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Regulus is the first to die.
Bellatrix doesn’t know how or why it happens. One day she’s searching his “secret” places hidden all over Wizarding Britain, and the next day the year of his death appears on the family tapestry — the current one.
That’s a real tragedy: the last Black heir, beloved by everyone in this family of regalia, is dead. And not a soul knows where his body is. An empty coffin is lowering into the ground — a funeral has never been such a test of stamina.
Bellatrix predictable rages. She’s almost goes mad. She burns down the forest edge and screams at the top of her lungs. She drinks a year’s worth of fire whiskey and can’t get out the bed the next day. She feels the burning of her bones, her muscles and her mind.
Her little cousin is dead — and she doesn’t even know why. And she wasn’t able to save him. And she promised she’ll be next to him. And —
— and he’s dead, and she doesn’t know, and she wasn’t able, and she promised, and —
And she doesn’t cry.
She hasn’t been able to cry since the eternity.
Instead, Bellatrix sets out to find a culprit.
She questions his friends like an auror questions suspects. She yells at her family members to get them emotional and to get the truth out. She drives Sirius into a dark alley where they scream and curse each other out loud.
There’s a moment when they lower their wands and start laughing with a “Black mad laugh”, full of such alike hopelessness that the equal blood in their veins runs cold. They get drunk together in a muggle bar. Their grief — it is absolutely the same.
And then dead drunk Bellatrix goes to the Dark Lord and demands that he makes an unbreakable vow that he hasn’t killed and hasn’t ordered to kill her little cousin. She knows that such impudence might cost her life. She doesn't care.
The Dark Lord, swallowing his irritation, agrees. Because he knows the price of her loyalty. He knows her priorities. She surrenders herself completely to his mercy without question, but the other Blacks are untouchable.
In the end, Bellatrix doesn't force him to make a vow. His simple consent is enough. Instead, she falls apart right there in his office, because the last thread has lost all meaning. She cries. For the first time in ages. And the Dark Lord strokes her hair, and she finally wonders what she would do if he didn’t agree.
The answer comes naturally: she would probably have died. It doesn't matter whether it would be from her world collapsing or from his wand. Because the Blacks are untouchable. Even for the Dark Lord. It's practically the only rule in their relationship that Bellatrix never wavered from. She would have forgiven him for her death without a second thought — but not for the death of Regulus.
(And yet, dying, Regulus has no doubt that his cousin Bella would have killed him herself if he'd dared tell her of his plans)
(Regulus is wrong. She would have found a hundred ways to get him out of any shit. As always)
***
Sirius is the second to die.
Because of her.
And this is completely wrong. More scaring than the Dark Lord's fall. More terrifying than fifteen years in Azkaban. Fully worse than her mother's teachings, the forced engagement and any nightmare she's ever endured.
Bellatrix doesn't understand how this happenes. Sincerely and desperately.
They were just… playing, like they had always been doing. Sometimes as children, in Grimmauld Place, and sometimes on the real battlefield. Sirius wasn't supposed to die. The Blacks are untouchable, she'd established that rule long ago. She forbade to hit him by killing curses, no matter how much trouble he causes. No Avadas. No strong cutting curses. Nothing that might lead to his death. He has always resented her for that, but in the Order he established the same rule for Regulus. Hypocrite.
This time, as always, he was supposed to catch Petrificus and lose. Not to die. Not her little Siri, her most obnoxious and beloved cousin, a carbon copy of Bellatrix in everything but gender. Not him. Not by her hand.
Not like this.
No. No!
Impossible!
But his body disappears into the Veil, and again there's nothing left to bury, again the empty coffin is going to sink into the earth. Merlin and Morgana. He died from her spell. And if not from the spell, than from her carelessness. Bellatrix hadn't noticed the cursed the Veil too.
She knows the right reaction. The only one that can keep her from turning to mush right here, in the Department of Mysteries, in front of everyone. She’s laughing. Sirius's deathly smile is imprinting in her memory. Fool. Idiot. How could he…
She’s laughing harder. The Black mad laugh. The same as Sirius had. Her Siri, who as like as Bellatrix was a headache for all of their relatives. Who protected Reggie as best as he could. And she, in turn, protected him. Elders need elders too.
But this time she hadn’t protect him. Moreover, she ultimately became the one to protect from.
How this all resembles a pathetic theatrical tragedy.
She laughs, and the Dark Lord drags her out of the Department of Mysteries, and Bellatrix has never been good at controlling her emotions, but Azkaban has made everything a hundred thousand times worse. So, here she is, in Malfoy Manor. Laughing, then swallowing tears, then scratching her hands until they bleed.
The Dark Lord isn't the same, but Bellatrix is different too. This time he doesn't stroke her hair, and she doesn't seek comfort in his arms. He screams at her, frustrated by this utter failure, and Bellatrix screams back. Not at him, though. At the wall. At the ceiling. At herself.
(However, even though he really wants to, he never aims his wand at her. At least one thing remains constant)
And then, in the dead of night, the Dark Lord finally insists with dry sentence that it's not her fault. But their bodies are broken, their minds are battered, and their souls are torn. Perhaps that's why she doesn't believe him.
After all, her beloved cousin wouldn't believe him either.
In his final moments Sirius must have finally been able to hate her. Just as he always wanted to.
(And yet, dying, Sirius has no doubt that Bells herself would have gotten him out of the Veil if they just had a little more time)
(Sirius isn't wrong. She would do everything to keep him from falling. As always)
***
Andromeda is the fourth to die.
By this time, her sister has been dead for nearly forty years.
The scars on her heart still ache. Some days she hates Bella to the point of helplessness, other ones she misses her to the point of madness. It's complicated. It has always been complicated, since she was seventeen, but it's only gotten worse since. Thinking about Bella is unbearable.
Because her sister destroyed almost everything Andromeda had ever loved, but in two decades she’d never raised a wand against her. She’d never let anyone to.
That must mean something. That must.
(And yet, dying, Andromeda has no doubt that Bella would have broken her own rule if they’d ever met again)
(Andromeda is wrong. She would rather simply ignore her sister's existence. As always)
***
Narcissa is the fifth to die.
She's about a hundred years old, and she still thinks of Bella as family. Not as a separate entity, not as a piece of the past, but as a part of something complete, warm and gorgeous.
Bella is a wall. Unsteady and crumbling but ready to support your weight for as long as you need. Always.
Bella is a protection. Bella is a guarantee.
Even if she could have killed her for lying in the Forbidden Forest.
It’s fine, she believes. It’s okay.
(And yet, dying, Narcissa has no doubt that her sister wouldn't raise a wand against her no matter she’d done or said)
(Narcissa isn't wrong. She would forgive her anything. As always)
***
Bellatrix is the third to die.
She tries not to have any doubts.
She doesn't know if she's wrong or not.