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Dear Reader, if it feels like a trap, you’re already in one
Rita recalls the way the last few conversations with Bellatrix had felt off. She held her at an arm’s distance and the smile she normally reserved specially for Rita seemed forced. Obviously, the weight of the mark now sitting on Bellatrix had weighed on them both, but the distance was something Rita hadn’t known since they were first years.
Dear Reader, get out your map, pick somewhere and just run.
Bellatrix had always been angry; Rita had known this even when they were children. At school Bellatrix had often fixated on some small thing someone had done wrong to her and ran with it. It was all Bellatrix could see, all she could feel, and as much as Rita loved Bellatrix, she couldn’t stand it. At school the solution had been to find a quiet place away from Bellatrix. Now that the only place Rita had to escape to be a guest room at Lestrange manor, Rita found things a bit more complicated.
Dear Reader, burn all the files, desert all your past lives.
Rita stared down at the pile of papers she had obtained from other journalists at the prophet. Incriminating evidence and wild accusations alike needed to go. Not just ones about Bellatrix either. Those Rita would have happily disposed of, but Bellatrix’s steely grey eyes had looked into hers as she pleaded with her to remove anything that might implicate any other death eaters either. Rita had felt her heart clench at the way Bellatrix had spoken about the death eater’s, about how important they were to her. Bellatrix had talked about Rita like that once. So of course, she agreed. Now here she stood incendio raging on the document's reporters had no doubt spent months accumulating.
And if you don’t recognize yourself, that means you did it right.
“You should hurt them.” Bellatrix muttered, in that cold and unfeeling voice that had slowly been sneaking its way into their relationship. Even here, lying in bed with Rita wrapping her fingers up in Bellatrix’s wild hair, the cold and unfeeling rage was present. “He stole my story Trix.” Rita mumbled, tilting the other woman’s chin up for a kiss. “It’s not like he killed my family or something.” Bellatrix frowned and pulled Rita’s hand out of her hand. “Nobody should hurt you. If something befalls them after such an injustice as hurting you, they deserve whatever comes to them.” Rita ignored the cold tendrils of fear that crept around her heart for just a moment at Bellatrix’s words.
Never take advice from someone who’s falling apart.
Dear Reader, bend when you can, snap when you have to.
“ Enough Trix!” Rita shouted. “I’m so fucking sick of hearing about them. My lord says this, Rabastan says that. Even fucking Lucius Malfoy has more of a sway on your opinions these days than I do. And forget opinions, what about time? You gave me a room here so we could see each other, and I never do anymore? Do you even want me anymore?” Bellatrix’s lip had quivered for just a moment before she pulled Rita towards her, pressing gentle kisses against the side of her face as Rita turned her face away. “Course I want you. Things are just hard right now. I only talk about their opinions so much because I know they're gonna make a world that’s easier for us. Don’t you want that?”
Dear Reader, you don’t have to answer just cause they asked you.
“I don’t want that if it involves them Trix. I don’t know if I can handle that for even a few more weeks let alon e the rest of our lives.” Bellatrix’s warm lips had parted slightly and pulled away from Rita’s cheeks. All she could do was sigh as the cold grey eyes flared at her. “I see.”
Dear Reader, the greatest of luxuries is your secrets.
Bellatrix returned from another mission and Rita quickly sneaked into her bedroom and removed the illusion from the parchment sitting on the desk. It was filled with the dates and times of Bellatrix’s comings and goings for the last month. She jotted down the time and placed the charm back on.
Dear Reader, when you aim at the devil make sure you don’t miss.
They were in bed again, Rita laying sleepily on the chest of her now withdrawn lover. “You’ve been watching me.” Bellatrix said, caution evident in her voice. “How could I watch you when you’re never here.” Rita muttered, voice cold as the eyes she stared up into.
Never take advice from someone who’s falling apart.
“ I think you should find somewhere else to live.” Bellatrix said, refusing to look at Rita as she hovered the last of Rita’s things to the front door of the Lestrange manor. “It won't be safe for you much longer here.” Rita tilted her head up defiantly. “Is that the only reason?” Bellatrix met her eyes then; they were glossy, and tears threatened to brim over. “It’s the only one that matters.”
So, I wander through these nights, I prefer hiding in plain sight.
Rita flitted around the Lestrange manor watching Bellatrix walk through the gates, head held high and proud as she walked towards the dark lord. Her smile had changed, Rita noticed, or maybe she hadn't realized just how many feelings Bellatrix had kept just for Rita. Of course she had gone unnoticed though, Bellatrix’s eyes now fixed only on her precious dark lord.
My fourth drink in my hand these desperate prayers of a cursed man.
Rita sat in the dim light of the leaky cauldron, fire whisky in her hand and several empty shot glasses around her as she tried to drown out the pleas of the man Bellatrix had mercilessly destroyed earlier today. Of course, nobody had known Rita was there and for once in her life Rita cursed her Animagus form as she recalled once again the way the man had screamed, and Bellatrix had laughed as the light faded from his eyes.
Spilling out to you for free, but darling darling please.
Rita stared down at the finished draft of the prophet. She only had to submit, and the entire world would know what Bellatrix had done. All of it. From the day in sixth year, she had marred the pure porcelain skin of her forearm to her most recent foray into the dark arts that had stolen her from her lover. Now if only she had proof.
“You wouldn’t take my word for it if you knew who was talking.” she whispered, giggling into Evelyn Zabini’s ear. “Oh really?” The dark-skinned witch purred back. “Perhaps now that I’m back in England you can give me the chance to become re-acquainted. I notice there’s no dark-haired witch glued to your side anymore.” Rita winced at the mention of Bellatrix, however indirect. “She's gone. Left a long time ago maybe.” Rita whispered.
To a house not a home, all alone cause nobody’s there.
Rita had ended up turning Zabini down, much as she hated herself for it. She had been so close. The taller witch had pressed her up against the front door of Rita’s flat and whispered into her ear, but Rita had frozen up and placed her hands on the shoulders of the other woman and whispered sadly.
“You aren’t her.”
Zabini had given her a small, sad smile. “I had suspected as much.”
Where I pace in my pen and my friends found friends who care.
Rita sat at home scribbling away at her desk. At the start of the war, she had enjoyed going into the office, chatting and gossiping away. But over time people had been cautious. As people disappeared left right and center suspicions grew higher, and Rita had been too close in the past too far too many suspicious people. So, she sat alone, and once again contemplated ruining Bellatrix Lestrange’s life.
No one sees when you lose when you're playing solitaire.
The war was at its height now. Rita could feel it just as much as she could feel her career slipping through her fingers. The height of a war against the darkest wizard of all time and Rita was writing the gossip columns. She needed something bigger and better, and she knew where to get it.
She stood at the doors of the Lestrange estate knowing that she didn’t need to knock. Bellatrix had always been the teensiest bit paranoid and now that there was a war Rita was sure just the thought of appearing near the manor would set off about twelve hundred wards. The door flung open, and Rita found herself staring into a familiar pair of grey eyes. Or maybe once familiar. They were wide and crazed now, perhaps made more so by the surprise of Rita’s presence. Rita stepped into the manor and quirked an eyebrow at the dark-haired witch, who to Rita’s delight pounced.
Later they lay in Bellatrix’s bed, the one Rita assumed with an all too familiar pang of jealousy she probably shared with Rodolphus.
“What have you done in the last year without me?” Rita teased, hoping and praying to Circe that Bellatrix would fall for her bait.
Bellatrix delivered. “Serving him.” she muttered, reverently staring down at the mark on her arm.
“And yet as much as I used to despise that I always seem to find my way back to you.” Rita whispered, pressing her lips gently against the other woman’s and regretting everything she was about to do.
“ You should find another guiding line.” Bellatrix whispered against Rita’s lips.
“ But you shine so bright.” Rita offered back.
The next day she sat in her own flat again reading her first ever front-page article. The prophet read out a tell all of Bellatrix’s death eater activities along with a picture of the mark on her arm which had been shown only thanks to Rita’s memories. It read in bold “From the mouth of the most noble and ancient houses firstborn when asked what she had done: “” Serving him””
Rita sighed as she folded the paper up and placed it in a frame. She hung it above her desk and stared fondly at the memory of the curly haired witch who had stolen her heart so many years ago. What had she said last summer? If something befalls them after such an injustice as hurting you, they deserve whatever comes to them. Bellatrix had been right, Rita thought smiling at the words she had used to cause the pain Bellatrix so deserved.
You should find another.