Cognomen

A girl. A sister. A wife. A Death Eater. A failure – Bellatrix Lestrange, twisted and fallen.

You are a quiet girl. Soft. Idealistic. You are everything a child should be, with wishes on your lips and dreams in the stars. You believe, like every other child. You hope. There is no evil in your blood. You are born of light, of freedom, of laughter. You are honest, innocent, true.

You are malleable.

In a field of green, you play with a girl without a wand. You find it strange, and yet exciting. Something – someone – you've never encountered before, and it intrigues you. She smiles and you smile back. You are young. There is no black and white. There is no grey. There is simply a child's heart and love for play.

"Bellatrix!"

You freeze, only inches from catching your new playmate, but you learnt at a very early age to obey that voice, to cower at that tone. You glance over your shoulder at your father, pick apart those enraged eyes, then sneak another look at your friend. You whine softly. You want to play. But pain is the only option that way. You cringe. You don't like pain.

"Daughter, this is unacceptable," he rages, pointing one shaking finger at the girl. Your lip begins to tremble.

"She plays with me," you reply timidly, seeking warmth in that fiery gaze. But you are burned. You shrink away, hands over your face in some vain hope to stop the blow.

It never comes.

You look up. Your friend is there, clutching a red cheek, glaring at your father. Your eyes widen at such courage. You fall a little in love with Her at that moment.

"Dirty," your father spits. The girl flinches, eyes darting away and back again. She is scared. "Muggle filth. Tainted. Tainted!"

And She's now lying at your feet bruised and bloody, black hair veiling Her face like the dead. You stare, unable to tear your eyes away. She looks like you. Her smile is brighter, Her hair more dark brown than black, but She looks like you. Its as if you have stepped away from your body, a spirit. As if you are staring at your own broken body. You feel the pain as if it is your own. You know what it feels like, to be so broken.

Your mouth is open. But your world is silent.

"Bellatrix! Come!"

Chest heaving, unwanted cries clamouring at your tongue until you throw a hand over your mouth to keep them in, you step back, once. You look between your friend and your father. Bleeding and blazing. You step back again. You look at the blood. You want to cry.

You want…you can feel me. The beginning of the dark. Of that cloud. Of the devotion. I am here. The beginning.

You crouch in front of a chasm. It's calling you to jump. At the bottom is death. But the fall makes it all worthwhile. You know this. You feel it. You break. You turn. There are your parents, holding out hands to lead you across safely. And you take those hands, don't look down, and sink into them.

To hide in your parents. It is the only way a child knows. Your mother whispers words of encouragement in your ears, of muggles and muggleborns and a superior race that they, themselves, belong too. You learn a new word today. Purity. You covet it. It is all that protects you from the emotion that claws at your heart. Adults call it guilt.

You see the Girl in your mind as you grow, streaked with blood and darkness and eyes that accuse. You curl up. You force your fist into your mouth to smother the cries. You are lost.

And then you find Him.

A man with vision. A man who knows the word purity and how it can protect. A man who looks at the world and says, I can make it better. You admire that. You watch Him from afar, in awe, step closer. He is all you can see.

Your parents do not agree. "Stay away from him, Bellatrix. He will bring destruction to the pure."

But you can't help it. This devotion. This need. You look for love and find it in Him. Someone to follow, to adore, to protect. To protect like you couldn't protect the Girl from so long ago. It is your turn to be brave.

You go to Him.

I am there. Inside you. You feel me as you approach Him. I flare; I sink into you as you sink into Him. I am here.

He loves you. Every part of you He touches fills you with devotion. But you stare at the bleeding corpse in front of you, feel His breath on your ear as He whispers, "Can you see the taint leaving them, my Bella? How the darkness fades and their light is restored. How we have saved them." And you can't see it, this taint that your Lord is sharing with you, this vision. But you love Him.

You say yes.

Your name is Bellatrix Black.

You have always been the other one, the quiet one. Your sisters take everything else. Narcissa is the beauty and ambition. Andromeda the adorable and kind. You become a shadow, simply another daughter of the Noble House of Black. Blackened by your parents' cold embraces, you turn to your sisters for the love. But Narcissa seeks comfort in unresisting mirrors and icy respect, whilst Andromeda is the one falling away from everything you know. You try to catch her, but she disappears into that chasm of uncertainty. You shudder. You wish. You turn to your Lord.

This is it, my Bella, this is it. This is what we fight for. He calls you 'My Bella'. You do not mind. Your parents made you leave behind the young name when you were still a child, filling you with darkness and bitterness and this need, this need to be loved. And He loves you. You fight for Him. You kill for Him. You stare back into those accusing eyes and you say, "I do it for love. I do it for him. I do it because I am brave. I fight back now. You cannot make me scared anymore!"

But there is still that lingering taint on your love, that little lie you try to hide in the deepest recesses of your being.

You aim at a muggle. You cause pain. You burn. "Where is your taint?" you demand, and those eyes stare back at you, accusing, bloodied and broken, just like before. "Why can't I save you? Why?"

Because you love Her, and you love Him, and you want to save them all.

That boy finds you. That man. The one who has been watching you for months now, eyes amused and intrigued. Eyes a little lost, just like yours. You curse him, but his hand never leaves your own, come with me, and you follow. Follow to another muggle, no – a mudblood. Beautiful, beautiful. Defiant eyes, just like Hers, the Girl, the Broken One. The one you couldn't save. Your eyes widen in surprise as you take in the dark brown hair. And you know now, you know, "this is my chance. This is my chance to be brave. This is my chance to save you."

And you've found it. You watch the taint leaving this beautiful girl, this girl you have saved, you and him. You look up and see him there, the one who has shown you how to belong just a little more to your Lord. The one who has given you a chance to once more be fully honest to Him. You smile. You take this man's hand.

You begin to love him, too.

But all things come to an end. You end. Your Lord ends. You clutch your husband and you tilt your chin. You are brave. You saved so many people. So many dirty, tainted people. They might think you were doing something wrong, but never. Never, never, never. You love Him. You lied to Him once. Never again. Never, never, never.

You sit in your cell. Darkness is your warmth. You think of your love. You let it protect you. He will always save you. Always, always, always. And you can feel me. Intricate patterns that twist within you. That spins from your love, encourages your urge to protect and save. You must protect them. All of them. The world. You must save them. You must live, I breathe. You wonder about me. About the feathered fingertips that sketch a web in your mind…

I am the dark that lays whispers against your skin. Touches your mind with soothing kisses.

Fall beyond the catching tip, my love.

Your name is Lestrange.

For Loubelle, who loves different perspectives and things that make her think. Enjoy, darling.