The Golden Prince and His Ballerina by TheLittlestLestrange

Chapter 1: A Dance Around the Memory Tree
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Bellatrix Lestrange was pale. Pale white. Her dark hair and dark eyes standing out drastically. Her lips looked like scarlet smudges of blood.

Bellatrix Lestrange was still. A frozen statue. Her eyes didn’t even flicker. The slight breeze didn’t even move her hair. And her chest didn’t even move up and down to signal her breathing.

She stared at the reflection of herself in the lake. But it wasn’t her, she concluded. It was a someone quite different. A fifteen year old girl with luxuriously long curling dark brown hair with a metallic gleam in the candlelight and dark chasm-like brown eyes that looked they could swallow a person whole.

The girl in the reflection was not really facing Bellatrix Lestrange. In fact the personage was twirling, a smile on her angelic face.

Bellatrix was still pale. Bellatrix was no longer still. She was blinking rapidly, and her cheeks were stained by tears. She rasped in a breath as memories flooded her. Memories that had haunted her since her first night in Azkaban. She had nearly forgotten that she had once been plagued by these memories for years and now when she least expected it they came back more powerful and potent than before. It was all becoming too overwhelming and her knees buckled, her palms getting scratched up by the gravely bank.

She watched as the reflection of the girl seemed to widen. The mere personage became an entire and elaborate magical canvas. The Great Hall appeared and many people were dancing and some were on sitting at tables eating or conversing. And some were just making out in the corners. The angelic girl was wearing a deep ivory green dress that puffed out slightly, the hem brushing at her knees. There was a layer of soft black fishnet cloth on top of the skirt of the dress. Her black shoes were flat and green ribbons criss-crossed up her leg from her shoes. She looked like a ballerina. A ballerina who never stopped dancing.

The girl twirled again.

“Stop spinning, your making me nauseous.” 

The twirling girl stopped and turned to her sister, who was smiling despite her cruel comment.

“Oh come now Andromeda. Don’t be so jealous,” she pouted at her younger sister.

“Excuse me? You think I’m jealous of you, Bella?” Andromeda smirked, “Do you need to get your head checked?”

“Oh course I think your jealous,” Bella continued. “Just look at my dress, and now look at the pitiful excuse for a fabric you’re wearing, and now one more look at mine.” She grinned maliciously before bursting into giggles before embracing her sister. “You look beautiful Dromeda.”

And she was. She had dark honey locks that spiraled just below her shoulders. Andromeda wore a beautiful maroon gown that puffed at the shoulders a bit and reached her ankles, flowing at her every move.

“So why were you twirling?”

“To draw people’s attention,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice.

 “Anyone in particular?” the younger girl asked wiggling her eyebrows just slightly.

“No. It is just completely unacceptable for the women of the most ancient house of Black to ask a man to dance. They are to flock to us. The fact that we weren’t immediately bombarded when we walked through the Great Hall doors just shows how dim witted everyone is at this school.” Bella sighed frustratingly. “So we just have to stand here and wait, but it won’t be long now,” she finished, twirling once again.

“Excuse me, Andromeda, but could I borrow your sister for a dance?” a deep voice that resembled the sweetness of chocolate rushed through Bella’s ears and she turned smiling. She always thought she had the gift of the Inner Eye. She had to crane her neck to look at his face he was so tall.

Bella recognized him immediately. He was two years older than her. A seventh year Gryffindor. In other circumstances she would, not at all kindly cover her nose as if she smelled something horrific and flat out refuse. But this time it was different. In her eyes anyway. This was no ordinary Gryffindor. He was Abraham Chryses, the third son of one of the purest pureblood wizarding families. His eyes were golden, his hair was golden, his skin was golden, everything about this boy was golden. Bella was nearly convinced it was because of his pureblood. She was equally convinced that if he were to be cut and his blood was to be spilt, that it would be pure gold and worth more than a million galleons.

“Of course,” Andromeda said slightly stunned. Chryses had never seemed to show interest the Black sisters much less Slytherins. He mostly kept to himself or his family.

“Just one moment, Chryses.” Bella’s voice tinkled sweetly.

Bella faced away from the boy and turned to her sister and whispered, “You won’t tell mum and pa, right?” Andromeda shook her head, keeping her lips sealed tightly recalling that the chryses’ were notorious for reading lips. Bella continued, “I know he’s pureblood, but after Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor I’m not sure how they will take it.” Andromeda nodded in agreement. “I just want to find out more about this Abraham Chryses, it is entirely professional.”

Andromeda cocked her head to the side and whispered into her ear. “Professional my arse, Bellatrix. He’s bloody hot.” And with that she gave her older sister a shove and walked in the other direction.

Bellatrix turned to the older boy waiting patiently for her to dance with him. “That to,” she said softly with a small giggle.

Abraham held out his hand and she took it without a thought. She marveled that just by touching him he made her skin look like gold as well. “’That to’ what?” he asked, taking her other hand as he pulled her deeper into the crowd of dancing bodies. They all seemed to blur away.

“That is for me to know,” she said placing her hands on his shoulders. “And for you to find out.”

He grinned. “So I will find out?”

“Of course.”

“Is it guaranteed that I will find out?” he said, placing his hands on her small waist.

She gave him a once over. “Yes I guarantee it.”

“Brilliant, Trix.”

Bellatrix glared. “Don’t call me that. Take the time to say my full name.”

He was thoughtful for a moment before he gave her an amused smile. “Bellatrix.”

“Perfect,” she beamed.

“I wasn’t finished.” He cleared his throat but didn’t begin again for another minute or two. “Bellatrix. Bellatrix Black. You have a very pretty name. A pretty name for a pretty girl.” She forced herself not to blush. “But I can’t bring myself to do it, Trix.”

Annoying little prat. She smiled sweetly at him as she moved her hands from his shoulders to his wrists and removed his hands from her waist. She executed her escape perfectly, until Abraham successfully tangled his fingers with hers and twirled her towards him again. “Ah-ah-ah. I will have my dance,” he said it in a voice that only purebloods could master. The kind of voice that your compelled to obey. They kind of voice you can’t help but obey. It was seductive magic and entirely inescapable.

He had his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her much closer to him than he had before, and his other hand between her shoulder blades. Bellatrix was briefly distracted by a lone freckle inside the shell of his ear. He was too close.

“I have a question.”

“Do you?”

“Why do you suddenly take interest in dancing with me? I always thought you were an introvert or something and never stepped outside of your circled of brothers and sisters and cousins.”

“Should I be offended?”

“It would be a horrible waste of time; I never take back what I say. Now answer my question.”

“Well you were twirling around so much, that I simply couldn’t help myself.” His golden eyes flashed, as if they had been lit to flames.

Bellatrix gave him a cold stare. “Stop playing games, Chryses.”

“Abraham, just call me Abraham, Trix.” He moved his hand from between her shoulder blades to hold one of her hands. He held her hand to his mouth. She wanted so bad to pull it from his grasp, but she couldn’t, she was still being affected by his voice. “And playing games is what I do.” He pressed his soft lips to her finger tips. “But I’ve had my fun so I will answer you.”

 He dropped her hand and loosened his grip on her but she was hooked. She couldn’t pull away even if she wanted to. His voice was back to normal now, she didn’t have to stay there, but she couldn’t move. His eyes were closed as he gathered his thoughts and when he opened them they weren’t on fire they were smoldering. Bellatrix suddenly felt like she was swimming in a vat of molten lava and she wasn’t escaping, nor did she really want to.

“I like you,” his eyes bore into her own and she felt like her eyes were burning inside their sockets. “A lot. I don’t know what it is. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed you since your sorting until the start of this term. You were just another small little pureblood girl who was sorted into Slytherin. I just forgot about you. It wasn’t until I saw you at the platform just this September did I notice something different. When you were eleven you were just a Slytherin. But now you’re just—.”

The song ended. She hadn’t even realized there was music. “Oh the song’s over. So great we had this chat Chryses,” she said winding her way out of his arms. With one last curtsy she turned and walked away quickly.

She found an empty table and sat down. She waited and waited for what seemed like an eternity for Andromeda to find her. Once she did Bellatrix shot up from her seat, and grabbed her by the wrist with her iron grip.

“Bella,” she hissed. “What the hell?”

“We’re leaving.”

“Why? What happened?” the fourth year asked annoyed but steadily becoming concerned.

Bellatrix looked around her as if suspicious of eavesdroppers. Which actually wasn’t to unreasonable. “I’ll tell you later. Maybe.”

O.0.O.0.O

One and a half hours later Bellatrix climbed up the stairs from the dungeons, still in her ballerina-esque dress. She had left Andromeda in the shower after she had told her an edited version of what had happened and she needed to be back soon, she had to do this quick. Finally she reached the doors to the Great Hall. She didn’t know why she was there—well she did, she just didn’t know if this was the place to start.

Suddenly the late nighters all began to file out of the Great Hall. The Holiday Soirée was officially over. She stood to the side, where no one could see her—not directly at least. When Abraham Chryses walked through the doors, she reached out and brushed her fingers against his. He remained expressionless when she gave him a long look before walking back down the corridor that she had come, which told him to follow her, but follow her he did. He followed her down the corridor, then down another one, then down a passageway until she disappeared behind a tapestry. He paused before brushing the tapestry aside.

“What is it, Black?”

She grabbed him by his classic black tie and pressed her lips to his. She pulled away immediately. “I’m sorry,” she said releasing his tie as she looked down at the dusty floor beneath her shoes taking a good three steps back. “For earlier.” Everything was quiet. Everything was still. Bellatrix shut her eyes tightly.

She heard a footstep and was convinced that he was leaving. But then he grabbed her by the waist with his left hand and with his right he tangled in her hair as he pushed her against the wall behind her. Her head slammed against the wall hard, but she hardly felt it, not compared to the rest of the pain she was feeling. Kissing Abraham was like being engulfed by white flame. Everything that he brushed his fingers against was scorched, blistered, melted. It was so utterly painful that it made Bellatrix feel a strange and twisted pleasure course through her body like poison that would kill her if she had too little or too much.

Both of Abrahams hands were on the small of her back now pressing her against him so tightly that she could scarcely breathe. She wanted so badly to rip and claw at his shirt until it was no longer a barrier to his undoubtedly flawless chest.

She pulled away her breathing haggard. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. Abraham leaned his forehead against hers. When she breathed in his exhaled breath it nearly froze her lungs, and she could swear her heart skipped a beat. “You were scaring me a little. No one so perfect as you had ever said stuff like that to me.” Bellatrix didn’t know why she was suddenly becoming hysterical, she didn’t know why her eyes were beginning to brim with tears, and she didn’t know why she couldn’t keep from words coming out of her mouth. She just was.

“You think I’m perfect?” he chuckled, catching a tear that began to slide down her cheek.

Bellatrix nodded covering her mouth with her hand and biting one of her fingers. Get a grip, she thought to herself.

“It’s okay,” he whispered drawing out the words to make them seem triple their actual length. He pulled back to get a better look at her face. He smiled when she nodded. She breathed in deeply and wiped at her eyes viciously as though they had done her a great misdeed.

 “I’m just what?” she said in a small voice—a voice that she had only used with her sisters.

“Pardon? I don’t know what you’re getting at,” he said apologetically, brushing his lips against her cheeks.

“Before. When you were telling me that when I came here I was just another Slytherin girl. I was just a Slytherin. But now I’m just what?”

“Oh that,” he grinned. “You were just a Slytherin but now you’re just Bellatrix. I already know every Slytherin girl. Let me know Bellatrix,” he pleaded.

She smiled. Suddenly feeling very tired she rested her head in the crook of his neck. The one hand he still had on her back was trailing up and down her spine, giving her goose bumps.

O.0.O.0.O

The next day Bellatrix, Andromeda and the tiny second year Narcissa Black were back home for the winter holidays.  The moment Bellatrix entered their home her mother grabbed her by the ear and dragged her down the hall up a set of stairs and into Bella’s room. Her mother released her ear, but the dark haired girl didn’t dare touch it. A moment later her father entered as well.

“Take a seat Bella.” She obeyed sitting at the edge of her bed.

What could this be about?

“We received a letter last night from Lucius Malfoy that you, last night, were dancing with the thirds son of the Chryses family.”

“Abraham.”

Her parents gave her a look. Oops, she thought. Slip number one.

Druella Black spoke for the first time. “I think it’s marvelous that a young man of such blood status asked you to dance,” she said smiling her fake smile of hers. Sure you do mum. Where’s the punch line? “But,” There you go. “You father thinks otherwise.”

“I do,” Cygnus said, taking a seat next to his daughter. “You are aware of course that Abraham Chryses is a Gryffindor. Your cousin Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor this year and the shock of that is still a healing wound to my dear brother and sister in law. We hope that you will understand that we must stay loyal with our family and you will stay clear of the Chryses boy from now on.”

Bellatrix nodded. Her father wrapped an arm around his favorite daughter and kissed her forehead. He loved all his daughter equally of course but Bella was his first and he found himself in her almost 24/7.

With that her parents filed out and after they shut the door Bellatrix shot up from her seat and opened her trunk, shuffling through it haphazardly until she found what she was looking for. Parchment, her phoenix feather quill and ink.

The first letter she wrote was to Dear Lucius Malfoy it read:

I hope you have your funeral planned and your will signed.

And the next letter was sent to Abraham Chryses.

The image in the lake changed. It morphed and shifted. Bellatrix Lestrange recognized it immediately and through her tears she smiled the saddest smile known to man as the happiest memory of her life appeared before her.

Bellatrix Lestrange began tearing at her dress blindly.

“I hate you,” Bellatrix hissed in Abrahams face. She stood from her seat, the poor wooden chair threatening to topple over, snatching her things from the table. They were in the library and he was “tutoring” her in Arithmancy. But it was really just an excuse for them to be seen together. To keep up the act of forced pupil and condemned master they would frequently get into little fights and squabbles, only to end up snogging in a deserted passageway or broom closet thirty minutes later. So that night wasn’t much different, except for the fact that Bellatrix wasn’t acting.

She stormed out of the library leaving him sitting there blubbering like an idiot. What had he done this time? He gathered his things and stuffed them into his bag and raced out the door following her.

Bellatrix shot glare after murderous glare at anyone who passed her or so much as breathed to close to her. The crowded corridors seemed to separate like the Red Sea for Moses.

Narcissa Black was the only one unbothered by her older sisters badly hidden fury. “Bella, Bella! Guess what!”

“Not now, Cissy! Go bother Dromeda, or Regulus or something,” she growled shoving her sister out of the way. Narcissa looked back at her Bella’s retreating form and stuck her tongue out at her nastily before skipping the other way. She always was a ball of sunshine.

Bellatrix had begun descending the staircase that led to the dungeons when she knocked straight into someone. She fell on her bum and looked up at who had dared gotten in her way. Andromeda. She was clutching at the wall having successfully regained her balance. Before looking down at Bellatrix she patted her hair as if it had disappeared for a second.

“Oh, hey, Bella! Have you seen Rabastian?” she asked completely neglecting for as good as pushing Bellatrix to the floor. Bella brushed pass Andromeda. “Hey!” her younger sister yelled frustrated.

“How should I know? Go ask Cissy or something,” she shouted back.

Bellatrix was positive that he was hot on her tail. He always was one to follow her when she was angry. Always persisting that problems get solved head on. She ran faster and faster, she didn’t know if her mind was playing tricks on her or if she really was hearing footsteps approaching closer and closer by each passing second.  

Finally she was sprinting down the length of the dungeons until she slammed into the common room entry way. She was about to whisper a password when a voice beside her startled her.

“Never seen you run so fast, Trix.”

Bellatrix yelped loudly, pulling out her wand. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed him. Abraham was leaning against the wall merely three feet away from her. He was not looking at her, but looking straight ahead emotionlessly. He scared her when he got like that. His usually smoldering gold eyes were hard as steel and his lips weren’t quirked up in a smile like they almost always were. Everything thing about him now looked wrong.

“How’d you—how’d you beat me?” Her voice shook. “And how many times do I have to tell you, Chryses, not to call me that?”

“So now we’re on last name bases are we, Black? And to answer your questions, Black, I beat you ‘cause Gryffindor’s know more about the castle’s secret passages it’s a gift given to us by Godric, Black. And you’ve told me not to call you ‘that’, Black, 4 times a day, Black.”

Bellatrix was looking down now. It wasn’t often that Abraham got angry at her but when he did he could be cold and cruel, and Bellatrix wasn’t used to being on the receiving end. “Okay you can stop,” she murmured but he didn’t seem to hear her.

“And tell me, Black, since when have you started hating me, Black? Tell me, Black, why have you been acting like some prissy spoiled brat every time we finally get to spend a decent amount of time with each other, Black?” 



Each time he said her name was like a slap in the face which angered her: she had never once felt shame for her lineage but here was Abraham Chryses succeeding where no one else has. She bent her head lower and brought her hands to her ears, her nails bit into her skin and her hair cascaded over her watering eyes. She turned away from him and began walking away, humming a tune, anything to get away from his voice.

“And tell me, Black, why do you keep walking away from me, BLACK?!” He roared her name that time and it made her flinch.

She turned back towards him keeping her head bent as she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into one of the Heads offices. It was where all the Slytherin prefects would meet but there wasn’t to be another meeting until the following Wednesday. Once they were both inside she shot and locked the door before placing a Silencing charm on it. Once that was done she pocketed her wand and leaned her forehead against the cool wooden surface of the door. She needed to compose herself before she talked to him. She counted to ten but found herself blinded by more and more tears. Why couldn’t they just go away?

Bellatrix began to hit her forehead against the door repeatedly, each beat becoming steadily harder and harder and harder. Suddenly she was all out attacking the wall, her legs kicking it viciously and her nails tearing at the wood leaving deep wounds. Abraham’s eyes widened as he watched her, he wanted to reach out and hold her but his feet were glued to the ground. Heart wrenching sobs tore through her chest and it brought a tear to his eye to see her so distressed. But still he couldn’t move. She punched and scratched and kicked and cried and screamed for a long time before finally collapsing in a crumpled heap on the floor. Now Abraham found that he could move.

He staggered towards her, his knees buckling from underneath him. She was still crying, she seemed to be humming a childish tune. Her knuckles were swollen and a red bump was forming on her forehead. Her nails were also nearly non-existent and bloody. He reached out a hand and stroked her hair. She sobbed and began to hum louder.

“Bella. Bella, please tell me what’s wrong. What am I doing wrong?” his voice was cracking.

“I’m,” she breathed her voice hoarse from screaming, “scared.” She pushed herself up and off the floor laying her head in his lap. He pulled her soft hair from her face, and began whipping away at her tear stained face with a handkerchief. “I’m scared. So scared.”

Abraham leaned down and kissed her temple, his golden hair tickling the skin just below her eye. “What is there to be scared of?” he whispered.

“You.” He blanched, but she continued. “You’re leaving and school is over in two weeks. Me not seeing you for two years. You not seeing me for two years. My parent’s expectations. I just know they’ve already picked me a husband. And they sure as hell didn’t pick you. And that scares me because,” she lifted her head looking into his eyes. Her dark brown ones looked as if she were begging him for something, something that she was half convinced that she would never get. “Ever since you asked me to dance.” She broke off suddenly shaking her head. “No, no, never mind. I’m just scared. I’ll miss you so much.”

It was already too late. She had already said too much, and he wasn’t about to let her off the hook. “Stop lying to be, Bella. Can’t you trust me with the truth?” he said some of his earlier anger coming back to him.

“Of course I trust you,” she breathed, her eyes wide. He had never seen her so vulnerable.

“Then why do you lie.” She rested her forehead on his knee. “Tell me why you’re 
scared, please.”

She mumbled something against his leg that he didn’t have a hope of understanding. “Didn’t hear you.” She said it again louder this time but it was still incomprehensible. “Look at me and try again.” She brought her head up. Slowly she found his waist and wrapped her arms around it, leaning her head against his heart and looking up into his eyes.

“I love you,” she said clearly but barely in a whisper.

He smiled, and began pushing her onto her back. “What did you say?” She said it again, looking at him curiously, her tears finally coming to an end. “Huh?” he asked leaning over her body, his hands holding him up next to her shoulders.

“I love you,” she said in her lovely soprano voice.

“Come on, Trix,” he said. He was so teasingly close that his lips brushed against hers so lightly that it felt like she were touching a ghost. “You can say it louder than that, I can barely hear you.”

She couldn’t help but giggle before shouting her love to him. Finally he seemed satisfied.

“Oh so that’s what you said. Good ‘cause I love you too.” And then he kissed her. 
Kissing Abraham gave her the favorite feeling in the world. Her arms were still wrapped around his waist and glided them up and over his button down shirt, tracing his spine. He kissed her slowly and sensually. Almost expertly and without him noticing she rolled them so that she was on top of him.

“I have something for you,” he breathed in her ear. She kissed him once more before moving off of him. “Close your eyes and give me your wrist.” She obeyed, covering her eyes with her other hand for extra measure. She felt something cold and somehow living clasp around her wrist and she opened her eyes.

She gasped. On her wrist was the whitest set of pearls she had ever witnessed. She glanced at Abraham before returning her attention to the bracelet. “It’s beautiful. Where’d you get it?”

“Family heirloom. It’s been in the Chyrses family for about a thousand years now.”

“Its,” she paused looking for the right word. “Beating. Like a heartbeat.”

He chuckled, “Yeah it’s got magical properties apparently. Some say that Godric had been a part of the Chryses family. He had been given that bracelet by his aunt who adored him and thought he might want to one day give it to the woman he loved, and he did. To a woman named Seraphina Chryses. They had a baby boy but Godric Gryffindor’s wife died while in labor or shortly after it. Godric kept the bracelet in his dead wife’s jewelry box where she kept her finest jewels and when he was old and dying he told his son who was much older now to take the bracelet out of the box and cherish it for it had been his mothers. He kept his mother’s maiden name to honor her.

“So it’s been tradition in our family for the mother to give this bracelet to one of her sons who would in turn give it to the girl they love most in the world,” said beaming giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“And that girl is me?”

He nodded. “Also these pearls shine the brightest when I’m thinking of you. They turn black and stop beating when I’ve stopped loving you, but that will never happen. I’ve never loved anyone like this before, and I have fallen in love many times believe it or not. This love will last even once I’ve died.”

“I love you,” she sighed, touching his face with her palm and he held it there. “Well I always planned for you to love me most,” she smirked.

Then for the next four minutes they were battling each other in an epic tickle fight.

Her dress looked ragged, and her fingers were numb. In her hand was exactly 23 white pearls and in her other hand was a gold chain that the pearls had once been attached to. They were a dull white now, almost a grey as if they were dirty. Bellatrix Lestrange sighed, pulling out her wand and muttered Reparo before slipping the pearls back onto her wrist. When they had come to take her to Azkaban she had destroyed the bracelet and with wandless magic she embedded the individual pearls and golden band into her prison clothes until she had escaped.

She choked on a sob when she remembered Abrahams words. “They turn black and stop beating when I’ve stopped loving you.” He still loved her. The pearls were still beating faintly against her thing wrist and as dim as they were they were nowhere close to black.

“Oi, Trix!” a voice like chocolate bellowed from a distance.

Automatically she screamed back. “Bella, or Bellatrix! Not bloody Trix! How many times do I have to say it, Chryses?"

“About four times a day!” the voice answered back.

She froze. It couldn’t be. She turned slowly, her face a portal to the turmoil he had caught her experiencing. It was him Abraham Chryses. Her Abraham. He wasn’t different at all, and yet he totally was. Long stubble grew on the bottom half of his face as if he hadn’t shaven for a week or two. His eyes— no she dare not look into their golden depths. His skin was just as golden as ever matching his hair, and he was just as tall. And his lips were quirked up in that smile of his, albeit a sad smile but still.

She looked down to make it easier to not look into his eyes. “Why is it,” she began when he got close enough for her to look at his feet. “That you every time I see you I start to cry?” she sniffled, finally giving up and looking into his eyes.

And then the moment her deep brown ones locked with his smoldering gold ones they were quickly thrown back deep into their minds where they were reminded of their last meeting. About twenty years earlier.

 

Chapter 2: The Lake of Erised
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Her eyes were the same deep brown as always—bottomless. A dark chasm that pulled you in to be lost forever, only . . . he wasn’t lost in those eyes. She looked lost. And that look brought him back to the end of their lives.

Abraham wasn’t angry—not anymore. He looked like a fallen angel; like the rest of his family. Only he looked more real. He was the saddest being to walk the earth, if only someone would take the time to notice. He faked a smile as he shook hands with Cygnus Black as he entered his mansion. Bellatrix’s father seemed surprised to see the young man but said nothing as he welcomed him to the ceremony and to walk through the house and out to the backyard where everyone was meeting.

Abraham felt like he was deaf to everything but his heartbeat and his footsteps against the expensive wood floor that didn’t have so much as a scuff mark. He was in her house. It reminded him of a church almost. It was dark but there was enough light to see detail if you took the time to look. He didn’t take the time though. Abraham could see her almost everywhere: in that alcove reading a book; playing chess at that chess table; in that dining room eating dinner; in that seat to the right of her father that she had told him about. It was as if he had been here before, as if he knew every nook and cranny of the place. Maybe that was because he knew every nook and cranny of Bellatrix. He saw her again just three feet away from him, her face the emotionless mask that was taught to so many of the Blacks. He couldn’t stay in the house any longer. He was afraid that the real Bellatrix would pop out of nowhere and he wasn’t ready for that.

He found the glass doors that led to the backyard and took a seat in the second to last row on the right at the very edge. He watched as the magical instruments played a traditional pureblood piece. It sounded odd to him. Much too sad for a wedding. Then again this was a marriage that merely bounded a pureblood with another pureblood. It wasn’t supposed to be happy. He wished it was though— happier music wouldn’t seal his fate so tightly.

There was a man standing at the altar now. Rodolphus Lestrange. He looked exactly as Abraham remembered him from school. Tall and pale with dark hair that curled around his temples. His eyes were ice blue and actually looked genuinely happy. Abraham had always figured that Lestrange had liked Bellatrix and that’s what kept him from hating the lucky bastard. He had to love her. He looked so happy up there, so happy and oblivious to the sad music playing just fifteen paces to his left. I would’ve been him, he thought. He could have been happy, he could have been the one standing at the altar, he could have been the one who got Bellatrix. It could’ve happened. It should’ve happened. It would’ve happened. But it didn’t.

Suddenly he felt the world tumble around him as everyone around him turned backwards to watch the bride walk down the aisle. He didn’t dare turn; didn’t dare blink; didn’t dare twitch as he felt her presence come closer and closer. He stared at the groom and his grinning face. Abraham wanted to throw up. She passed by his row and the smell of the freshest roses slammed into him and brought him a numb calmness. She hadn’t spotted him. Then her smell reached his nostrils. He closed his eyes. She was like a refreshing summer breeze. He kept his eyes closed until he heard in a soft soprano voice utter the words that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

“I do.”

Abraham stood to his feet and escaped back into the house as everyone applauded the newly wedded couple.

O.0.O.0.O

Abraham leaned against the wall of the long hallway his breathing ragged—he felt as though he had just run miles at top speed.

“Hey, Chryses,” a vaguely familiar voice called out. Abraham opened his eyes and followed the voice into the sitting room farther down the hall. There lounging on one of the comfortable couches was Sirius Black. “Didn’t know you were invited to this shindig,” the boy said lazily popping a grape into his mouth from the bowl that rested on his stomach.

Abraham hadn’t seen Sirius since he was still at Hogwarts; it’s been three years since then. “I wasn’t,” he answered shortly. “So you’ll be a fourth year won’t you?” he asked his fellow Gryffindor.

“Yup,” he said nonchalantly. 

“How’s Potter?” he asked remembering that the two of them were inseparable when he had last seen them.

“Good. He sent me a letter just last week announcing his captainship of the quiditch team.” He sucked on another grape. “Are we done with the small talk?”

Abraham looked taken aback. “Um . . .?”

“Sit down,” the boy said gesturing to a large armchair across from him. Once he was seated Sirius spoke again, another grape in his mouth of course. “Now why would a Gryffindor pureblood, like myself be here at a wedding in a snakepit?” He paused smiling a little at the golden haired boy.

Abraham gave him a guarded look, his eyes squinting at the corners. “You lost me.”

“The only person here that you really know happens to be the bride, is she not?”

“What are you getting at?”

Suddenly all traces of amusement disappeared from the younger boys face. His grey 
eyes were stormy as he sat up and rested his elbows against his knees as he leaned towards Abraham. “I saw you with her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Black,” he scoffed leaning back into his chair, 
desperately wishing he hadn’t asked Bellatrix to dance three years ago. Look where it had left him. He felt like his heart had been carved away, followed by his lungs and yet he continued to live.

“You were in your seventh year. She was in her fifth. She wore a green and black dress with ballet shoes on. I was there. I saw you dance with her,” Sirius said.

“No you didn’t. Besides second years and bellow weren’t invited to the Holiday Soiree—you couldn’t have been there,” he denied easily. Gryffindor’s could be good liars too.

“First off: are you trying to say that I’m a liar?” before Abraham could respond the boy continued. “And second, I’m Sirius bloody Black, being a first year doesn’t stop me from walking into the Great Hall. Besides you weren’t invited to this wedding, but here you are? Why?”

Abraham was silent as he stared at Bellatrix’s cousin. They looked much too similar.

“I know you love Bellatrix,” he said.

“Yippee you figured it out! What does it matter to you?” he spat, frustratingly. “Do you want a reward or something?” Abraham pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t ever want to hear her name again. It brought him so much happiness, a happiness that he knew he wouldn’t feel the likes of again.

“She used to be my favorite cousin, you know,” the younger boy said after a moment. 



“She was like my older sister. Andromeda and Narcissa too. But I met Bellatrix first. She was the third person to hold me when I was a baby. She used to remind me of that all the time. I felt closest to her.” Sirius shrugged. “Then she started hating me so . . . we’re not that close.”

Abraham looked into his eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”

He shrugged again. “Because.” Sirius reached into the bowl of grapes that he had set beside him on the couch and tossed Abraham a fat green one before throwing one up in the air and catching it with his mouth. “We both lost her.”

“That makes me feel loads better,” Abraham sneered.

“And you’re wondering why you even bothered to come here,” Sirius continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. The broken man across from him watched him expectantly as he chew on his grape. “It’s because you’re a lot like me, Chryses. We’re here because of the same reason.” Sirius stretched across the couch again crossing his arms tightly as he glowered at the ceiling above him.

“Oh?”

“She’s not my favorite cousin anymore, not by a long shot. And she’s probably not your favorite person in the world right now. I don’t much like her anymore. I even hate her a bit. But hate is still a feeling isn’t it? I don’t feel nothing towards her, and neither do you. Despite all that she’s done to us,” he shrugged again, “we still care about her. That’s why we’re here. Well granted my parents forced me anyways but still she’s the reason we’re both here.”

“Sirius?” a voice called from the entrance to the sitting room. Both boys looked up and found a dark honey haired young witch. She glanced at Abraham and nodded.

Sirius jumped up and bounded across the room and brought his arm around her shoulder. “Well if it isn’t my favorite cousin,” he said grinning. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Andromeda was a short little thing. Even though Sirius was four years younger than her he towered over her.

“You’re the one who’s in my house, Sirius,” she said rolling her eyes.

“Details, details,” he drawled with a dismissive wave of the hand. “So what do you want?”

“A talk,” she turned to Abraham. “Unless of course I was interrupting you two,” she said politely.

The golden haired boy shook his head standing up. “No, no we were done. The bride was beautiful wasn’t she?” he asked without thinking. He saw Sirius give him a sad look.

Andromeda smiled. “Yes, she was. She was a nervous wreck last night though. It wasn’t like her at all.”

“Nervous wreck?” Sirius scoffed. “I could hear her wails from across the mansion.”

“Wails?” Abraham inquired, curious and a little concerned.

“Well she was obviously nervous about her big day wasn’t she?” Andromeda said. Abraham wondered why she had suddenly become very pale. “Sirius I really do need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Sirius said giving her a worried glance. “Well take care of yourself, Chryses.”

“Sure.”

Abraham stood there alone for a moment, just thinking. His feet started carrying him throughout the house aimlessly. He barely registered the party from outside as he passed a few windows here and there.

It wasn’t hard to hate Bellatrix. It could be so easy for him to just despise every little pore, every little hair, every little thing that belonged to her. He’s always hated her, just a little bit. It’s like loving a dragon. You may love their scales, their tail, their wings, their eyes, their talons, their teeth but once they turn their breath of flame on you, you begin to hate them even if you don’t notice it. He had always thought of Bellatrix as a dragon but without the fire. At first he thought of her as a snake, which was rational. She always seemed coldblooded, always held her head up higher as if sniffing the air for something new. He half expected her sometimes to have a forked tongue. But then he got to know her and she became so much more than just a snake. She was a lot freer than she made herself out to be. She had wings. She was a flying serpent.

She couldn’t burn you, but she could poison you with the worst kind of poison; a slow poison that had no cure. He felt it inside him now.

He wanted to hate her for it. He should hate her for it.

Why couldn’t he?

Abraham looked around and saw that he had climbed a few sets of stairs into a small hallway that had only one door. He shrugged and opened the door. Before him was a large room with a large bed to match. The sheets were torn from the bed and had holes and rips as though they had been attacked by a vicious tiger. The floor was covered with clothes with rips in them as well.

What the hell?

He stepped into the room and heard a voice yell annoyed, “Mother, I said I would be down soon!”

The door to the walk in bathroom was swung open to reveal Bellatrix Bl—Lestrange, now. Hate her, hate her, hate her. Why couldn’t he do it?

Oh yeah, he thought looking into her bloodshot eyes, I love her. She stared at him her eyes and mouth wide open. He looked her up and down, she was no longer in her white flowing wedding gown but in the undergarments underneath. She was sufficiently covered of course by the dressy linen, but it was made to be thin.

“Hello, Mrs. Lestrange,” he said, his eyes resting on the ring on her finger.

She sucked in a sharp intake of breath before giving him an icy glare and tearing the ring off her finger and throwing it as hard as she could at his head. It barely missed him and he didn’t even flinch.

“Does your husband know that I gave you that bracelet?” he continued. He discovered that even though he couldn’t hate her, he could still be mean to her. He wanted to hate her but he couldn’t. He wanted to be mean to her and he found that he could. It was all he had.

“Stop it,” she said rushing towards him and pounding on his chest with her fists. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!” She screeched. He looked down at her with his sad, oh so sad golden eyes. He bit his lip as he brushed her cheek with his thumb.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s about time you know how much hurt you make everyone feel around you.” Abraham kissed her roughly, so roughly that her teeth scrapped at the inside of her mouth drawing blood. She wanted to pull away and when he realized this he guided her backwards, nearly shoving her onto her bed, pushing her further and further into the mattress. Abraham kissed her with as much anger, as much sadness, as much desperation that was being trapped inside him. He knew she was scared as she shook beneath him, but she dug her nails into his scalp smashing his lips closer to hers. His tongue ravaged her mouth mercilessly and his teeth bit at her lips giving her a sick pleasure. It put life back into her.

She wondered how she could’ve gone three years without his kisses.

He wondered how he would live the rest of his life without her.

He pulled at her hair painfully to the side and she cried out as he nibbled his way up and down her jaw, her neck. He ran his warm tongue across her collarbone. He pulled her hair again as covered her lips with his and she screamed into his mouth, biting on his tongue. That one reaction made him want to continue— made him want to rip her clothes off and ravish her. But he had done what he needed to do. She knew how he felt now. He was as complete and whole as he could ever be.

He kept his hand in a tight fist as he grazed his teeth against her lip once more before getting up and heading for the door. He whipped at his lips, disposing the evidence of her blood red lipstick. He looked back at her. She had her hand on her forehead as if she had a major headache. Her smeared with so much lipstick that she looked as though she had drunk a barrel of blood. Her brown eyes were wide open staring up at the ceiling. She reminded him of Sirius for a moment.

“I’ll always love you, Trix—,”

“Don’t call me that,” she interrupted automatically.

“Have a happy life,” he said harshly before walking out of the room, walking out of the house. He opened his hand and unfolded the picture he had taken from under her pillow. He smiled softly. It was of Bellatrix when she was five years old. She was holding a small baby. The baby was giggling and pulling at Bellatrix’s hair while she just smiled down at him, periodically touching his face or looking up at the camera.

He turned around and looked back up. He saw a figure standing at the highest window watching him. She was like the girl from the muggle story—Rapunzel, who was trapped in the tallest tower. He wished he could save her. Abraham smiled at her sadly before turning on the spot and apparating back home, where he broke down and began destroying everything he could lift.

Reality    

Abraham continued to stare at her, his head cocked to the side and the largest smile plastered to his face. He tried so hard to stay away from her in the past twenty years telling himself that it would bring him nothing but hurt. But it didn’t. It brought him happiness.

Bellatrix Lestrange had imagined for the longest time that if she would see him again she would be happy. Every night she would dream about him. But then she was sent to Azkaban and there was nothing bright in her world. No Abraham. The sun didn’t even seem to grace Azkaban with light. She looked at him a lump in her throat. She had thought she would be happy. But she wasn’t. She felt hurt.

Her hand was wrapped around her wand—or her temporary wand. Damn that Potter. She stood up from her crumpled heap.

“You’re hair is the same,” she said wonderingly.

Abraham furrowed his eyebrows grinning. “My hair is more grey than it is blond, Bellatrix.”

She blinked, shaking her head a little. “So it is.” Her eyes were clear for a moment 
searching for his face. What she was looking for he didn’t know and neither did she for her eyes turned glassy. “Gold,” the Death Eater said quickly.

“Excuse me?” he said confused.

“You’re hair wasn’t ever blond. It was gold. You’re eyes were gold too.” She stepped closer to him, her face inches away from his. “They’re still gold. You’re skin was gold,” she reached out her hand and touched his cheek. “It’s still gold.” She looked at her own hand and noticed the ring there. As if she had been burned she snatched her hand away from him.

 Bellatrix Lestrange pulled the offending rock off and held it close to her face, her glare murderous. Suddenly she spat at the ring throwing it to the ground and pummeling it with her foot.

“Bella?” Abraham called nervously.

She looked up at him as if forgetting he was there. She screamed a sob following short after threatening to tear her apart from the inside. But she wouldn’t cry. She would never cry, not again, not in front of him. Why she had worn it for all these years she did not understand. She didn’t understand anything anymore. She didn’t understand magic, didn’t understand why the grass was green and the sky was blue, she didn’t understand why oxygen was vital for survival. She didn’t understand why her body continued to live when all she felt was dead inside.

She could have done something. She wasn’t supposed to just sit around and let everything happen. She was not supposed to be married. Not so young, not to that man. She was not supposed do everything she had been told to do. She was not supposed to let the man she loved think that nothing would go back to normal. She was not supposed to lie around like a distressed princess waiting for her prince to save her. She was supposed to save herself.

Why hadn’t she? It could have been done so easily.

Her eyes dry as a thirsty throat she drew out her wand and pointed it at the ring. “Reducto!” A million little particles of the diamond flew in every direction. Abraham watched them dance in the wind as they made their descent to the ground below.

“I wanted to do that myself, actually,” he said beaming.

“Well I’ve had to wear it all these years so I have the right to destroy it,” she said softly. She turned to him once again. “What are you even doing here? More importantly, where am I?” Her eyes moved everywhere that but him, darting from place to place.

“You’re on my property next to the Lake of Erised.” Unlike the escaped Death Eater before him he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Her hair was as black as always with a few grey streaks that to him made her look even more threatening. He always felt threatened by her. “It has magical properties along with that bracelet on your wrist. Might I ask what the Lake showed you?” his voice much to chipper for Bellatrix’s liking.

“My old owl,” she lied. “Why?”

“It shows what you have lost and what you most wish you could have back. So you lost your owl?” he asked taking a step closer. “Funny, you never told me about an owl.” He continued to move closer.

She had recognized his motives, marveling in how easily she could still read him. She took a step back for each step he took forward. “I was young when she died. It traumatized me and I never wanted to talk about her,” she provided quickly.

“Is that the only thing that traumatized you?”

“Yes.”

He was smirking now, seeming to know something she didn’t. There was a sparkle in his eyes that had been dormant for many a night. “Really?”

Suddenly the ground under her feet disappeared and she fell backwards nearly as gracefully as a ballerina. Suddenly she was enveloped with a pain much worse than the Torture Curse. It had the same cruelty as many knives stabbing into her flesh but it held something else. Like a hand as shocking as lightening reaching into her stomach and twisting it before moving up and puncturing her lungs before finally yanking out her heart.

She opened her eyes. She was inside the Lake of Erised, but it didn’t feel like a lake. She could actually breathe in it, yet she still felt wet, the weight of her robes dragging her down . . . down . . . down. Her feet reached the bottom and suddenly there was an explosion of light and for a minute she couldn’t possibly say where she was. She closed her eyes tightly.

Suddenly golden light that seeped through her eyelids disappeared only to be replaced by a deafening sound. And she was suddenly reawakened. In front of her was Molly Weasley and around her millions of other wizards fighting for their lives against other wizards. Subconciously she realized that she sent the Killing Curse at the redheaded woman. It missed. She laughed.

Who was she? Who had she become? Sure she had always been a nasty girl. Someone who would hold a magnifying glass over any poor helpless insect and watch them as they are burned to a crisp, but always out of curiosity and anger, never out of insanity. When had all this happened?

She watched, just as helplessly as an insect, Molly Weasley raise her wand; watched as a green jet of light shot through the air, rolling towards her like electricity. She cocked her head to side just a fraction, marveling at its cruel beauty. She felt her heart stop, felt her lungs freeze and fill with liquid, heard herself choke, and let her mind slip away into nothingness. Down . . . down . . . down she went.

O.0.O.0.O

“Trix,” a voice whispered in the darkness. Her eyes snapped opened and she stared into the angelic eyes of melted gold.

“Abraham, what are you doing? Get out of the way before the curse hits you!” she screamed panicked, trying and failing in pushing him to the side.

He chuckled, tightening his hold her around her waist. “I’ve been dead for months, Trix. And I think that’s the first time you haven’t scolded me for calling you that.”

“Wait, what?”

“I was killed in one of the Death Eater Raids.”

Bellatrix looked around herself and for a moment she was confused. She was still by the Lake of Erised. She hadn’t fallen in, he was holding her just centimeters from the edge, her body half limp in her arms.

“Am I dead too? Why are we still here? If you’re dead how can you be here with me? Are we both dead?”

“You’re dead. You’ve been dead. The Lake of Erised only exists in the Realm of the Dead. It has a replica on the Realm of the Living but it doesn’t have any magical properties. It is said that the Mirror of Erised started as a single piece of white cloth being dropped into this lake only to resurface in the Lake of Erised on earth as a mirror.”

She gave him a look. “I can’t be in heaven can I?”

He shook his head sadly. “No. You’re in more of your own personal limbo. It’s meant to keep you separated from other spirit—like a solitude. I can only come here because I’m a—,”

“Angel?” she said grinning, always believing it to be so. “I knew it.”

He laughed, “No, just an exalted being.”

She smiled at him. Oh how she missed him. She brought her hand up and noticed how smooth and healthy it looked. She looked down at herself and saw that she was wearing a green dress that reached her knees and ballet shoes with ribbons that wound up her legs like ivy. She touched her face with her fingers. Her lips weren’t chapped, nor were her cheeks sunken in and bony. She touched her hair and felt a luxurious texture it hadn’t retained in a long while.

“I’m . . .”

“Going to kiss me now?” he suggested his grin infectious.

She leaned up on the tips of her toes and did as he asked. She rememorized his face, tracing her fingers across every dip and bump.

“I missed you,” he said breaking the kiss and burying his face into the crook of her neck breathing in her scent. A scent he thought was worthy of heaven. Suddenly she pulled away rushing to the side of the Lake of Erised once more. “What are you doing?” he asked following her.

He watched as she slid the pearl bracelet off her wrist and held it out, above the rippling lake. “I have an idea. Do you have any nephews?” She choked around her next words, “sons?”

“No, just nephews and nieces.”

“Give me a name of one.”

 “Peter Ryan Chryses. Why, though?” he asked his eyebrows furrowed, and locked on the fingers holding the bracelet.

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were closed, and she was mouthing the name Peter Ryan Chryses over and over. Then she released the pearls letting them drop into the Lake of Erised and watched as they were pulled down . . . down . . . down.

“I think it should be returned to the Chryses family so they can continue their tradition,” she said wrapping an arm around his waist, when the pearl bracelet had finally disappeared from view.

O.0.O.0.O

A young man with gold hair and a long face walked through the halls of the half destroyed castle. He made his way out onto the grounds of the beautiful school. He hadn’t gone there, opting to experiment with Beauxbatons, but now he wish he had. He was about to haul another lifeless body over his shoulder when a sudden pain momentarily distracted him. He looked around himself and a glimmering white caught his eyes just two feet away.

It couldn’t be.

Hesitantly he bent down and took the glimmering object in his hand. It was a pearl bracelet. His jaw fell slack and he looked up into the sun.

It had been missing for over two decades, and somehow it was he would continue the tradition. Humbly he slid the heirloom into his pocket vowing to give it to his true love.