Disclaimer: characters and HP world belong to JKR and various publishers

Note: This FF was originally NOT written by me, but by a friend of mine, who doesn't have an account here. I just translated it as well as I could. So all the praise go to Numair, and all the faults are mine, understood?^^

Have fun reading!

Chapter 2:

"You're sure, you want another one?" Bellatrix raised her head a little and sent her opponent a glare she spared for those who were exceptionally stupid and far below her. And, with his question, Sirius had just catapulted himself in the ranks of those. Did she look like she had enough? Did she look like she couldn't hold her liquor? Did she look like she didn't know when to stop? No. So she just raised her hand, waved the waitress over, ordered two new glasses and shooed her away again with a sharp gesture. She couldn't be bothered with what the waitress might think about her. She had already forgotten the woman's face.

All the time they waited, she didn't look at him, but just the table board in front of her. She drew her finger along the lines left in the dark wood that time had burned into it and finally got caught at one of those ludicrous carvings, where somebody had graved in two initials and decorated it with an awkward heart. She wrinkled her nose at it and pushed the glass which the waitress had put in front of her directly on top. The stitch at her heart, she ignored, because it meant one thing for which there was no place here: envy.

Instead she lifted her head, looked at her cousin who until now had, apart from that one, stupid sentence, gracefully kept silence and asked the question she probably should have asked already an hour ago: "Why the heck are you here?" A wide grinned passed over his face, before he leaned back one arm casually put over the back of his chair and examined her. Or at least that was what she felt he was doing. "What?" It was just a hiss, barely audibly as a word, but it seemed to amuse him even more. "Oh Bella."

Her long fingers tightly held onto the glass in front of her, when the nickname from their days as children fell, which her sisters still used, which he had no right to use anymore. She didn't scold him though, but put the glass up to her lips and drowned half. Waited for the wonderful burning which crawled along her throat and settled down in her stomach, a tiny bit of the warmth she had yearned for the whole evening. And now, well, now she took the cheap copy of it. You had to hold whatever you could get. If she had learned something in her life it was this. You would never get what you wanted. Never. But at least Sirius finally settled for an answer. Even though it still was accompanied with a grin, she would have loved to wipe from his face with a curse.

"I wanted to congratulate you. But I think, I already said that once. You remember?" The young man raised his hand to draw a finger along the rim of the glass making a singing tune which just drove her mad. "Right before you just tagged me along. Into this bar." As if he had fought against it. "I mean, it's a big event. My cousin, the firstborn of the Black family getting engaged with another beauty of the wizarding world. What a match. What a man. What a fabulous choice. Not a Malfoy, but at least he's rich."

She put down the glass with a clang. He was still busy drawing his finger along the rim of his. The worst thing about it was that he pronounced what the acid voice inside her head repeated again and again those last few hours, if not days. Taunting, always adding, why she was complaining anyway. "Congratulate me? Congratulate me?!" The shrill voice nearly broke, disgust drew ugly lines in her normally beautiful face and she started laughing like a hyena, just to stop it again after some seconds and glare at him as if she was considering breaking his neck.

"Congratulate me?" It was the calm before the storm. "Absolutely. I mean, he is rich. Absolutely. Rich. And don't forget good-looking, Sirius, do not forget good-looking. Did I mention 'rich'?" Another dry laugh, another gulp and the realization that the glass was empty again. "Malfoy? Cissa is going to be a Malfoy. Congratulate her. Or should I tell her. I'd gladly tell her." Yes, why not. Her little sister was happy about it, after all. Almost giddy. Enviable. Completely enviable. "Oh," this seemed to be news to him. "Yes, oh. If you had come, you would already know."

The Black started to laugh. It was a familiar sound in her ears, the throaty, dark, unbelievably amused sound, almost calming, if it weren't for the words that followed. "I thought about it, Bella. Really. Coming to the party, looking at all these posh wizards and witches, meet my beloved family and, oh, I could have brought Andy and Ted as well, just to see everybody gathered again." He hadn't seen the glass coming, that she knew from the look on his face, when it broke on the wall next to his face and fell to the floor in shards. Only that he started laughing again. And she wanted to lean over the table and scratch his face until nothing would be left. Until nothing would remind her of what haunted her nights and woke her drenched in sweat.

"Stop making fun of me." "I would never do that and you know it," he answered coaxingly, leaned over to her and reached for her hand. If he had done the same with a hot iron stick, the reaction wouldn't have been different. She snatched her hands back. It was more a reflex than revulsion at the touch, but now she couldn't undo the move anymore either. Nothing about how he judged it could be seen on his face, he just kept smiling and leaned back again. "Don't touch me." He had….would have…no. No. She squirmed under her own thoughts, which just weren't allowed and finally settled on taking his glass and empty it. He protested only slightly, so she choose to ignore him. How much she had already had, she couldn't tell anymore, but it didn't really matter. "Why I am here with you, again?" A wonderful question. Perhaps he could explain her own insanity. He had to be good for something, at least once.

He cocked his head, pushed all five fingers of his right hand through his dark hair and seemed to fight hard against another laughing fit. "Well, I don't know, after all it was you, who took me with her, but I'll just make a wild guess…" And then he leaned over the table again, lowered his voice, looked around the room as if he feared someone overhearing them and whispered, "You just love my face." "Beg pardon?!" That was so unbelievably brash, she didn't have an answer those first few seconds. It was so impudent, words failed her and it stroke her so deeply, her words got stuck somewhere in her throat. "I hate your face," was her final answer. "It is ugly." Just like a petulant child that didn't know anymore what to say and now had to fall back on insults. "I don't even like you." Added feebly and even though she repeated it a second time, before she, unconsciously, started chewing on her thumb nail.

"Nonsense." Sirius winked, a click of his tongue accompanied his words. "You can't hate me. And I'm not ugly….dearest cousin, what is it about your taste in men? But you also said Rodolphus was good-looking, didn't you?" A theatrical sigh followed the words. "I think something must have gone wrong with your education." And before she could throw the glass, he put his hand on top to prevent her from doing so. "My education gone wrong? Who is the one, who has a flying motorcycle and runs around with Potter and a werewolf, eh?" That seemed to hit him now, but somehow she couldn't feel good about it. On the contrary. When she saw the brooding look passing over his face, she almost felt bad, had to avoid the sharp glance of the man in front of her and almost felt like apologizing to him…but hold a second? Why? For calling his friends what they actually were? For hating those people that made him leave his family? Most definitely not. There was no reason for that. He was the one who had to apopogize. "You're just jealous."

Had he hit her, it wouldn't have hurt less than this short sentence. A trembling shot through her fingers, again her glance wandered through the room like a frightened bird, not able to look at him directly. "Oh really?" Hysteria – like so often this evening – was back in her voice. "Why should I want two loosers and a pile of scrab? Can you explain that to me, Sirius? Can you?" His right edge of the mouth turned upwards, he seemed to have overcome the shock from just moments ago quickly. "I never said you wanted them," he began slowly. "I said you wanted me." She could hear that it was a joke. She could hear it. But at once the ring around her finger grew so tight that it felt like it would crush her bone, if she couldn't get it off immediately. "Just a joke," he added, but she began to pull at the ring of metal, the very own panic of this moment and the alcohol doing their own.

"Yes. I want that." Her words were cutting and ALLUMFASSEND, never supposed to be spoken, and underlined by the sound of the ring hitting the table's surface. At least he could with this as little as she herself, the laughing stuck in his throat and for a few seconds he just stared at her, before he grabbed the ring turning it over and over in his hands just like a toy. "Bella…" The nickname hung between them like lead, did nothing to break the silence, only making it harder, because nothing followed it. Nothing at all. And she had to live with the fact that he had nothing to say. Well, what should he have said? What indeed? She just wanted him back for the family. For nothing more. Absolutely for nothing more. And his friends stopped him from doing so.

"Do you mean it?"

The young woman pressed her lips together so hard, only a white line remained. "Bella." Again. More urgent. As if he had been waiting for an announcement like that. "Do I look like I was joking? Did I ever? I hate your friends for it, Sirius, I hate them." And exactly that shone in the green eyes, burning brightly and destroyingly. Paired with the question how he could favor those people to his family. How he could favor those people to her. She had always been there for him, apart from…yes, apart from the time at the end, but who wanted to blame her for that? "And how could I not, Sirius? How could I not?" Should she have watched laughing, while he was leaving happily and spending time with them? Had he expected her to? Then he was thicker than she had ever assumed.

"They are my friends." As if that alone would raise them to the sky. As if it would allow them everything. "They would give their live for me. No matter what I do…" Unspoken was the accusation that his family did not act like that. "I'm sorry." He was still turning the ring as if he wanted to memorize the engraving, the form, the colour and the material, so he could never forget them. "You still want me to pay for it, don't you?" Her finger were drumming on the table hard. "For not staying with you, for watching while your mother burned your name on the carpet…how long do you want to do that to me? How long? Why are you even here, why…?" His hand on her mouth stopped her. "Shh… shh…Bella. No. That's nonsense. Nonsense. And you know it." Did she? Did she really know it? Angrily she shook her head. "I know nothing. What do you want? Do I have to cry to stop it?" Sirius rolled his eyes, sighed deeply and gripped her hand tightly leaving her without chance to escape it.

"I never wanted to hurt you. It has nothing to do with that and you know it, Bella…look at me." Defiantly she did as asked, and looked in the hurt face of her opponent which look just as young as he actually was. "I'm sorry. Please accept my excuse, Bella… I'm just here to wish my cousin nothing but the best for her future. Not to make fun of you. Not to hurt you." Thus said, he put the ring back into place on her finger, though without loosening his grip on her hand. "Believe me. Please." How could she have reacted differently? Of course she could and should have ripped her hand away, scream at him and accuse him, but she didn't do it. Instead she looked at her hand in his, at the ring, the sign that she belonged someone else, the sign he had put back on her finger, as if it didn't interest him at all, and said nothing. "Bella." Urging, almost pleading. "I promise it will never happen again and if it happens, you can punish me…come on."

For a short moment she took a deep breath of the bar's smoky air, dampened her lips with the tip of her tongue and pressed his fingers lightly. "Do it, and I kill you." Instead of being surprised he just nodded in the earnest sincerity that always surprised her when he showed it. "Alright. Whatever you want." What she wanted? What she…yes…whatever she wanted. Bellatrix put her head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. "What? What….did I…" "No. Not you. Not really." And yes him, ever again him. But how could you put that in words? There were none to express it and she couldn't even try because there was no sense in that. Because her future was fixed. Because she would soon be Mrs. Lestrange. Because she would bear children, she then would scream at. Even though she had had such a bright future. Even though…

"Have you ever been to a club?" "What?" As if he had smelled her troubled thoughts, as he had had a notion as to where they were going, as if he saw it as his duty to pull her back up when he apparently hat pushed her down. "I asked if you have ever been to a club." In his eyes there was a glittering she couldn't sort in. But it was typical for her cousin to be jumpy and always making an effort for a good mood. "Ah, what am I asking? Of course not. Now. Come on. " "What? Where?" His eyes gleaming with mischief, he just pulled her up. "You will hate it, come on." Then it clicked. "You don't want to take me to muggles, do you? You don't want to take me to muggles…" He ignored her, threw some sickles on the table and just pulled her along. And deep down, deep down she wanted to come along.

Just for one night she wanted to let go. Be someone else. Not Bellatrix Black.