at it in return. “Bellatrix Black Lestrange,” Rita tried instead and felt her jaw go tense. She hadn't said her name in so long.
“Bellatrix Black Lestrange, long term follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named dead at 46. The Death Eater fought alongside You-Know-Who at the Battle of Hogwarts and met her fate in a duel with war hero Ron Weasley’s own mother, Molly Weasley,” Rita said and watched the quill write elegantly on the notepad.
Rita remembered when she found out that Bellatrix had died. No one had actually told her, and she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes— no, she had heard of her death from people talking about it all around her. People had been celebrating her death, which Rita had found strange seeing as they were supposed to be on the good side. She hadn’t expected anyone to grieve Bellatrix’s death, certainly, but celebrating it had made something turn sour in her chest.
Rita hadn’t had time to grieve then, with all the chaos surrounding them, and afterwards she had just pushed it all away. The entire wizarding Britain had been so very quiet after the war. Still was. The Daily Prophet had only just started publishing again, although it wasn’t much. It was all so delicate still, and even Rita who hadn’t cared much about other people’s feelings before felt that it wasn’t her place to disturb the quiet. She had once been the biggest pot stirrer in all of wizarding London, but she didn’t really have it in her anymore. Not these days, at least.
So she hadn’t thought about Bellatrix since the battle had ended, and each time Bellatrix tried to make her memory known to Rita she had pushed and shoved and refused to remember. It had taken a lot of wine and cigarettes, quite frankly.
It had been fine for a while— until she started dreaming about her almost every night and woke up in sweaty screams and gripping hard on her covers. She breathed, and breathed and breathed. She took out a cigarette from her night stand and continued to chain smoke until sleep finally swallowed her again. Even if it always did spit her out from another nightmare again, each and every time.
She had to put her down somewhere and that’s why she was writing her obituary now.
To put her down.
To release herself from her ghost.
“Bellatrix was the wife of Rodolphus Lestrange, who is now residing in Azkaban once more for his war crimes during the second wizarding war.” And it hurt, hurt, hurt.
“I don’t want to marry him,” Bellatrix whispered from behind her.
They were laying face to face on a bed but Rita can’t remember whose bed it had been. Or even where they were. She only remembered Bellatrix’s soothing voice from behind her. Feeling doom hovering above them.
"They did not have chi–” Rita said and felt herself choking on the words. Memories tried to come to the surface but Rita didn’t want them. She tried to push them down but the memories had claws and fought her back, tooth and nail.
“I won’t have children.” Bellatrix giggled. Drunk on firewhisky and red lipstick kisses. Swallowed by the blue cushions in the Ravenclaw common room long after midnight. Or in the early morning. Rita couldn’t tell, too enamored with Bellatrix’s lips on hers to focus on such things as time and space.
“Thank Merlin, I don’t want them.” Rita laughed and kissed her once more.
“They did not have children together.” Rita managed, a lump growing in her throat. She took a deep breath and the quill waited for her to continue.
Rita needed wine if she was going to get through this.
“Bellatrix had two younger sisters. Narcissa Malfoy Black, her youngest sister, who's been sentenced to five years on house arrest for her crimes in the second wizarding war. And her oldest sister Andromeda Tonks who was disowned by their parents for choosing to marry a muggle born.” Rita said and realized that she was laughing now.
It had seemed so serious at the time. Rita remembered it well. Andromeda had met a muggle born at Hogwarts and had fallen in love with him. Bellatrix hadn’t cared either way at first, not that she liked him very much, but she had expected Andromeda to break things off with him when school finally ended and it was time for them to fulfill their duties as members of the Black household.
Rita had listened to Bellatrix rant and rant and rant about this continuously. Day after day, night after night. She hadn’t yet told Bellatrix what she meant to her. She swore to herself that she never would. The two of them were best friends and that would have to be enough, even if it did sting knowing that Bellatrix would run off and marry whatever pureblood wizard her parents chose for her when the time came.
Rita would never marry, she was sure of it even then and told Bellatrix the same thing every time she asked about it.
“So you’re not interested in anyone?” Bellatrix asked her late one night in the library.
“I didn’t say that.” Rita shrugged and refused to meet Bellatrix’s piercing dark eyes.
“Oh?” Bellatrix said.
“I want a career.” Rita said, like she had said so many times before.
“You could have both, you know.”
Rita looked at her then and thought she caught something in her eyes. She couldn’t quite figure out what it was, at the time, but there was something in her gaze. Slightly soft, slightly wondering.
No I can’t, Rita thought to herself. I can’t have you.
It seemed so silly now. The biggest problem Rita had back then was the fact that she couldn’t have Bellatrix the way she wanted. The biggest problem the Black household were facing was Andromeda falling for a muggle born. Sirius’s disownment. Knowing now what was to come, Rita would give almost anything to go back to those days even if it truly had been miserable for some. It was better than war. A seemingly unrequited crush had felt agonizing at the time, keeping Rita up night after night yearning for Bellatrix’s touch. Now she would do anything to go back.
It was better than the nightmares now.
The war and destruction.
The good and the bad.
“There will not be a memorial for the late Bellatrix Black Lestrange, as there won’t be a memorial for any followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but The Daily Prophet will post their obituaries in attempt to shine light on the lives lost at the Battle of Hogwarts.” Rita said finally, downing the last of her wine and feeling it spread warmly in her chest. She welcomed it.
The questions roared inside of her, demanding themselves to be asked— but Rita didn’t want to ask them. She didn’t want to dwell on this anymore. She wanted to put Bellatrix down. She wanted to put her to rest and to live her life and never think about her again.
But that wasn’t true, though, was it? Because Rita thought about Bellatrix all the time. Even when she struggled endlessly not to think about her. Even when she convinced herself that she wasn’t thinking about her. Bellatrix had made herself at home in Rita's mind, even as she tried to bury her under other thoughts. She tried to bury her with wine and cigarettes and endless amount work before the war. Never once did she succeed.
Rita still looked for her everywhere, even when years had passed since they last saw each other. Her absence in her life didn’t make her go away— no, it only made her even more of a presence. Bellatrix’s absence was louder and stronger than her presence had ever been, and Rita felt it all the time. No matter where she was.
Rita hated her absence more than she had ever loved her presence.
“But you said,”
“I know.” Bellatrix interrupted, more timid and afraid than Rita had ever seen her.
“You don’t love him.” Rita said, feeling desperate. She knew it didn’t matter, not really, she had listened to Bellatrix’s disappointment with her sister. She had been her shoulder to cry on when Andromeda was disowned. She had duties to fulfill, Rita had known all along, she had, but she thought.. She hoped, no, she-
“No.” Bellatrix said.
“I love you.” Rita said because she couldn’t help herself.
“I’ve only ever loved you.” Bellatrix said, so quietly that Rita almost didn’t hear her. She wished she hadn’t. It would have been so much easier if Bellatrix just simply didn’t want her anymore. If she left her because she wanted to.
That hadn’t been the last time Rita saw Bellatrix, though it probably should have been— but Rita couldn’t stay away. No matter how much it hurt. She had even been the reporter at the wedding. Rita had sat in the front row and watched as her quill wrote down the vows between Bellatrix and Rodolphus.
She had kissed Bellatrix an hour before her wedding. She couldn’t help herself and Bellatrix had kissed her back immediately, so desperately and hands absolutely everywhere. It had been so messy and lovely that Rita had almost forgotten that it was Bellatrix’s actual wedding day. Eventually someone knocked on the door, breaking the moment and bringing them back to the reality of it all. They had both been breathing heavily and Bellatrix’s lipstick was smudged all over her lips. Rita had laughed, helplessly. So hopelessly in love with a woman she couldn’t be with. Bellatrix had frantically tried to fix her makeup, already late to the altar.
And then Rita had watched Bellatrix get married to someone else.
When Rita remembered Bellatrix she didn’t remember the deranged woman she had turned into. To be fair, Bellatrix had always been something overwhelming. She had never been afraid of anything, as far as Rita knew, and she had always liked living on the edge while she still could. They had become fast friends, though no one had expected them to. At first glance they appeared to be complete opposites, but the two of them learned quickly that they weren’t very different from each other at all.
People didn’t tend to like them together. It was as if they had their own language, and without really meaning to they tended to exclude everyone else. Eventually people had stopped trying, but the two of them didn’t mind. They preferred it, quite honestly.
People, more often than not, feared Bellatrix’s boldness, and they stayed away from Rita in case she would figure out their secrets and turn it into gossip. Which she so very often did, and Bellatrix listened and laughed with her every time.
People hadn’t feared Bellatrix because she was dangerous back then, they had feared her because she was wild and too loud and unafraid. She had been someone to admire or to stay away from. Sure, she had a short temper and was fiercely protective sometimes. Especially over her sisters, but she hadn't been dangerous back then.
That’s what Rita remembered when she thought about Bellatrix. The girl she had been, once. Before she had gotten married. Before she met You-Know-Who. Before she had lost Andromeda and everything changed. She hadn’t always been deranged, as people always referred to her now.
“She was just a girl, once.” Rita said to herself, feeling slightly tipsy from the wine she had downed earlier, a refilled glass in her hand. She looked at her quill as it wrote down what she had just said. “People forget, but she was just a girl.”
“Before she was a Death Eater and a follower of You-Know-Who she was just a girl. She wanted to work with potions, actually.” Rita laughed quietly, “She was fierce and protective. She made her sisters laugh. A lot. She was so funny, possibly the funniest person I've ever met. She protected them, no matter what the cost— and wouldn’t blink an eye.” Rita poured more wine into her wine glass. Images of a young Bellatrix, happy and full of life, flooded her mind and she could barely stand it.
“I was the girl who loved her.” Rita whispered to herself, like a secret, but the quill heard her like it always did and kept writing anyway. “There was a Bellatrix before she descended into madness. Before she met Him— and I loved her.”
“It may be true that she joined the bad side. There was a good side and there was a bad side, though I’m not sure I always agree with that if I’m being honest. It feels silly, doesn’t it, to boil everything down to good and bad? I’m not good, never have been really, but I fought for the good side didn't I? People on the good side celebrated her death and that doesn’t seem very good to me. Not that they should’ve mourned her, I suppose, but for the good guys to celebrate someone else’s death? Is that good?” Rita continued.
“I didn’t celebrate.” She said quietly and the quill kept going, “However— I didn’t necessarily mourn certain people I probably should’ve mourned, either. Does that make me bad? That I care more about Bellatrix’s death than, say, Dumbledore’s?” Rita didn’t know.
“She had long dark hair, slightly curly but always always wild. It looked so beautiful when it got stuck in my own blonde hair. Her dark features against my light ones were so beautiful.” Rita said and remembered once more.
“If we’re going to continue doing this, one of us needs to cut their hair off.” Rita laughed. She felt giddy and invincible with Bellatrix on top of her like this. Chasing Rita’s lips with her own every chance she got, completely forgetting that they had to breathe occasionally.
“I like it.” Bellatrix giggled. “I like being tangled up with you.”
Rita blushed. “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” She mumbled and kept chasing her mouth with her own. Rita greedily chased her back.
“She giggled a lot back then,” Rita said fondly. “She almost always laughed or giggled and it never once failed to give me butterflies. No matter how disgustingly sappy that sounds.” Rita laughed. “She was my first kiss. Can you imagine that? She was so shy that night. I had never seen her like that. I certainly wasn’t her first kiss, I can tell you that much. I had seen her kiss other boys and she had never once been nervous, but with me she had been. Can you imagine the murderous deranged Bellatrix Lestrange being nervous before a kiss?” Rita wasn’t talking to anyone, not really, she was just pouring her heart out at this point with only her quill and notepad as witnesses.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Rita asked her. They had left an interhouse common room party early to find a quiet space just for the two of them.
“No reason.” Bellatrix said but didn’t quite look away.
“Well you’re creeping me out, Bella, out with it.” Rita said and shoved her gently.
“I just—,” Bellatrix said and started fidgeting with her hands. She turned towards Rita then, not quite meeting her gaze now. Bellatrix was rarely quiet and it made Rita slightly uncomfortable, but she didn’t dare look away.
“You just?” Rita said and it came out as a whisper. Bellatrix did look at her then and Rita felt it was too much, and not enough. Both at the same time.
“I just–,” Bellatrix said and Rita could’ve sworn that she was leaning slightly closer. She didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare hope.
“You just–,” Rita whispered, and Bellatrix got closer.
Closer, closer and closer. Until–
Until her lips landed on Rita’s own. Bellatrix’s lips were on Rita’s and everything else disappeared. Nothing else mattered. Bellatrix was kissing her and Rita kissed her back immediately.
For hours. Or minutes. Or decades. Rita couldn’t tell, and she didn’t care. She just kept kissing Bellatrix.
“Is this alright?” Bellatrix whispered between kisses.
“I’ve wanted this for so long.” Rita admitted.
“Me too."
“Can you believe that?” Rita laughed, bordering on drunk at this point. “She asked me if it was alright. The girl who’s now taken so many lives asked me back at Hogwarts if a kiss was alright.” She continued, “It's still the best kiss I've ever had, to this very day.” She finished and watched her notepad as the words sunk in.
“Then I lost her. Not right away, mind, but eventually I did. It was never going to last and I think I knew that deep down— but we kept making empty promises to each other anyway; pretending that the outside world didn’t exist. That it couldn’t get to us.” Rita said, and felt heat burning in her eyes. She refused to cry. She wouldn't give Bellatrix the satisfaction.
“I should probably say that I lost her when she got engaged, but that’s not true. We continued to see each other even then and - I know what you’re thinking - that’s very inappropriate and blah blah blah. And yes, perhaps it was.” Rita was laughing again, but she still felt the heat burning in her eyes. “I just didn’t care, quite frankly, I loved her so much. We loved each other so much.”
“When do you have to be back?” Rita asked while stroking Bellatrix’s hair. They were at Rita’s place, where they so often ended up, and each time they said it would be the last time. But it never was.
“Half an hour ago, really.” Bellatrix said quietly, leaning into Rita’s touch.
Rita hummed. “I don’t want you to go.” She said and leaned forward on the bed to kiss Bellatrix. Bellatrix kissed her back, rolling on top of her.
“Me neither.” Bellatrix said.
“I miss you all the time.” Rita whispered into Bellatrix’s neck.
It wasn’t what it had been back at Hogwarts. They didn’t make promises to each other these days, and they were always on borrowed time. But it was worth it, every single time. It was.
“Me too,” Bellatrix managed through a gasp when Rita’s hand went between her legs.
“No— no, I didn't lose her to her husband, funnily enough. She was still the same, mostly, when they got married, and she loved me still.” Rita said, and lit up a cigarette. “I lost her to Him. ” She said and blew out the smoke so hard it hurt her lungs.
“You didn’t.” Rita said and took Bellatrix’s arm. Bellatrix had been gone for a couple of months now, Rita didn’t know where she had been, and even before then Bellatrix had started acting distant with her.
She didn’t want to believe it, but the mark on her arm was clear as day on her pale skin. Even in the dark evening.
“I did.” Bellatrix said and didn’t show any emotion on her face.
“Wh–, Why?” Rita said and just stared at it.
“It was my time.”
Rita swallowed hard. “Your time?”
“Yes.” Bellatrix said and Rita felt her heart breaking in two. It just broke into two and Rita could feel it happening in her chest. Violent and loud and painful like nothing else she had ever felt before.
“What about–” Rita said and didn’t even know where she was going. What about her? They weren’t even together anymore, not really, they just fell into bed with each other every now and then. Rita told Bellatrix she loved her and Bellatrix always said she loved her back. “But–”
“But what?” Bellatrix said and took her arm back. She wouldn’t look Rita in the eye. “I’m proud I took His mark.” She said.
“I–”
“You could join us.” Bellatrix said finally, and she did look at Rita then. Bellatrix didn’t look the same, but at the same time she did. Something was different and Rita couldn’t pinpoint what it was. It was something in her eyes, she thought.
Rita was a lot, and maybe she wasn’t even a very good person and didn’t care enough to try to be, but she couldn’t join them. She couldn’t go with Bellatrix. It was too far, even for her. She felt tears streaming down her face, but Bellatrix was still emotionless infront of her.
“I can’t,” Rita choked out.
“Okay,” Bellatrix said and Rita stupidly wanted her to fight for her. To plead for her to join the Death Eaters. But she didn’t. Not once.
“Don’t you care?” Rita asked her then.
“I don’t care for those who don’t follow Him.” Bellatrix said. Something wavered in her voice, ever so slightly, and Rita would've almost missed it if she just so much as blinked.
“Not even me?” Rita asked through the tears.
Bellatrix was quiet for a long time. She opened her mouth and closed it again several times and Rita only looked at her. Looked at Bellatrix who wasn’t really her Bellatrix anymore. She knew she had lost her. She felt it in the two halves of her broken heart.
Bellatrix never answered her question. Eventually she had turned around and left and Rita hadn’t tried to stop her.
“He took her from me and she went willingly, I suppose.” Rita finally said, the words sinking into the notepad as Rita just sat back and watched. “I never saw her again after that— up until the Battle of Hogwarts.” Rita said and remembered it all over again. How time had seemed to stop, just for the two of them, when their eyes met for the very last time.
“I had selfishly hoped that she would come find me when she broke out of Azkaban, but she never did.” She admitted, ”I don’t even know if she ever thought about me during our time apart, but I thought about her all the time.” Rita continued as she put her cigarette out.
“I never stopped."
“I love you.” Bellatrix told her one night.
They were in the astronomy tower and Bellatrix was showing her the constellations. Rita didn’t care much about the stars, not while her favorite star in the universe stood right next to her. Not when her favorite star in the entire universe was kissing her neck and had her arms wrapped around her waist from behind.
“What?” Rita said and turned her head quickly towards Bellatrix, bumping their noses together.
“I love you.” Bellatrix said again.
“You do?” Rita said, and turned around in full to face Bellatrix.
“Merlin and Morgana both, just say it back already.” Bellatrix sighed and rolled her eyes, but Rita could see the pink flush in her cheeks.
“I do. I love you too. Of course I do.” Rita said, stumbling over the words.
“Yeah?” Bellatrix said and put her hands on Rita’s waist again.
“Yeah.” Rita said and allowed herself to be pulled closer to Bellatrix.
“I think we’ll make it, you and I.” Bellatrix said and put her lips on Rita’s neck again. It seemed to be her favorite place to put them.
“You and I.” Rita repeated mindlessly and leaned to the side to give Bellatrix better access.
“I loved her, once.” Rita said, and found she couldn’t stop the tears from falling from her eyes now. Pride be damned. “She was just a girl, you know, and I loved her more than I’ve ever loved anyone.” Rita said and watched her quill work.
“Perhaps I always will.” she admitted to no one in particular. Into the quiet heaviness of her dark office. The only sound besides her own voice being her quill writing down a hidden and soon to be forgotten love story.
“BELLATRIX BLACK LESTRANGE - DEAD AT 46”
”Long term follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killed at the Battle of Hogwarts”
None of the pages of Rita pouring her heart out made it into The Daily Prophet, but Rita kept the pages anyway. She had locked them away in her nightstand and only ever took them out once a year. On May 2nd, each year without fail. The day Bellatrix had died. She took them out and remembered her.
No one would care that she had loved Bellatrix once. Honestly, most people probably wouldn't want to hear it. Most people didn’t want to see Death Eaters as human beings, really. It made it easier if they weren’t. If they were just bad.
But Bellatrix had been just a girl once. She had laughed loudly and loved fiercely; and she had wanted to be a potioneer. Then she had gone mad, depending on who you asked. Other people would say she was pure evil. And maybe she was, at the end of her life. Rita honestly wouldn’t know.
She just remembered the girl she had once loved.