Regulus had never heard someone speak of him like that - except maybe Micah, but his belief was that Regulus was good, and smart, and worth someone. Bellatrix believed he was strong and promising: there was a kind of strength that underlied her words that fed into what Regulus needed, had always needed: someone to tell him he could make it. His pain - all of it, from when he was a boy to that very moment - had always been a burden, both to himself and everyone around him, but if he could use it like Bellatrix said - if he could make it all mean something… His eyes slid closed as she told him to, and he tried to imagine a box. It was heavy iron, not wood - wood was too breakable. Into it he tried to push everything: the anger at Sirius and the fear of his mother; he tried to shove it all down into the darkness, waiting like a serpent in a bush for the right moment to strike. Regulus had never thought he was the best Slytherin, but this – this he could do; he could control his emotions best if they were locked away. There was a brief moment of peace, where he felt the wind stir his hair: everything was contained – and then Bellatrix opened the lid.
It coursed through him as though it were venom, and he opened his eyes as he cast the spell. “Diffindo!” he yelled, and the tree that Bellatrix had pointed him toward exploded, a sharp crack! in its trunk that cause it to stand still for just a moment before toppling over. But it wasn’t enough – the anger, Sirius, his mother - it wasn’t enough, and his wand turned on the spiders that had been running along the ravine. “Arania Exumai,” he said, watching as white jets blasted the spider he’d aimed toward. It wasn’t enough. “Incendio!“ Regulus screamed, advancing toward where the spiders were, throwing fire and only stopping when several caught alight. They screamed in their own way, and Regulus watched as they danced, legs held to the sky as they burned alive. When he lowered his arm, it was heavy, and he blinked several times to find that his cheeks were wet. Regulus wiped them with the back of his hand and turned to Bellatrix. He felt like everything was locked up, and now he felt hollow. “That–” His hand shook as he contemplated his wand. “That felt good – to do something. To not be weak,” he told her, looking up again. “Thank you.”
Watching Regulus lash out, Bellatrix knew, intellectually, that this was for the best, that if he stayed soft and naive to the world, it would rip him apart, but she couldn’t help the guilt that welled up in her at the sight of him. His pain was raw and malleable, and she was guiding him down her chosen path of darkness instead of helping him deal with it and move past it. She was turning him into her, broken, bitter soul, too tattered to be of any good. And for that, she felt guilt. Nobody should be like her, if they could help it; but it was the only way she knew how to give him strength. “You’re not weak,” she repeated, her voice earnest. “That was-- good, Reg. Really good.” She had a whole slew of other things planned for the night, wanting to push Regulus to the point of breaking in order to build him up again, but she herself couldn’t continue with this. The more she pushed him to destruction, the more she destroyed herself. “We can go back to the castle now. You’ve had enough for tonight.” A part of her -- the stupid, humane, empathetic part of her -- wanted to apologize, but she bit it back. She was doing him a favor. She wouldn’t apologize for who she was.
As they walked back to the castle, making their way through the thick forest, she said, her voice quiet but still audible over the crunch of their footsteps and the whistling of the wind, “When I was thirteen, we went to the south of France for most of the summer. We stayed in this huge manor house, but there was a small town just down the road, and I liked to spend most of my time there because frankly, being around my parents for more than five minutes is absolutely exhausting. A few weeks in,” she sucked in a sharp breath, forcing herself to press onwards -- she hadn’t told anyone this story, not even Evan, but it felt important to tell Regulus right now, so she did it, “I met this girl. She was my age, and she was a muggle. Her father manned the docs, so she was always just. Around, I guess? And so was I, and because I was new to the area, she sort of took it upon herself to show me the area. We called them our little adventures.” She smiled in spite of herself, looking back at the memories with a bitter sort of fondness. “I knew that I wasn’t supposed to like. Be talking to her or associating with her, but it felt really nice, and I’ve never been good at doing what I’m told. One day, I wanted to kiss her, so I did, and then-- that was just that. I started sneaking off more to see her, and it was honestly. It was wonderful.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat, eyes fixed on the ground, before saying, “And then my father found out.”
“He was furious, of course, but he didn’t-- he didn’t tell me he’d figured out where I went nearly every night. He just sort of. Waited. And then, in our last week there, he. He told me that we were going to have a lesson, and I was confused, but I didn’t question it because when Cygnus Black says that you’re doing something, you better fucking do it, y’know? So, I went with him back to the house, and she was-- there.” There was a reason Bella didn’t talk about the things that had made her into who she was today. There was a reason she kept all of this locked behind a plethora of doors and traps. If she didn’t, it would eat her alive. She could inflict pain so easily and so thoughtlessly because she’d felt more than her fair share of it in her brief lifetime. “It was the first time I’d ever seen the Cruciatus Curse used on another human being, and he didn’t stop. She was begging him to, but he didn’t. It felt like it was happening for days, and then finally, it was over, and he said to me, ‘If you don’t hate me right now, then she’s suffered for nothing. Remember this, Bellatrix. Remember how this feels. I’ve never given you a better gift than this pain. And if you let it go to waste, then you’re just as foolish as her.’” She looked up at Regulus with cold, remote eyes, trying to calm the erratic racing of her heart. “It was the first time I ever thought of pain as a gift. And it made-- a lot of this, a lot of what I have to do, easier to deal with, honestly. If you turn your weaknesses into weapons, nothing will ever hurt you again.” She didn’t wholly believe in that, but she needed him to believe that she did. For his sake more than her own.