Title: When They Were Younger
Rating: PG (Um. Sad?)
Genre: Tragedy
Characters: Bellatrix Black/Lucius Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black, Bellatrix Black/Rodolphus Lestrange
Summary: Um. A bit whimsical and depressing, I admit. About how Bella and Luci used to live. When they were younger. One shot.
Additional Copyrights: None

When they were younger, they danced.

Not literally. More… figuratively. They glided through life on light feet, hair sweeping in their own momentum, destined for greatness, for glory; that was the promise of Slytherin.

When they were younger, they had been best friends.

He, the angel; she, the devil. They hooked arms, they leant on each other; black and blonde hair mingled, so many glistening strands weaving together so that they were connected, almost.

They danced in tune with each other, without care; confident in their steps, in their movements, in their glamour. For they were Glamourous; they razzled and dazzled on the world stage and made common people wilt with shame.

One day, in their late teens, he said to her:

"Bellatrix, marry me."

And she had laughed.

"I can't."

So they didn't.

But they kept dancing.

A few more years passed; she was as wild and beautiful as ever, and her glittering eyes bore not the signs of despair deep within her mind, in her heart. And he danced in circles around her, sometimes ahead, sometimes behind; he charmed his way through dozens of girls, but none could replace his Bellatrix.

One day, she said:

"Lucius, I want you to marry my sister."

"Why?"

"Because I want her with someone nice."

He proposed to her sister when he was 24; when he was 25, they were married in autumn, under the weeping trees and harvest moon.

Three seasons later him and her, Lucius and Bellatrix, they were back to dancing; but they didn't dance so much now, weighed down with responsibility, with regret.

Maybe they thought they hadn't danced enough.

"When we were younger," he said, "the stars shone brighter."

"Aye, when we were younger," said she, "you smiled a lot more."

They went out at night in the countryside as often as possible, and they twirled under the moonlight, hair flying about their faces.

"I'm going to get married too," she called to him, though he was right in front of her.

"Who?" he asked, amused.

"Rodolphus. Roddy. That guy." She reached towards the stars with fingers decked with rings. "You can be the flower girl."

He caught her around the waist and spun her around, and they laughed.

But now they are older.

Now she is dead inside. Now he has a son, and a crossing of morals.

Now they never dance, not ever; they just think about it, and they sigh, and then they sit in the dark and think of the sparkle and razzle and dazzle and the stage lights shining in their eyes.

They do not speak of this.

They are not so Glamourous, not any more. Now they are old, and they are tired.

When they were younger, Bellatrix and Lucius had been alive.