The power of words || Severus x Bellatrix
Severus had never liked house elves much, slightly repulsed by their watery eyes and grovelling ways, so he hardly looked at this one as it scurried through the halls. Striding after it, Severus couldn’t help a pang of envy at the rich surroundings. The whole of his house could probably have fitted into about a fifth of theirs. Granted, his hovel of a home had been greatly improved by the absence of his parents. He embraced the emptiness, enjoyed no longer being woken in the night by their incessant rows. Though he must admit, he felt a bit resentful towards his mother. When Tobias was finally arrested for drunken assault, he thought it might rekindle her passion for using magic. But she only stayed to see her son turn 17, and then the following summer, he came back to an empty house with dusty rooms. He stayed, mostly because he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Besides, his Eileen’s potions equipment was still there, begging to be used. He never thought about his parents, and when he did, it only fuelled his resentment towards muggles and the International Statute of Secrecy.
Though there was something in knowing neither of your parents cared any more.
Bellatrix’s stare as he came into view made him want to shift his feet and duck his eyes, though he couldn’t think why. He let out a breath he’d been unconsciously holding when the moment was over, and she rose to greet him with all her usual… What to call it? Graciousness? Decorum? Ceremony? Severus could never quite put his finger on what it was in her manner. It felt a little like being in a room with a dementor in a steel cage covered in a black cloth – you didn’t know what was wrong until suddenly the cover is snatched away and you’re confronted with what’s been eating at you this whole time. Even when it was still contained by the sturdy bars, it could reach out through the empty spaces and continue to haunt you until eventually it succeeded in gleefully snatching from you its coveted prize. And Severus felt he was starting to get a sense – only a sense – of what was underneath Bellatrix’s perfectly smooth, unruffled exterior.
“Bellatrix, you grow younger by the day.” he returned with a small bow. “I’m glad to hear our correspondence brought you joy, and many apologies for my slackness.”
He gestured towards where she had been seated. “Please, don’t trouble yourself, I mustn’t stay for long.”
That was only partially the truth, for he did have some time to spare. The problem, as he was now too painfully aware, was how puerile he seemed with his childish hex. He had forgotten in his hastiness to dig his way out of solitude just how formidable the older death eater was, how seriously she took her devotion. He was almost unaware of his mind starting to employ occlumency until he felt the muscles at the back of his neck tighten slightly, as they did whenever he shielded his mind against a legimens.
His heart thumping slightly faster, he grasped around for a topic of conversation to excuse his unexplained arrival. The garden was not helping – his eyes couldn’t help but wander around, automatically noting which plants could be used in which potions. Or maybe he just wanted to advert his eyes from Bellatrix’s presence beside him. Goosebumps stared to creep up his arms, and he concealed a shiver. Severus had to remind himself that he had done nothing to cause such apprehension before he dared meet her glance again.
“I was wondering if Rodolphus is at home?” he finally asked. It was a start. It didn’t matter if he was home or not – he had hopefully just bought himself a few more minutes to think.
Considering his lowly birth, Severus Snape almost perfectly pantomimed the aristocracy he so often found himself mixing with these days. Bellatrix felt a swell of pride rise in her chest. He was coming along nicely, this one. A rare plant indeed, but one if nurtured correctly, that could produce untold poison. Potential was something Voldemort coveted and it was that he had seen in Severus Snape, much in the same way he had with the eldest Black.
“Honestly, darling, you are too kind.” She cooed, all of the grace and manners she had been raised with. It pleased her that the boy squirmed so under her gaze. It meant that he recognized his place in the world as woefully far beneath hers. All the same, she couldn’t quite grasp what it was, but there was something about the vulnerability of the boy that appealed to her. A darkness within him that could grow into something truly monstrous if nurtured properly. Voldemort had made it clear to her that Snape was to be kept close, treated as royalty, as the Half-Blood Prince he so longed to be. Of course, the Death Eaters knew very little of this alter ego, but their leader saw in him the desire for greatness.
It was this same desire that could be exploited for their own wicked ends.
Traditions, traditions, traditions.
Traditions, respect and society had the raven haired boy asking for her husband, making her skin crawl with his treatment of her, as if she was nothing more than a glass bird that might shatter completely if held too tightly. One of the reasons Bellatrix had come to love, to follow, to surrender to their Dark Lord was because he saw past her gender. Voldemort had recognized the warrior beneath from the first evening she met him and it was that simple act that had permanently placed him upon a pedestal in her mind.
The mention of Rodolphus had her hands curling at her sides, fighting terribly to hold back the growl that threatened to trickle from her lips.
“No. He is tending to matters on our grounds. Honestly, Severus. You wound me. Are you really so keen to be rid of me, after such a short visit?”
Upper lip curling slightly, she moved from his side, taking her seat back amongst the roots of the tree, her attention turning to the book she had been reading upon his arrival.
“If it is him you wish to see, send him an owl. I’m sure he will be content to disclose his location and you can go and chatter with him.”
It was stupid, that she felt hurt over this. The sheer nonsensical pang of jealousy hit her square in the guts, causing the bile to rise in the back of her throat. Pathetic, really, how much rejection bothered her. Besides, she had been feeling so lonely as of late, the distraction Severus had offered upon his arrival gave a glimmer of hope…only to be snatched away. Now there would be nothing to do with her afternoon other than to brood over the emptiness in her womb, the increasing likelihood that she was infertile.
Right now, she longed for something else to occupy her time. A mission, an errand, even a duel. Anything that might keep her busy enough that she didn’t pick herself apart from the insides out. But what Voldemort wanted, more than anything, was for his best and most loyal lieutenant to bare a child. To continue the Pureblood line.
“It has been a pleasure, as always, visiting with you.” She murmured, words softer than they had been just moments before, eyes firmly locked on the page of her book. “I’m sure Rodolphus will be glad of the distraction. He’s been working longer and longer hours as of late and I know he always enjoys the conversations you share.”
Pursing her lips, she turned a page, eyes staring sightlessly at the words.
"Have a good afternoon, Severus."
