Ginny heard her name first when she was nine. Her dad mentioned someone named Bellatrix, and Ginny thought it was the prettiest name in the world. And then her mother muttered something about how she always had wanted men who she couldn’t have. And Ginny thought that was strange, so she remembered it.
She heard her name the second time when Bill and Charlie were talking in the kitchen at Christmas and they didn’t know she was listening. Bill said that Bellatrix Lestrange was a crazy psychopath, she had tortured people to insanity, and that she was in love with You-Know-Who. That didn’t make sense to Ginny. How could someone with such a wonderful name love someone so horrible? She loved the man so scary that no one would talk about him? So she remembered that too. She was ten.
When she was eleven, she found out that Tom was You-Know-Who. The boy who told her that they would be together, reached out through the pages and touched her hair, her hand. Her only friend. She wasn’t good enough for anyone else. She didn’t think about Bellatrix then, because it felt like her rib cage was being ripped out and her heart was being shredded in front of her.
When she was twelve, she thought of Bellatrix. When she came back to school and she couldn’t figure out why she was crying every night until her throat was hoarse, she realized that she had loved Tom. That she still did, and it still felt like her rib cage was being ripped out when she thought about the fact that he wasn’t there. And Tom was You-Know-Who. And she understood Bellatrix Lestrange, and how she could love him. She knew what it was like if Tom asked you to do something. No matter how crazy it was – she did it.
When she was fourteen, she met Bellatrix Lestrange. She ran away.
When she was fifteen, she turned a corner in Hogwarts, and ran into Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix pushed her against the wall, and put her hand on Ginny’s shoulder, pinning her there. She put her wand to Ginny’s throat. Ginny panicked. Felix Felicies be damned, sometimes you just plain panic. The heart-pounding, gut-twisting, knees-quaking kind of panic. She felt like she was in one of those dreams where you can’t run and you can’t see, but you know something’s chasing you.
“I loved him too.” She told her about the diary, how she wrote every day, how Tom had told her that she was worthless, and she would be beautiful and perfect if she was with him. She told Bellatrix how she still thought about him every day, how she sometimes thought she could hear him in her thoughts, telling her how useless she was, this was. She told her she had killed chickens, written messages in blood, and how she laid in the chamber, knowing that she would die so he would live. And how she missed him.
Bellatrix had frozen, her wand at Ginny’s throat. “He made me drink from the cup,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Every day. He whispers in my head still. I know him as he was and I know him as he is.”
“And it kills you,” Ginny said.
Bellatrix let go and backed up, the air between them packed with silence. “It kills you too.” She lifted her wand.
Bellatrix/Ginny He Killed Us
Ginny heard her name first when she was nine. Her dad mentioned someone named Bellatrix, and Ginny thought it was the prettiest name in the world. And then her mother muttered something about how she always had wanted men who she couldn’t have. And Ginny thought that was strange, so she remembered it.
She heard her name the second time when Bill and Charlie were talking in the kitchen at Christmas and they didn’t know she was listening. Bill said that Bellatrix Lestrange was a crazy psychopath, she had tortured people to insanity, and that she was in love with You-Know-Who. That didn’t make sense to Ginny. How could someone with such a wonderful name love someone so horrible? She loved the man so scary that no one would talk about him? So she remembered that too. She was ten.
When she was eleven, she found out that Tom was You-Know-Who. The boy who told her that they would be together, reached out through the pages and touched her hair, her hand. Her only friend. She wasn’t good enough for anyone else. She didn’t think about Bellatrix then, because it felt like her rib cage was being ripped out and her heart was being shredded in front of her.
When she was twelve, she thought of Bellatrix. When she came back to school and she couldn’t figure out why she was crying every night until her throat was hoarse, she realized that she had loved Tom. That she still did, and it still felt like her rib cage was being ripped out when she thought about the fact that he wasn’t there. And Tom was You-Know-Who. And she understood Bellatrix Lestrange, and how she could love him. She knew what it was like if Tom asked you to do something. No matter how crazy it was – she did it.
When she was fourteen, she met Bellatrix Lestrange. She ran away.
When she was fifteen, she turned a corner in Hogwarts, and ran into Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix pushed her against the wall, and put her hand on Ginny’s shoulder, pinning her there. She put her wand to Ginny’s throat. Ginny panicked. Felix Felicies be damned, sometimes you just plain panic. The heart-pounding, gut-twisting, knees-quaking kind of panic. She felt like she was in one of those dreams where you can’t run and you can’t see, but you know something’s chasing you.
“I loved him too.” She told her about the diary, how she wrote every day, how Tom had told her that she was worthless, and she would be beautiful and perfect if she was with him. She told Bellatrix how she still thought about him every day, how she sometimes thought she could hear him in her thoughts, telling her how useless she was, this was. She told her she had killed chickens, written messages in blood, and how she laid in the chamber, knowing that she would die so he would live. And how she missed him.
Bellatrix had frozen, her wand at Ginny’s throat. “He made me drink from the cup,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Every day. He whispers in my head still. I know him as he was and I know him as he is.”
“And it kills you,” Ginny said.
Bellatrix let go and backed up, the air between them packed with silence. “It kills you too.” She lifted her wand.