Don't Believe the Hype

two fics for the price of one!

Tue, 12 Oct 2004 04:03:58 GMT

Whoo! Okay, the HP one is Lily-centric, of course, and really, really sad. I mean it. I hate angst, but this one came to me, wouldn't let go and so... yeah. That's why it's first. The second one is FMA (OMG, you mean there are other fandoms?!?! WTF?!). So unbelieveably fluffy I think it should be banned.

Psalm 23 by Rumors

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

Lily removed the last of the Halloween decorations from the ceiling with ease. Granted, it had taken James reminding her that she was a witch to use a charm to clean up the house with her wand. She was born and raised a muggle and some things didn’t change.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters.

The window broke, glass flying into the house. She flung her arms up to shield her face. Her arms were covered in blood. Lowering her arms, she saw a green light and a silhouette of a person walking the same path children in costumes had earlier that night. It only took a second to realize that they had been betrayed. Their faith in Peter misplaced. Lily’s heart broke a little at that.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.

“Lily, run!” James screamed. That jolted her back into the present. She hesitated. Go. Stay. James. Too many choices. She wanted to fight, she wanted to protect. “The baby! Get Harry, run!” he yelled again. That was the last she saw of him, running out of the house, wand held high. His glasses were slightly askew, dust settled on his fine black hair. He had looked at her with so much love.

She couldn’t stand there much longer, so she ran. Harry, her baby, their baby. Get him to safety. Where is safe? Hogwarts. Dumbledore. She ran up the stairs. Harry had started to cry.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.

Stairs. Hallway. Room. Baby. Lily picked up Harry, trying to quiet him down. She grabbed random things and put them in a small bag. Essentials. And only for Harry.

Harry stopped crying just long enough for Lily to hear, “Avada Kedavra!” from downstairs. James was dead. He never would have said those words. She froze; her mind unable to truly understand that her husband was dead. Then Harry wailed. She realized she had left her wand downstairs.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

She dropped the bag and went to the window. Someone was coming up the stairs, and she did want to think about who that someone could be. The window was an old, heavy construction that was difficult to open under normal circumstances. Between the sweat on one hand and Harry in the other it was impossible. But she wouldn’t put Harry down. She wouldn’t let go of her baby.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

“Give me the child and I will spare you,” he said. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You-Know-Who. Voldermort. Evil.

Lily kneeled on the floor, hysterical. Some small part of her mind that was still rational tried to get her to do something, anything rather than just sitting there. So she did. “No, not Harry!” she screamed. No one, no one would harm her child while she still lived. She had loved him even before he had been born, and she would be damned if she was going to let him be taken without a fight. “You cannot have my son!”

Voldermort leveled his wand at her and calmly cast the killing curse. The last thing she heard was the dark wizard’s voice hissing just below the wail of her son, just before her body fell to the floor.

Amen.

A Family Man? by Rumors

Roy wandered from stall to stall in the marketplace, idly picking at fruit and vegetables for dinner tonight. Dinner with Riza, like every night of the week. At home. It was strange, for a man who had so long dated woman after woman to find himself tied down to a home, a woman, a life. And he liked it. That was very disturbing at first.

She never put up with any of his tricks, and even had him trained. Yes, trained. Thoroughly wiped. He was man enough to admit that. And yet. And yet, he was happy. He felt lighter, freer.

Whistling some random notes, he paid for his purchases and left the market. What had begun to disturb him lately were small imaginings, almost fantasies of children with black hair and reddish-brown eyes running around their house. That was a new one. He could concede that he enjoyed being a taken man, but to admit that he wanted children.

He was turning into Hughes.

Roy stopped on the sidewalk in front of their house. Black Hyate was in the yard burying another bone. He could see Riza in the sitting room through the large picture window. And he wondered, would it really be so bad? Probably.

But why not? He would talk to Riza about it over dinner.

Whoo! Lookit me write! No hands!

Tue, 05 Oct 2004 06:17:57 GMT

This is just a personal copy of Dolph's little RP kind of thing from over at IB. I like it. I'm sure there's stuff wrong with it though, as its kind of un-beta'd. *shrugs*

Hollow Man by Rumors

He padded from his bedroom to the bathroom. He never looked in the mirror anymore. What he saw wasn’t right anyway. Dolph remembered being a young man with barely any hair on his face. Good looking, fit, sane. The thing staring back at him was not him. It couldn’t be. He had to shave regularly, something he never remembered having to do. And he had gotten so thin, so sick. Maybe, maybe he could have put up with the physical changes if only he could have done away with the way his eyes stared back into him. Asking, prodding, taunting, gloating, jeering. It made his head hurt. What was that phrase? “Look into the abyss and it looks back.” That’s what had happened. He had looked for so long into the emptiness that he had become the emptiness. It had taken everything that was him and left a shell, full of its own nothingness.

Nothing… nothing… nothing… empty. Full of half memories and whispers of feeling. Faint traces that he could hold onto for a short while and believe that yes, he loved Bast still. He loved Bella. He still believed in his Lord with all the fervor of a convert. Then he would lose his grip and fall back into himself. The nothingness. The void.

That was what Azkaban did. He turned the shower on and got in. It ate away at you. Bit by bit it took and took. To survive he got small, curled up inside his own mind, surrounded himself with thoughts and formulas and facts. But to go from big to small you had to cut away everything you didn’t need. So he fed them. Fed them everything he dared lose. And then hid. Then they left him alone. He had tricked them. Dolph remembered laughing when they had stopped coming. It wasn’t because it was funny. It was because that was the only thing he could do. He had laughed in that strange mechanical way of someone who knows what they have to do, but only because they read the manual. Alone… he had been alone. The water washed over him. He liked being clean. Azkaban was so dirty.

So he thought, and thought. And he didn’t like where those thoughts went. Murderer! Criminal! Monster! They whispered and caressed. Nasty, awful thoughts. He had done what was right. Didn’t those idiots see that? No. Never did see. Never could see. His hands clenched in fists. Jaw muscles twitched. He wasn’t those things. He was Rodolphus Lestrange. Their better. They were monsters. Right? Yes. No. He was. Monster. Evil thing. Bad thing. Got caught. Shamed the family. No! He grabbed hold of his breathing, forcing himself to be calm. It was a trick he had learned. Don’t get worked up or they’ll come and drain you dry. And if you were drained already, they could still feed off your misery, which was easy enough to feel in their presence even for the prisoners who had been there the longest.

He turned off the shower and stepped out. The mirror was fogged up. Good. He automatically dried himself and pulled on a pair of finely made pajamas. Stepping out into the sitting room he grabbed the pile of essays he had to grade. There was one good thing about this job and it was that he could assign the students enough work to keep him busy.

As he sat down, quill in hand, he idly wondered if someone hit him hard enough, would he echo?

Pressie!

Fri, 10 Sep 2004 21:39:36 GMT

Alright, this is for lennaofmidearth who needs a good Ron/Luna fic. But there's just one or two annoucements here. One: the gifting situation (and Sad Bear) is the brain child of myself and lennaofmidearth (mostly her due to Sad Bear being her's). And the Luna in this is heavily based on her Luna over at Infusco Bonitas -- Darkened Integrity. And lastly, thanks to rivendellrose for editing this for me. ^_^ Now! On with the fic.

Warning: Cuteness may be too much for the snarky.

Love in Orange by Rumors

She wore carrot earrings. Or rather she wore a carrot earring. Its mate had gotten lost, misplaced or simply not put on that morning. Whatever the reason, Ron could not help but stare, not at the earring, but at the other ear where something should be, but wasn’t. It bothered him.

The next day it was radishes. But this time, both ears were decorated. She noticed him looking at her again and turned to look back at him with those large eyes of hers. He looked away, embarrassed, but from being caught staring or from staring at Luna Lovegood, he couldn’t tell.

It seemed like she had a vegetable for every day of the week, and when she ran out of those she switched to fruits or odd-ball animals like platypus or one of the made up creatures they ran stories about in The Quibbler. He always noted what earrings she wore; every day at breakfast he would look for her across the Great Hall and squint at her to find out what she was wearing that day.

As the year wore on, her jewelry collection must have gotten muddled because the earrings started to become mismatched. Lemons and strawberries with strange animals, the vegetables had disappeared completely from her collection except for the single carrot earring. That always confused him, that single earring. Why didn’t she just put something in the other side, regardless of whether or not it matched. She did it with everything else. Then she caught him staring at the spot where a carrot earring should have been and smiled, and despite himself he smiled back.

During DA practices she wouldn’t wear any jewelry. He could understand why, but somehow it just didn’t seem right to him, to see her looking like the other girls who also divested themselves of rings and whatnot for practice. But then, when they were practicing tossing curses, they all took their shoes off to make things marginally safer and he saw she wore bright orange socks. He grinned at that.

It was the first Quidditch match of the season, against Hufflepuff. He wasn’t worried, mainly because they had just been forced to switch over all their Chasers as the previous lot had just graduated. The Slytherins still chanted “Weasley is our King,” but it didn’t bother him anymore after a year of continual exposure. He was just getting ready to go out when Luna grabbed his arm, and tucked a bright orange wildflower into a lapel of his uniform and left without a word.

Christmas was coming, and he had been able to get presents for everybody thanks to Fred and George helping out the family with profits from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. But he still had nothing for Luna. But why should he get her anything, anyway? It wasn’t like they were close friends. But he did think about her a lot and she always seemed to say the right thing when he was angry or otherwise upset. Yeah, he decided, he needed to get her something. But what? He wandered Hogsmeade looking through the normal gift shops, finding everything too… normal, too boring for Luna. She liked things that were unique, special. Past the gift shops and more into the normal shopping district of the village, a toy shop caught his eye. They had a bin outside for all the toys that were damaged or other people didn’t want. Right on top was a stuffed teddy bear. Getting closer he realized why some people might not want it. It was very sad looking and had garishly bright orange fur, but it looked like it needed to go to someone who would appreciate it. He had just the person in mind.

Quite a few of the DA had stayed for the Winter Hols, and they decided that they should have a Christmas celebration together. In a flurry of wrapping paper and childish glee, the whole of the gifting was over in a few minutes for most people. He wondered how Luna had fared. She had received pathetically generic gifts, quills, ink, and the like. Useful, but hardly the kind of things friends would give. It looked like Ginny had gotten her a new set of earrings, though. The last present seemed to puzzle her, and he watched avidly as she studied the wrapped bundle. She turned it over in her hands, as if trying to divine the contents, and then she visibly brightened once she read the small tag: To: Luna From: Ron. She looked up at him, grinning broadly and tilted her head at him. He got up and walked over to her.

“You know, I got you something,” she said without preamble. “But I didn’t want to put it under the tree.”

He sat down by her. “Well, you could give it to me now, and we could open our presents together.”

That dreamy smile again. “Just what I was thinking.” Then a box appeared before him, wrapped in bright orange paper. He grinned and began to assault the hapless box. She had made him a scarf, out of about fifty different materials, but it somehow looked good like everything that was there belonged where it was. And he needed a new scarf too, but Mum was too busy to make them anymore. “Thanks, Luna, it’s great.” He glanced over to Luna to find her staring at him with unabashed joy, the disturbing little bear in her lap. “So, you like it, then?” he asked.

“I love it,” she said. He scooted a little closer.

Boy, did he ever get teased about “cozying up to his stalker” later that day. Harry had been the worst, but once Ron threatened to throttle him if the other boy insulted Luna one more time, the teasing stopped. No one, he thought, should be teased just because they were different or believed in weird things. Hermione only smiled at him in a strangely proud way. Ginny kept giggling, but he knew she was more laughing at him than anything else, and she had done that for long it was pointless to get her to stop.

Later in the winter, they hosted Wizarding War orphans at Hogwarts. Ron had suggested they all make desserts with the kids, and Luna told everybody her recipe for spiced apples. That had promptly landed the two of them the duty of putting the whole thing together and supervising it. That afternoon had gone down as one of Ron’s favorites. It had taken some time for the kids to open up to the two of them, but Luna’s serene nature and dreamy smiles had drawn them to her as she showed them how to put the recipe together. They set them to bake to get them warm and Ron ran them around outside in the perfect snow. That, of course, had resulted in all the kids ganging up on him and Luna laughing in the background. Hermione had come out then, saying that dinner was ready for them and they ran back inside. Ron lay down in the snow for a little while, looking up at the grey sky. Then Luna’s face came into view. She was wearing an orange hat that clashed horribly with the rest of her clothes. As she smiled down at him, he noticed that her eyes seemed a little more focused when she looked at him.

He stood, brushed himself off, and was promptly hit with a snowball. Ron turned around in time to see Luna running away, giggling. He easily caught up to her and picked her up, just now realizing how tiny she was especially in comparison to him. Throwing her over his shoulder he walked back out to where the snow was the deepest. “Now,” he said, “Did you think I’d let you get away with that? Sorry, love, but you’ve got an appointment with a snow bank here.”

“What’d you call me?” Her voice wasn’t breathless, but it had a different lilt to it that caught him off guard. He set her down, not in the snow bank.

“What’ya mean?” Ron, Merlin bless him, was a bit oblivious.

“Love. You called me ‘love,’” she said earnestly.

“Yeah… I did.” He was still trying to understand what was so important.

“I like it when you call me that.” She was completely focused on him now.

“Really? Well, then…” He trailed off, unsure of what to do. What did he feel about this tiny girl, really? Did he think she was loony? No. They had become good friends. He knew that. He was starting to realize that she did like him, a lot. While he though she was still looking up at him, focused and intent. It made him nervous, but in a good way like he didn’t want to mess anything up because he wanted to make her happy. Well, he’d risk it.

Ron leaned down and kissed her, just a quick peck on her lips, but as he pulled away she fair jumped on him to kiss him much more soundly. He was surprised for a moment and then became caught up in the kiss, holding her tightly to him. She tasted like oranges. The next day she wore carrot earrings, both of them.

drawn out thinking

Sun, 05 Sep 2004 03:37:21 GMT

Well, it looks like it happened, even though I hoped it wouldn't. I'm just too busy and tired to keep up all of my characters. I can't drop Bella or Ron, I know that. Bella doesn't need to do much anyway and she's prone to letting the kiddies play without her getting into things. I think of her as a spider, watching, weaving, wating, pouncing and killing when the time is right. Ron's just a goon, and easy to play, but he doesn't feel the pressing need to comment on everything. I will try to get him to talk to Harry, Hermione, Luna, etc. more though. Granted, he thinks he doesn't have much to say, but I'll try and prod him into it.

*sigh* Now Lily... I can't give her up, but I know I need to get her in more. And Lenna likes her so... keep Lily. I just wish I wouldn't be gone every time ADV explodes. Its kind of awkward to get her in after the fact.

And Dolph... Dolph doesn't do much, really. I think he's just Bella's sex toy, honestly, for all that I don't trot him out on IB. He's not much of a social guy, anyway. Kind of... not used to people anymore.

Man, I think that means.... I think that means Minerva's got to go. Bugger. But, when I think about it, she's the only logical choice. She doesn't do much, there's a bunch of other teachers whose players have better access to the net than I do at the moment, and Dal want the adults to take a more active role. I better go email Dal now and tell him. Blarg.

Entertainment

Mon, 23 Aug 2004 15:39:43 GMT

Did you know that there's a band called Harry and Potters? An acutal band, they have two CDs released. XD I wish I had a faster connection so I could listen to some of their songs, but if any one wants to listen here, tell me if they're any good. ^_^

Tue, 17 Aug 2004 16:19:08 GMT

To madammalfoy: *hugs*

Ron is too damned cute for his own good sometimes. I swear between that boy and Luna, I'm going to die from cuteness.

And gacked from theladyfeylene

My Your patronus is: is Arctic Fox.
Take Reveal Your Ridden Harry-Pottery Patronus today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.

My question, if the patronus' are all white in color, how can you tell if its an arctic fox or just a regular fox?

Why RPs fuck you up

Mon, 16 Aug 2004 20:23:40 GMT

Okay, I had Bella do something so monumentally stupid. She mentioned Voldie's real name. It was stupid. I knew it was stupid. I did it anyway. And of course Mr. Evil knew. And, fuck if he wasn't pissed. The thing that freaked me out was my own freaked out reaction. I actually started panicking about Voldie being upset. Actually freaking out. That's not right. I mean, I don't want her to be touble for my stupid mistakes. Blaaaarrrggg.... *headdesk* Sometimes I wish I wasn't so rushed feeling when I made replies and the like. You know, take time to see if something is stupid or not. My inner Bella fair yelled at me when I got Voldie's response.

Alright, I'm done freaking out now. Kind of.

OMG! A fic!

Sat, 14 Aug 2004 05:34:40 GMT

I've never been able to successfully finish a fic before now, and I blame the whole idea on rivendellrose. Bella and Cissa were having this long, rambling conversation over at ADV (as per usual) and the subject of the Black family portraits came up. So we came up with Mira, who was a very powerful woman back in the depths of Black family history, and was kind of a mentor to Bella. Of course Jen had to mention making a fic out of that, and the idea took over my brain. I have to thank, at least one more time, lennaofmidearth for betaing this for me. ^_^ Alright, here goes.

Amazons

Bella looked about the nursery, bored. Her sisters were babies. Andy was three and Cissa wasn’t even one yet! How could her mother expect her to play with them? Cissa wasn’t even in the nursery. She got up from where she was sitting, smoothed out her little dress – it was pink, a color her mother insisted all little girls loved and forced her to wear – and went to the large door of the play room. She picked her way over the toys strewn over the floor, knowing that it was Andy’s fault the room was like this. Bella always put her toys away, and out of reach of her sisters.

The nanny elf, Rolly, had left on a fake errand for Bella. It was now or never to escape. She slowly pushed on the door; just far enough to poke her head through and looked around to make sure the coast was clear. Not a parent or House Elf in sight, Bella opened the door wider to leave the nursery when a hand grabbed the hem of her dress. It was Andy, looking scared. “Don’t go, Bewwa. Mummy said we wewen’t to weave.”

Bella snorted and mustered all the arrogance a five year old could. “I’m five and I can go where I want. I’m the oldest.” In a fit of maliciousness she added, “Only babies stay in here.” With that Bella pushed Andy down and back into the room. The other girl looked like she was about to cry, but Bella’s warning glare silenced her. Bella made sure the door was firmly shut behind her before beginning her grand adventure.

Down the long hallway, she was Bellatrix the spy. Ducking behind tapestries and into small alcoves that held incredibly expensive works of art. Once she reached the end of the hall, the would be spy had a decision to make. Left, right, or forward. Going back was not an option she even thought of. What had her father said to her, not long ago? She leaned against a wall of an alcove, eyes closed, her hands pressed against the wood behind her. Trust the house, Bella. It knows you, has known you from the moment you were born. It will protect and guide you for as long as you live. Never will you be steered wrong by this house.

Bella opened her eyes. “I trust you, house,” she whispered. A moment. Then a few more. She felt it, a small sense of knowing the house, knowing where she could go to be alone for a few hours, or to get to the kitchens without ever being seen, what to push and pull to open the secret ways of her home. Not all was reveled to her, and she understood that the house would not give her everything right away. She had to prove her worth. And she knew that it would always inform her father of her whereabouts if he wished it, as was proper. But she could escape her mother, of that much she was certain.

She left the relative safety of the alcove and started down the path the house had suggested to her. Bella had never been to this part of the house, but dimly she knew it was the portrait gallery. Generation upon generation of Blacks had their likenesses hung here. It was not often that the portraits received visitors, so every single one of them hailed her with a greeting. She nodded to all of them, but kept going. The people here were former heads of the family and most of them men. The house instilled a sense that what she wanted was further down the line.

Soon the hallway would end. A tall window let in the bright summer sunlight that spot lit the dust motes dancing in this part of the house. “Hello child,” came a warm voice from her left. Bella turned, and was mightily impressed. It was a portrait of a woman, but not some small, thin boned woman like her mother. This woman was tall with a solid build, and beautiful. She was a warrior. Her long raven hair was swept back, to keep her dark blue eyes clear of unnecessary obstructions. The name plaque upon the portrait named this matriarch Mira. At that moment, Bella wanted nothing more than for Mira to be her mother. This was a woman she could have learned great things from, instead of having to sit though manners lessons.

“Hello,” Bella returned. Mira raised an eyebrow and Bella hastily added, “Ma’am.” Bella was annoyed at being bossed around by a portrait. But then Mira smiled widely, showing perfectly white teeth, and Bella felt honored.

“Now, who are you?” The tone was less than flattering.

“I am Bellatrix Black, the oldest.” This was stated proudly, with her chin defiantly thrust up and out.

Mira’s eyes widened in surprise and pleasure. “The oldest? Well, no wonder you are here then. It has been a good many years since a woman was the oldest of a generation of Blacks, but I doubt you will ever disappoint, Bellatrix. You are stronger than you know.”

The information about Bella’s importance and the kind words from the long dead woman were like a rush of wind that buoyed her upwards. “Please, call me Bella, ma’am.”

“Bella,” Mira said as if she was tasting the word for its fundamental characteristics. “Yes, I think I will. But do not forget the importance of your full name. And call me Mira. Ma’am is too stuffy.”

“Importance of my full name? What is it, Mira?” Bella’s curiosity, never that difficult to rouse, was fully invested in anything that involved herself.

“Bellatrix is the Amazon star,” Mira explained. Bella’s expression remained uncomprehending, but attentive. Mira continued. “The Amazons were a group of women warriors. They were proud and strong, and they did not head or fear any man.” At that, Bella’s eyes widened. So it was true. Women could be as strong, or stronger than men. They could rule themselves and others. Not all of her own gender was as weak as her mother or as eager to please as her aunt. It all made so much sense to her and made her recall the events of last week.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Malfoys were coming over for a visit. They had a son of about Bella’s age. Lucy-something, which was a funny name for a boy. The adults wanted to see if their children could get along. An alliance between the two families would have pleased them. All Bella knew was that she was forced into an uncomfortable dress, her hair had taken forever to do, and that she was not allowed to go running, jumping, or do anything fun today.

When the other family arrived, they came with a small blonde boy in tow. He was slight and fair, and he looked as miserable as Bella felt. As the introductions were made, the boy looked down at her, as if he was better than she was. Bella glared right back at him. Their mothers were oblivious. His father was praising Bella’s poise and assured her own father that his little girl would be quite a beauty one day. Her father said nothing. He caught his daughter’s eye and made a minimal gesture with his hand. “Go on outside,” was the indication.

Bella smiled with relief. She led the boy outside and kicked off her shoes and took off her socks. “Why are you doing that?” the small boy disdainfully asked.

“Because, it’s a bit muddy still and I don’t want to get my nice shoes dirty.” The statement was matter of fact. Bella was irritated with Lucy’s superior attitude.

Lucy snorted. “I’m not walking through mud. Anyway, you’re just a girl, you shouldn’t be doing anything.”

Bella said nothing, but walked out to the lawn, and stopped in between two fair sized mud puddles. Lucy, not to be out done by a girl, followed her. But as he drew even with her, she pushed him directly into the mud puddle on her right without any warning. He started to cry. “Just a girl that beat you, Lucy!” she yelled.

His crying and her yelling drew the adults outside. His parents declared that their precious son would never be married to such a little monster, and that Bella needed more training in how to be a proper lady if she ever were to catch a husband. Bella’s mother was all but groveling in apology. Her father eyed her, his look promising that he would know why she had pushed the boy down.

Once the Malfoys had left, her mother and father dragged her into her room. Her mother proceeded to berate her for her rudeness and tried to impress upon her the grievous social affect this would have. But at five, it was a bit beyond Bella. All she knew was that she had been insulted and that was not to be allowed.

Her father quietly broke into her mother’s tirade. “Bella, what happened outside?” His voice was not accusing, merely interested. Bella related the story and her father sat back and nodded. “Stop it, Calliope. She stood up to that snot of a boy, so I say good for her.” He paused to look at her mother. Bella was transfixed by this rare occurrence. “We have daughters, but that does not mean I expect any less of them. I would have them as strong as sons. No, stronger. And Bella needs to be the strongest of them all. She is the oldest and will be my heir.” Command rode her father’s voice.

“But, Rigel, she needs to know how to be a proper lady,” her mother pleaded.

“No, give her manners lessons, if you must, but she will learn everything a son should know and more. I would see her stand tall and proud. Take Narcissa and Andromeda to be proper ladies. Bella is mine to raise.” Her father stood. He stared down her mother until she bowed her head, and in that moment Bella lost all respect for her mother. Her allegiance was now given to her father.

The next day was the beginning of the manners lessons.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Mira nodded, and made sympathetic noises at the right places as Bella related her story. It comforted the child to know that an adult besides her father could understand her. “I remember when your father would come down here to talk to us. He was very much like you, know you.” Bella smiled, proud to be compared to her father. Mira was about to speak again when an elderly man stepped into her frame. He whispered to Mira and the woman’s eyes moved to the girl and glittered as if she was amused.

The whispering only served to make Bella feel like she was stupid. She indignantly stamped her foot. “I demand to know what is going on.”

The old man turned to face Bella, livid. “Now see here, young lady. You will not speak to me so. I am–!”

Whatever he was Bella never found out because Mira cut him off. “You are an old goat who should go back to molesting the nymphs in the pastoral painting on the third floor.” The old man left without further complaint. Mira turned back to Bella. “Your mother is looking for you. I think you should go back to the nursery for now. Tonight, talk to your father about seeing me tomorrow.”

Bella saw the wisdom of not getting caught, so she went back to the baby room. That night she talked to her father about Mira. He agreed. Mother pursed her lips, but said nothing.

For the rest of the summer, Bella sat in a recently cleaned gallery and listened to Mira weave tales of times long ago when she was alive and powerful and respected. How muggles served them and knew their proper place. Wizards and witches did not have to hide behind any Ministry and the Great Families ruled the world. Oh, it was glorious, Bella thought, to be so powerful. To command so well. It was a dream of an ancient time that could never be again. The lines were watered down, mudbloods and half-bloods were everywhere, forcing a society older than any other to change all on the filth’s own terms. It sickened her.

The seasons turned, as they are wont to do and Bella began her home lessons in figures and writing nicely. And reading. That was her favorite. Every free hour she had would be spent with Mira, relating all she had learned from her books, with the woman commenting on what the girl had discovered. Her father began to teach her in simple terms about the running of an estate and various business ventures that the Black family engaged in at the moment. As summer returned, Bella felt the irresistible urge to venture outdoors. Mira noticed the girl’s restless energy warring with her desire to stay with Mira and learn more. It was not long before Bella was given a small picture frame with a cliff face setting. Her father had given the hand sized object to her one day, explaining it was for her and Mira so the woman could accompany Bella outside. Bella had hugged her father for the first time then.

Occasionally, when there was company Bella’s mother banned her from keeping the small trinket with her then. Lucy had come over again, this time he did not insult her and she showed him the portrait gallery. He seemed duly impressed by her ancestors. By the end of the summer, they had become grudging friends. She even remembered that his name was Lucius, not Lucy.

Through it all, Mira instilled all the pureblood ideals and prejudices in the young girl.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

For six years, Bella’s closest friend was Mira. Her sisters were bothersome at best, her cousins annoying, and Lucius wasn’t around enough to be entertaining. But once she had received her Hogwarts letter there was a tension between the two of them. Mira found that she vaguely resented the girl for her ability to move about freely and experience the world while she was trapped here in this parody of life. What really rankled was that Bella had decided to leave the small painting that Mira could travel in at home. The girl said she needed to stand on her own. Well, where would that girl be without her? Still some brash child that could not think further than a few hours. Now, now she was wise and leaned beyond her years, but still wonderfully spunky and forthright.

The girl would go far and do well. Mira hated her for a brief moment. But then the eleven year old came around the corner, smiling. It would be a long year for Mira, but not unbearable. The girl had promised to write.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Bella had graduated from Hogwarts. Downstairs from the portrait gallery, a party was going to honor the graduate. Mira waited for it to quiet down and Bella to come to her. Over the years they had been as close as ever, despite the physical separation. Mira did take small satisfaction that Bella trusted the painting of a long dead woman over her own mother. Soon the young woman came down the long hallway. Every time she did, Mira noted the changes in her. She held herself taller, prouder. Walked with a more assured stride. And the smile on her face was radiant. Mira felt a small stirring of maternal pride. She had helped to raise this young woman, and could not be more proud of her.

Bella was elated. “Mira,” she said. “Oh, it is good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Bella.” Mira smiled.

“I suppose Father told you of my assignment?”

Mira shook her head.

“Well, you know how he likes to stay home and leave travel to others, and how I wish to travel on my own.” If it was possible, Bella grinned even wider. “I assume you know where this is going.”

“That is wonderful, Bella.” There was a note of falsehood in Mira’s voice. Bella would notice it.

“It is, isn’t it? But I have decided that I would like you to accompany me while I travel. You often have sound advice and it would be helpful to have your opinion on some things. And I know you would not coddle me.”

It was a week later when Bella departed to Moscow, Mira’s miniature painting carefully wrapped and stowed in Bella’s travel bag.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Bella was more than a little nervous to reveal to Mira her allegiance to Lord Voldermort. It was not his ideals, but his methods Mira might disapprove of. Mira’s disapproval was one of the things she feared the most, next to her father’s, and now her Lord’s. When she revealed to the other woman to whom she had pledged, a fierce light came to Mira’s eyes.

“That is how it should be done, my dear. Not by grabs for scraps of power but taking it for yourself.” Mira’s tone and far away look told Bella that the woman had done just that in her own time. She was an Amazon. Like Bella would be. Women warriors. Bella knew the world would bow at her feet. And she had Mira to thank.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

They were going to find her soon. Then she would be thrown into Azkaban. Rodolphus and Rabastan were in their room, sleeping. Most women would be spending their last few nights of freedom with their husbands, but right now she did not want sex. She wanted to say goodbye to a friend. “Mira,” she whispered.

“Is it true? Do they hunt you for doing right?” Mira’s voice was strained with disbelief.

“How did you know?”

“Cissa.” Mira paused. “In my day you and your friends would have been exulted.” The portrait had gone wistful.

Bella shook her head. “We are not in your day, Mira. But do not worry, I will return. The faithful will be rewarded.”

They lapsed into silence. Bella gripped the guilt frame tightly for a moment before turning back down the hallway. She would give the miniature picture to Cissa. They would comfort each other in this. Bella slipped into bed with her husband, his brother on the other side of them. Soon she was asleep. The next night, her bed was a stone pallet.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Upon her release by her Lord, Bella renewed her bonds with the Death Eaters, both faithful and false. Her husband had fared well. Her brother-in-law had not. It caused them both grief. Lucius had pressed a small thing into her hands. It was Mira’s travel picture. In her first spare moment she had sat down and called to Mira. When the woman stepped into frame, relief flooded her face. “Bella,” the woman implored.

“I have returned, Mira. We all have.” A fanatic light leapt in Bella’s eyes. “We will end what we began.”

Mira nodded, sure that nothing would stop her descendent. “Good.”

Together they grinned.

I am an idiot

Fri, 13 Aug 2004 04:50:13 GMT

But in a fun way. I was talking to Fey and mentioned the temptation I've been feeling to pick up Lily over at ADV and Dolph at IB. I don't know why I did it, but I did. And now I have two new characters to my name. Let the icon hunting begin! Although I did scalp a lot of icons from the old Lily's journal. What can I say? I'm a lazy, lazy bastard.

open: hours are flexible, but we require a shirt

Wed, 11 Aug 2004 19:15:07 GMT

So... I'm here. The urge to open this new account started when I was thinking about my characters and went, "Dude, there are three people at most on my personal journal's Flist that would care to read that." So, this is just for me and the people who like reading dorky essays about characters I play and interact with. And the crappy fic I've suddenly got the urge to write. I'm a bit out of it right now, but I expect that I'll eventually put up my ramblings and fic. But for now, this is the first post party. *gets out streamers and noise makers*