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09 August 2009 @ 04:02 pm
Toccata and Fugue [Sirius x Bellatrix]  

Title: Toccata and Fugue
Pairing: Sirius x Bellatrix
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Angst, Tragedy, Introspection
Rating: PG
Word Count: 602

A/N: Old fic; repost.

Toccata and Fugue

Sirius Black was leaving for good this evening, and Bellatrix felt peculiarly satisfied. Like she wanted this, like it was inevitable, like she knew this as what was supposed-to-happen. Meant-to-be.

She swallowed all that intoxicated complacency with great delight and decided that a cigarette was necessary for proper, ceremonious, unbridled joy.

--

Once, she had no home.

Now, he had none.

And the world was in order, the first in a long, long time.

--

His mother was shrieking and screaming and yelling at the dead to rise. For the demon king to resurrect, a second (another) reign. The interregnum had been stuffed with dread and dole. But she was certain he was a parasite to be exterminated and wholly, completely, irrefutably wrongfully right.

Right.

Bellatrix spit her anger in spirals of loathing onto him. Has never been so vile before.

Let’s go, you and I.
Let’s leave and never come back.
Just like it was before.

C’mon, we can let the children cry their eyes blind in the dead of the night. When the world’s wickedness and the saints’ effulgence can’t see us no more ‘cause we might as well be long-gone. Always invisible, you know.

She can just imagine him narrowing his eyes at her—into slits, bloodstained and cold, like corpses wilting for days on old. And asking: what the hell are you doing?

Waiting for her to snap back (like another part of their dull repartees): I’m about to knock some sense into your thick head.

All the while she stands watching his half-buttoned shirt flying past her and out the door

—without a second glance back.

Just breeding malevolence fulminating, slamming in reverse.

--

Tonight, she drinks herself into oblivion, into abyss, down into hell where she’ll finally feel comfortable and home.

Only, the wine tastes acrid, burning through her mouth, her tongue, her made-fake refinement. Tastes like fire, tastes like salt, tastes like a thousand bullet tears that never came out.

And Bellatrix learns: humanity comes with an excruciating price.

--

She sees him again three months later, laughing with his friends in a different compartment on the train. Regaling them with his own particular brand of thrashed-in elegance. Her hand hovers over the brass handle for a moment and without discretion, she almost hands him her heart.

(Which would have been the perfect weapon come years later, but for now, that was merely “almost”.)

--

More months pass with a lambent, half choked light smoldering in between conflagrations. Like Chinese lanterns, paper cut to be thin and demonic—deceptively—beautiful. They cloud minds and inhibit judgment, but Bellatrix does not forget.

How memory is a tricky thing, terribly oblique and ironically giddy.

She doesn’t say anything more to him, tells herself that he’s dead. That Narcissa was right. That Sirius Black was a purebred fool.

Let’s go, you and I.

Yeah, you and me, and all the ghosts sneaked, tucked between us. We’ll get out of this place and never look back.

Just you wait.

Then, she catches a sight of him and for some reason, all previous thoughts evaporated, aired out through chimney-roofs.

“Just you wait.”

--

Last night, she did an awful, unforgivable thing.

And now, he is no more.

And she really has no aches or rues or scruples, except that she hadn’t exactly been the one to send him off. Not precisely. Just almost (nearly, barely, for the millionth chance with eternity vanished). But even now, it’s not so quiet with all the music and dancing reverberating through her skull.

Hush, here comes the second movement (her favorite).


 
 
 
amelia: incessant blatherermeelsie_love78 on August 10th, 2009 09:08 am (UTC)
I like it. A lot. Very clever and fascinating, in a dark, decayed way. Which is Bellatrix, utterly.
And strangely enough, just yesterday I used Toccata and Fugue in a Black Family fanmix. Weird.
Y U no auto-translate?lye_tea on August 10th, 2009 09:13 am (UTC)
Toccata and Fugue is one of my favorite musical compositions. :)
Y U no auto-translate?lye_tea on August 10th, 2009 09:13 am (UTC)
P.S. If you don't mind, could you link me to your fanmix?
amelia: incessant blatherer: cissy wild horsesmeelsie_love78 on August 11th, 2009 06:16 am (UTC)
I'd be more than happy to, except I'm nowhere near finished yet!

At the mo' it's all-classical, inspired by 'Danse Macabre' to begin. I had this crazy image of Narcissa, going a bit off the deep end during DH, imagining all her dead ancestors rising to dance in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor at midnight, with Bella cackling with sick glee.

Or something. Perhaps I should put more effort into actually making the fmix/writing the accompanying fic than just thinking about it, no?
Y U no auto-translate?lye_tea on August 11th, 2009 06:18 am (UTC)
Ooh, sounds interesting. Well, when you're done a link would be greatly appreciated. :)