After All This Time

Because my friends are huge Bellarke shippers, and I love my friends <3

somewhere in season 5...

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Chest heaving with labored breathing, Clarke's blue eyes scanned the scene around her. There were bodies everywhere. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. This wasn't what she'd wanted. This wasn't what any of them had wanted.

The blood drying on her face was itchy, pulling at the skin in that perfectly irritating way. When she lifted her hand to wipe it away, it was still sticky to the touch. Her stomach churned at the feeling, a soft groan slipping from her lips as she let her gaze drop to the ground. Blood from the bodies around her was pooling at her feet. Her head snapped up as her eyes looked around, her expression frantic. "Madi," she shouted, worried her companion had been lost in all of this."Madi!" This time the name tore from her lips more desperately. Clarke began to move, tripping on lifeless limbs as she hurried to move away from the slaughter.

A familiar sting prickled behind her eyes, and she willed herself not to cry. Not now. She had to be strong, just like always. Steeling herself against her own selfish emotions, she clenched her jaw and kept moving, wading through the bodies. At the edge of the battlefield, her foot caught, tangled in the limbs of one of the fallen. Clarke was afraid to look down. Just as she began to turn her head, someone grabbed her hand.

"Don't." The voice was all too familiar. That rough, confident sound had filled her dreams, her nightmares, for 2,199 days before she'd heard it again. She had thought she'd been dreaming, but it was really him; it was really Bellamy.

Clarke looked up at him as he helped her out of the sea of bodies. For what it was worth, she was glad he was here - she didn't want to do this alone. His face was covered in blood, as she imagined hers was, too. "Have you seen Madi," she asked, not able to keep the worry from creeping into her voice. That same concern was tightening in her chest, gripping at her heart.Until finally...Bellamy nodded, "she's safe." An audible breath of relief poured from Clarke's lips, shaky at best.

"Oh, thank god," she muttered, her whole body finally relaxing. Pulling her eyes back to his face, she looked at him, silence stretching between them. The lump was growing in her throat, and she knew it was only a matter of time before her tears fell whether she wanted them to or not. When Bellamy turned, his eyes meeting hers, she could see the same on his face, the tears behind his eyes he was trying so hard to will away. Heart hammering in her chest, she realized she was still holding his hand, clinging desperately to the warmth that seemed to radiate from him. Blinking, she looked down at their hands, focusing on what was important right then and there.

"Did Octavia-?" As she asked, she looked back at him. Her question was cut off by his response, a shake of the head. Her stomach lurched; she felt sick. Clarke squeezed his hand gently as she pulled him into her, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his blood-matted curls. It took a moment, or maybe two, but soon enough, she could feel his arms wrapping around her waist.

When Bellamy pulled away, Clarke's cheek brushed against his. It was such a soft touch, it was almost enough to make her forget they were standing at the end of the world. Again. Looking at him, Clarke could see that he'd let the tears out. She wiped one away with the pad of her thumb, but she only smeared more blood over his freckles. A small wrinkle formed between her brows as she looked at him, wishing she could make things better. "Bellamy, I-" She didn't know what to say, though, and as she cut herself off, they both leaned in.

It had been ages since she'd kissed anyone like this. This felt right, natural. And yet...

Clarke pulled away, her eyes searching Bellamy's face as she took a small step away from him. A smile tugged the corner of her lips upwards, and she found she couldn't stop it. The smile spread over her face, and she glanced away, feeling suddenly shy about it. When she looked back at him, though, he was smiling, too.

It didn't seem to matter that they were both disgusting - sweaty, covered in blood and dirt and grime - because they had finally found one another. It had taken them over six years, but here they were. The tears started sliding down her cheeks, trailing through the blood and mud. For the first time in a long time, Clarke let herself be selfish, and she hoped Bellamy wouldn't mind: She kissed him again. This time, it was on purpose, this time it was fueled by desire rather than their shared pain. The warmth in her chest, spreading, made her wonder just how long she'd loved him and never realized it.

Character Study - Gina Martin, The 100

**the following contains spoilers for season 3 of The 100**

A smile passed over Gina's lips as she thought about Bellamy. Shaking her head, she tried to free herself of the thoughts; she had more important things to do right now, like find those launch codes. But there was nothing helpful anywhere easily found. Guess today wasn't exactly their lucky day. There had to be a silver lining, though, didn't there? They weren't about to drop a missile on a Grounder city, for one.

"Gina to Raven, come in."

"I got nothing, no launch codes. Guess our luck is still holding."

Keep looking. It should have been easy, shouldn't have been a problem. As she leaned forward over the president's desk, over all the papers she's scattered there, a hand clamped over her mouth.

Fear gushed through her veins in that instant. No, this wasn't how things were supposed to go. The assassin was supposed to be in Polis, not here in Mount Weather. Gina's mind and heart raced. That was when the first stab of pain wrenched through her body. She was being stabbed. Over and over again. She screamed against the hand clamped over her mouth. No one could hear her. She was alone.

The stabbing stopped, so did her screams. Gina could feel the life draining from her body as she dropped to the floor. But she wasn't dead yet. There was a fire in her eyes as she watched the Grounder open the panel on the desk, watched as she lay sprawled on the floor, pain seizing every nerve in her body. Gina coughed and sputtered, blood slipping over her lips.

And yet she did nothing but stay there on the floor, watching this Grounder, listening to Raven hail her on the radio over and over. It didn't end like this. It couldn't.

Her mind wandered to Bellamy, and she worried. If she died here today, would he be alright? Would he let the guilt consume him? Would he miss her?

Tears fell from her eyes as she tried to stop herself from crying out in pain and fear. She was still alive, though. She could still do something. The fight hadn't been knocked out of her just yet, even if she could feel herself dying with each drop of blood that left her body.

Forcing herself to move, Gina knew it was a death sentence, but she had to do something. She dragged herself over the floor, around the desk. Propping herself up, she looked at the panel. Self-destruct Initiated.

"Raven, we got a problem. A Grounder set off the self-destruct sequence. He has the codes on his arm. You have to get them."

Only the code could stop the sequence now. With the radio in her hand, she waited, she hoped. Bellamy had fallen for the Ice Nation's trap, but maybe, just maybe, they were good enough to stop this.

More and more blood was spilling from between her lips as she grasped the desk, begging it to support her, to hold her up. She believed in Raven, one of her closest friends. Raven would get the codes, they would stop the self-destruct. Everything would be okay.

Raven's voice reached Gina's ears over the radio, "How much time, Gina?"

"Forty-five seconds, Raven." She tried to keep the pain, the death out of her voice as she spoke. Even if they managed to stop the self-destruct, Gina felt pretty certain she wouldn't survive this.

Gina watched as the time ticked away, waiting for Raven to radio with the codes, but everything was growing so dim. Darkness was creeping in, and Gina knew she would die before she could save the lives of everyone left in Mount Weather. I'm sorry, Raven... I wanted to be there for you.

Tears came unwilled as Gina slumped over the desk, her blood everywhere. As the darkness consumed her mind, as she sat there dying, her last thought was with Bellamy: Bell, I'm so sorry. I couldn't save them. I couldn't be a hero. The light of the countdown reflected in her unseeing eyes as it ticked down to the death of all the innocents still inside Mount Weather.

Character Development - Betria Lyra Carrow (AU Post-Potter)

quidditch queen! puddlemere's newest chaser: betria carrow

by Jessalyn Blodget

We all adore Quidditch, but few of us in the magical world ever get the chance to really play competitively. I got the opportunity to interview Puddlemere United's newest chaser, Betria Carrow. Read everything from her childhood, to Hogwarts, to her career, and even her lovelife! Betria gushed on all the details of her life, and eve let me in on a few secrets!

The Woman Behind The Career

Jessalyn: Wow, hi! It's really cool to actually meet you! Is Betria alright?

Betria: Hey. Bertia's fine. Betty, Bet, and Bee work, too. I don't really care what you call me, really.

J: Cool, well, thanks for agreeing to the interview! Do you mind if I ask about your early childhood? We know you have a brother and a sister. What was it like growing up with them?

B: First of all, I have two sisters. (She sighed deeply and kind of rolled her eyes.) There's Del, who you already know about, and there's Cali. She's the baby. Poor girl. I'm sure you've had to have dug something up about her? No? I don't believe you, really, but I guess my mother did pretty well at hiding the information she didn't want getting out. Well, Cali is, y'see, a squib. My parents were too *****ing embarrased by having a squib daughter that they gave her up. Can you believe that? Giving up your own child? I mean, I was still a kid, but that when kind of when I started to grow apart from my family. I'm four years older than her, but she was way more fun to play with than Del. Anyway, Del and Aries are just kind of what you'd expect from a typical pureblood home, I guess. I haven't seen either of them in a while, though. Del's a bit cray, but she's my sister and I love her, y'know? I love Aries, too. Family is important, even when they're crazy.

Sorry if that got a little...deep for your article. I just want people to know that Cali exists and she's my baby sister, and I love her.

J: It's fine! Really! We're all so excited to learn more about you! Could you maybe tell us a little more about what it's like having a squib for a sister?

B: It's just like having anyone else for a sister. Except she's looked down on by most of the magical community for things she can't even control. And I never got to see her around Hogwarts, which was pretty much ****. All these other older siblings get the chance to guide their little siblings through how everything works, embarrass them in front of their friends... and I just got shafted. (She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.) Sorry, I just get really heated up about the way Cali's been treated sometimes - especially by the one's who were supposed to be there for her always.

J: Don't worry about it. It's really nice to see that you care about her so much. Where is she now?

B: I don't really know what she's doing right now. I haven't had the time to write her an actual owl in so long. I'm a ****** **** sister, I am. But I'm sure she's safe. The family that took her in? They love her to bits, and I love them for it. I don't know if they get that I'm so appreciative of them.

J: I see. Um, well, what can you tell us about your life at Hogwarts?

B: I don't think my time at Hogwarts was really any different than anyone else's. I joined the Quidditch team in my second year - thank Merlin I made the try-outs! And, well, Quidditch was pretty much everything to me from that point on. I did my homework as quickly and at as bare minimum requirements as possible just so I could practice more for the Quidditch games. A few of my friends said they thought I should have been in Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin. I don't know if they're right or not, but it doesn't really matter. It's just a silly label, anyway.

I did spend some time with my cousin. He had a lot of organizations going. Raising awareness about muggleborns or something. I was still a little set in the ways of my parents at the time, but I also didn't really care about purity. Either way, I was proud of my cousin. He did something most of us are afraid to do. I went to some of the meetings and such, but I generally stayed quiet there. No one really wants a pureblood to ruin a meeting like that. They all just kind of give you a disgusted look. I guess that's kind of how muggleborns felt before, huh?

J: Did you always know you wanted to be a professional Quidditch player?

B: Yes and no. My father got Aries this little kid broom. Y'know the type? The one's that barely hover off the ground? Yea, well, I took it. I liked it way more than he ever did, but I don't think my father wanted one of his daughters playing any sport, y'know? Me and him, we don't really get on very well. But I've always loved Quidditch. More so than Ari and Del, that's for sure. I ended up joining this silly like... little league in our town. Bunch of kids - y'know like aged seven to ten or so - just playing Quidditch as best we could with fake brooms. I knew I'd have to try-out for Quidditch as soon as possible when I got to Hogwarts.

It wasn't until fifth year, though, that I seriously considered it as a career, rather than just a hobby. With the OWL's coming up, I had to think about my future and all that. So I spoke with my head of house and we sort of decided that I should just throw myself at Quidditch. And that's what I did. I got decent OWL grades, mind you. Not that they really matter now, though. Anyways, I was put on the Puddlemere Reserve Team when I got out of Hogwarts. Er, well, I accepted the offer. I'd gotten a couple of others, but I wasn't looking to move away, really. So I took Puddlemere's offer. I played a few matches here and there with the team, and last year, when one of the chasers retired, I was the first choice. It's been incredible. Kind of like a dream, y'know?

J: So what are some of your hobbies outside of Quidditch?

B: Well, believe it or not, I've always been a huge fan of knitting. I learned how to knit without magic, even! I still mostly knit with magic, but it's fun to do without on occasion. I actually...I knit this horrid sweater for Ari for Christmas last year. Oh, it was HIDEOUS. Watching his face when he opened it? Priceless.

On occasion, I'll try my hand at baking. Usually results in some explosions, but it's all in good fun. Oh, one other thing I really enjoy? Muggle television. It's so incredible the things they come up with without magic.

The Lovelife of a Quidditch Star

J: I'm dying to know: is there a special someone waiting at home for you every night?

B: Sorry to disappoint, but no, there's no one.

J: You sound a little down. Was there someone until recently?

B: (She sighs, bites her lip, and looks off into the distance.) There was this one guy, but it's been years now. He's probably forgotten about me at this point. Anyways, we were actually engaged, me and him. He was just this...perfect, Scottish man. (There's a dreamy look in her eyes.) We had this, er, big sort of fight about three years ago now. It was so stupid - I was so stupid. But what's done is done.

J: I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure he hasn't forgotten, espeically with your name and face all over the news now! Are you looking forward to your uniting then?

B: I'm rather not, actually. I believe I've already found THE ONE, or however you'd want to call it. He's gone, though, so I guess that'll be... something. I feel bad for the poor soul that has to end up with me.

J: And why's that?

B: Because I've got a touch exterior, and not just anyone can get past that. I'm a pretty judgemental person - or I can be. Not to mention I often seem like I just don't give a ****. It gets on people's nerves. That's how it's always been. That's why all my relationships at Hogwarts ended, too.

J: Oh? How many boyfriends did you have at Hogwarts?

B: Well, it was just the three. All of 'em in the last few years, too. Two in fifth, and one in sixth and into seventh. Met my Scotsman after Hogwarts. But it doesn't matter really. I'm either going to find my Scotsman and make it all up to him before my uniting, or I'll end up with some rando and be forced into that.

J: In the meantime, are you dating at all?

B: Believe it or not, no one's asked me on a date in years! I wouldn't be opposed, though. I guess I'd rather find someont to spend my life with on my own than through the uniting - not that I'm against the law or anything like that, I suppose. I just feel like I'd like to choose my life partner.

But, er, yea. I'm generally free on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings. And I can usually swing a Friday and a Saturday here or there. But it's all going to revolve around the practice schedule and matches.

The Dream Job

J: So what is a typical day like for a professional Quidditch player?

B: Well, on a typical practice day, we're up at 'bout five in the morning? Maybe earlier? Eat a big breakfast - eggs, bacon, fried mushrooms, toast with butter or jam, baked beans, sausages... y'know, just the typical full breakfast. Let that settle for just a bit, then we get started. We start with typical stretches on the field, get our bodies warmed up and all that. Then we pick up the brooms and practice formations, strategies, and that sort of thing. We take a break for lunch, and then it's right back at it. Usually with a skirmish in the last afternoon. The whole reserve team practices with us, of course, so there's plenty of us for a skirmish. It's really great fun.

J: And you do that every day?

B: (She shrugs as if it's nothing.) Most days, at least. We're professional athletes, we've got to stay at the top of our game if we want to be the best. Besides, some of use are trying to get picked for England's national team for the next Quidditch World Cup tournament.

J: What do you do differently on the day of a match?

B: We don't typically get up as early on match days. Want to make sure we're rested for the game, after all. Run through some stretches, some formations. It's like a mini-practice before the game starts. Then we play the match, and we generally have off the next day.

J: So, what is it like being famous? Are you recognized everywhere you go?

B: It's weird, actually. Went through Hogwarts just being some girl on the Slytherin Quidditch team, right? And now I've got all these people I went to Hogwarts with acting like we've always been close. I don't go out too much anymore because of it. Sometimes it's nice though. Y'know? If you're feeling rotten, just go outside and all these people tell you how amazing you are, and you love them for it.

J: What will you do once you're done with Quidditch?

B: I haven't really thought about it much. I suppose I could go into Quidditch journalism. Or perhaps the ministry would take me for the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Or, who knows? Maybe I'll just go be a shopkeep at Quality Quidditch Supplies.

J: That's all the questions we have for you today. Thank you so much for the interview, Betria! It was great getting to know you.

B: It was cool. I can't imagine people reading about me, though. It's weird. Thanks for your time and all that. 

Chatting with Betria Carrow was an incredible opportunity. It almost made me wish I'd played more Quidditch when I was younger! Betria was great to work with, despite her sort of lethargic demeanor, and was actually a lot of fun. When it comes right down to it, she's just like you and me, but here are some things in particular we spotted about her and wanted to share with all of you:

* She is always striving to succeed, but she's humble about her success and her ride to the top.
* There is always confidence behind her kind smile.
* She knows how & isn't afraid to look out for herself, but she's incredibly loyal to those she loves.
* She's super nice! Until someone crosses her (Betria, if you're reading this, Jerry is really sorry, and he didn't mean it!)
* As a Syltherin, she can be ruthlessly cunning, but she's got a conscience that could rival Harry Potter's!
* She likes to keep to herself and isn't hugely into socializing.

We were given the chance to get some incredible picture of Betria practicing with the rest of Puddlemere United. Take a look at the next page for the photos!

Character Development - Arthur Weasley

AU - age 29 - first wizarding war
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Being the middle child is not exactly easy. Everyone seems to think it is, but it's really not. You have to live up to the expectations set by your older siblings while still being a good example for the younger ones. It's really all about balance - finding the line and walking straight along it. Of course you'll probably wobble a bit now and again, but it's something you'll learn to live with. You'll never be the best, but at least you won't be the worst, either. You'll always be right in the middle. Average. It's just who you are.

That was Arthur Weasley's life. It was the life he was born into as the second son of a second son of a second son. All middle children who swore to break the chain of average middle children - should they have that many. They did. None had succeeded, however, in making their middle son feel anything other than, well, average. Of course, little Arthur had no idea that his father might have made such a vow, and in fact, would probably never find out.

For the first four years of his life, Arthur was in his elder brother's shadow, following in his footsteps with a goofy smile on his adorable face. His parents loved them both very much. But just two? It was far from enough children for this Weasley family. Septimus and Cedrella, who had been burnt off the Black family tree for marrying a Weasley, had intended to have at least five children. When Arthur was four, his younger brother was born, but due to some strange complications with the pregnancy, there would be no more Weasley children- or any children for that matter- born of Cedrella. Despite the rather depressing news, Septimus and Cedrella welcomed their third child into their family and their home, glad to have the three they had.

While Septimus and Cedrella loved each of their children, they never seemed to realize what it felt like for Arthur growing up. He had to be more like his big brother, who was showing strong signs of magic at the age of seven; he had to set a good example for his younger brother, always being the one to take the baby's hand and lead him forward. Now, it really wasn't so bad. Arthur had a very loving family, after all. He just tended to get a little bit overshadowed. His elder brother got the praise for doing everything the first time - it was therefore less impressive when Arthur managed it. His younger brother was, well, the baby, which meant he got a lot of extra attention as babies tended to receive. Which left Arthur right in the middle of it all.

Arthur could remember the day his elder brother got his Hogwarts letter nearly perfectly. It had been raining and very grey. Not one of the boys were allowed to go outside. Might catch cold their mother had said. Which meant they only had the option to play indoors for the day. Arthur had been watching the window when the owl came with the letter. He had been almost as excited has his elder brother had been, a wide grin on his face. There had been so much excitement throughout the household that day. The first son of the current generation of Weasleys was about to go off to Hogwarts! There was a trip to London, ice cream, and they even bought an owl! It was so much excitement Arthur was nearly falling asleep on the way home.

It was September first. Arthur was holding the hand of his younger brother on the platform as they waved the eldest off to his first year at Hogwarts. Arthur patted his crying baby brother on the back, promising they'd see the eldest again and not to worry; before long, they'd both be at Hogwarts, too.

Christmas finally came. Arthur's eldest brother came home with stories upon stories upon stories to tell to his two younger brothers who sat, enrapt by his words. He pulled something out of his bag and handed it to the youngest. It was a small wrapped box. He did the same for Arthur. Upon opening the box, wrapping paper strewn about, Arthur found a most curious item. His brother told him it was a "rubber duck" and he had gotten it from his muggle-born friend. Arthur was more than a little fascinated with the item. In fact, one might even have said he'd grown obsessed with it. It was there, in that moment, that Arthur knew he wanted to study muggles, to somehow work between the magical & Muggle worlds. He wasn't sure how he was going to do it yet, but he knew he would get there one day. It was his dream.

Two years passed and all that happened was Arthur's love for all things Muggle growing deeper and deeper. Well, and he got his Hogwarts letter, of course. Now, with his elder brother's hand-me-downs and a wand of his own, Arthur waved goodbye to his family as he stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express. It was even more incredible than he could have imagined. It would be four more years before his youngest brother would get to experience this, but Arthur was still looking forward to that day.

Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Arthur could hardly contain his excitement. His elder brother was no where to be seen, but that wasn't much of a surprise, really, considering the difference in years. The boats, though! Arthur loved the boats. He could recall a commotion coming from one of the other boats, but other than that, it had been perfect, like a dream. The way the lights played on the surface of the pristine lake. It was something Arthur would never forget - a story he would be sure to tell his younger brother, and, eventually, his own children. Arthur wondered how anything could be as amazing and perfect as that boat ride, and honestly, never expect anything to match the wonder he'd felt on the lake that night.

The Sorting Hat had barely touched Arthur's ginger hair before it had shouted out GRYFFINDOR! With a wide grin on his face, Arthur joined the Gryffindor house table - his elder brother was there, cheering the loudest. A few more first years were sorted before Arthur heard the name of the woman he subconsciously decided he was going to marry: Molly Prewett. His jaw dropped, his heart fluttered. He didn't really know it yet - because he was only eleven years old - but he was really in love. She was just so perfect, more so than the boat ride across the lake, and now, now he knew for sure, nothing else would ever be as beautiful.

Arthur tried several times throughout his first year at Hogwarts to talk to Molly, but she never seemed to notice him. Perhaps he was just too quiet, or maybe it was that he was just too...average. But it didn't matter. There were still years ahead of them in which he would be able to finally find the perfect way to talk to her.

Year two, and nothing to show for it. Well, aside from having a bit of a spat with a few other purebloods. The Weasley family were known to be blood traitors. Arthur, as it turns out, felt very strongly about this. He stood up for a couple of his (mostly) new muggle-born friends, and it sure got a bit messy. Luckily, almost no one was around to see it all. Arthur knew that, from that day onwards, he would never give a second thought to blood purity. Sure, he'd been told to treat all wizards equally by his parents, but he had never encountered such venom and bitterness all because of blood, and he knew that the purebloods were wrong. It was a belief that would come to shape much of his later life.

Third year arrived with much excitement from Arthur. This was the year. It had finally come! It was the first year he would be able to take the Muggle Studies class, and he could hardly wait. It was strange, though, because despite his excitement, it still seemed as though he blended into the background, hardly noticed by anyone - save when they needed someone to pick on or cheat off of. He was, after all, still a middle child. Yes, of course he had friends, but he was never special. He didn't seem to stand out in his classes, despite being rather clever, and he certainly didn't stand out in the looks department considering his tall, lanky, gangly appearance. But it really didn't bother him. He was happy with his life, and he knew, eventually, that he would talk to Molly Prewett, and, somehow, win her heart.

Muggle Studies was not quite what Arthur had imagined it would be, but it was amazing nonetheless. He learned a lot more than he might have expected, but that comes with growing up in a pureblooded family, he supposed. In fact, he was fairly certain no one he'd ever known in his entire family had ever really had contact with a real Muggle. Muggle-borns, sure, but not a Muggle. He wondered if he'd ever get the opportunity to meet a Muggle in real life - he had so many questions already! He dug deeper than probably any previous student in the Muggle Studies class, forsaking some of his other classes in order to do so, even. Muggle Studies had captured Arthur's mind. It was all he could think about, and he knew that he would, one way or another, work with Muggles and their interesting culture - whether it be directly or indirectly.

At the start of his fourth year at Hogwarts, Arthur's youngest brother joined Gryffindor. Arthur cheered the loudest - even louder than their eldest brother. It was incredible to be able to be there to answer whatever questions his little brother had. Granted, a majority of them seemed to be asked in secret - the youngest didn't want to look uncool in front of his new classmates. Arthur had simply chuckled to himself before turning back to the Muggle book he was reading - it was about electricity! - and staring over the top of the pages at Molly Prewett, laughing with her friends.

Arthur tried talking to Molly again. He didn't do any better at the age of fourteen than he had at the age of eleven. He knew now, though, that when his heart raced as he thought of her, that it might be love. Then again, maybe it wasn't. One Hogsmeade weekend, Arthur was asked to visit Madam Puddifoot's with a rather awkward Ravenclaw. She was a nice enough girl, and of course Arthur had said yes, but he knew, even from that one little date, that she wasn't the one for him. It only made him yearn for Molly all the more.

It was time for Arthur to study for his O.W.L.s. Boy, was he nervous. He knew he wanted to get into something relating to Muggles, but he had never really taken the time to figure out what sort of field that could be. Wizard-Muggle relations? But that sounded so...stiff. Would he be able to be the same person if that were his career path? This required some serious thinking. And perhaps some serious studying. As long as he got high enough marks in Muggle Studies, and most of the other classes he might need a N.E.W.T. level class for, well... he'd be alright.

Arthur went on a few more dates with the rather awkward Ravenclaw. She was nice, but Arthur felt wrong about it all. He knew he had to put an end to it before she started thinking things were getting serious and got hurt more than she already would be. He made sure to end it gently, away from crowds and the like. But, of course, she was still hurt, still claimed she'd never be able to forgive him.

With sixth year starting, Arthur realized he was running out of time. He needed to get Molly to notice him, to fall for him as completely as he'd already done for her. But the question was how. He still had several classes on his plate, too: charms, potions, transfiguration, defense against the dark arts, and muggle studies, having just squeaked by on most of them. And yet, somehow, his classes seemed so dull now that time was running out on his Molly problem.

It was the middle of the year when Arthur finally got his chance. There was a party. Molly was there. And thank Marlin for liquid courage, eh? He remembered inhaling deeply, thinking about how he really needed to just...talk to her...and then his memory went blank. Well, until the two of them were in the hallway. Molly was wobbling rather ferociously. She even fell and scraped her knee. Arthur was sorry he hadn't been able to catch her in time. He didn't laugh - that would have been rude - he simply helped her up. The next thing he knew, she had kissed him - was kissing him. And it was everything he had hoped it would be. His heart skipped a beat, it felt like he had wings. He knew that if she were by his side, he could do anything. And as much as he loved that kiss, the taste of her lips, he pulled back shyly, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped her walk a bit more steadily. Who knows if she'd really wanted to kiss him or if it had just been the alcohol. Whatever the case, he wouldn't take advantage of her. They walked the grounds for hours that night, just talking. He told her all about his love of Muggles, his family...everything; and he wanted to know every little thing about her, drinking in her every word as though he were dying of thirst. It was four in the morning when they returned to the Gryffindor common room, and Arthur was sure he'd never had a better day at Hogwarts than this one.

The next day was in competition with Arthur's night out with Molly for a long time. The only reason was because Molly was no longer ignoring him. He had done it! The way she waved to him, the smile on her lips... It distracted him for the entire day. It was no use doing his homework - he'd only end up scribbling her name all over the parchment. The next chance he got, he asked if she would go to Hogsmeade with him - to Madam Puddifoot's. He was over the moon when she agreed. If anyone were to ask Arthur, it had been a perfect date. Arthur figured Molly had liked it - and him - well enough since she kept talking to him after the fact. And she didn't seem to mind the nickname he'd come up with for her after the night of the party, either: Mollywobbles.

By the time they were leaving Hogwarts, the threat of war was coming. It loomed like a dark cloud on the horizon. Who knew what could happen tomorrow? The future was being tossed about like a ship in a storm, always uncertain. Arthur had turned to Molly one afternoon when they were having a quiet lunch together during the Christmas holiday, when she had said "Let's elope, Arthur." Despite the surprise, Arthur was more than overjoyed that she would want to marry him. He agreed, and soon after leaving Hogwarts, they ran away together. Of course Arthur wrote to his family later, explaining everything. They weren't upset, really. Rather, they seemed rather excited to meet Molly, and Arthur couldn't wait to introduce her.

Arthur was only twenty years old when his first son was born. William, they named him - Bill for short. He was a beautiful baby boy, and Arthur couldn't have been more proud. He had a good feeling that everything was going to go very well for the family he and Molly were growing. He was working at the Ministry, a junior assistant in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. It was everything he could have dreamed of in a job! And he'd been hired just after he and Molly had eloped. It was perfect timing, too. The signing bonus was enough for them to buy an adorable little home with - The Burrow, they called it - and when little Bill was born, they began adding on to the house - as they would do for years to come with each new child as they needed more and more space.

Charlie was rather unexpected. Not that Arthur minded, of course, as he was looking forward to having a family - a real, and large, family with the love of his life. But two children, and so close together, made things difficult. Arthur found himself spending entirely too much time working in an attempt to make sure ends would meet - that his wife and two wonderful sons - would have all they could ever dream of. Arthur knew Molly needed him, but he also knew he had to provide for her, and he was torn. He never let Molly see the anguish he felt at being away from her so much; instead he always greeted her with love and warmth whenever he made it home.

The next four years were rough, but they evened out. Things were alright in the Weasley household. Arthur was making enough money to support his wife and two sons, himself, and own a home. Things were looking up. Aside from the looming cloud of war rolling in faster and faster. Arthur worried about his family. Would they be safe? He knew his own family had been labeled blood traitors long ago, and with the purists seeming to come out, Arthur was terrified that his family would be in danger. He would spend hours at work, worrying about it all, trying to see a way to protect them while still taking a stand against the purists and their backwards views. With all that weighing him down, the birth of Percy was a welcome distraction. Percy was just as perfect as his two older brothers, but it meant another mouth to feed. Arthur worried that he and Molly had made a mistake bringing another child into the world - this world in particular, one where someone would be thought of as less simply because of who their parents were. Still, Arthur believed his son to be a bright spot in a darkening world, and he was glad he and Molly had made the decision they did.

Two years passed. It was 1977, and the world was dark and full of terrors. Arthur and Molly had been talking about having another child - she really wanted a daughter, and who was he to deny her? Arthur had been in bed beside a sleeping Molly, trying to figure out their budget for the next baby, when the owl came. His parents had been murdered. They weren't sure who had done it, but Arthur had his suspicions considering the rising tensions between the purists and, well, everyone else. Arthur had never felt so infuriated in his entire life. First, they - whoever they really were - were creating a world in which Arthur was terrified for the futures of his children; second, they murdered his parents. It was too much. Arthur knew he had to do something. Arthur kissed his sleeping wife's forehead, wrote her a note explaining what had happened, and met his brothers at his parent's house to deal with the aftermath.

It wasn't long after his parents' deaths when Arthur was contacted by Albus Dumbledore. The elderly wizard explained calmly about a group he was building to fight against The Death Eaters. The group was called the Order of the Phoenix, and Albus was asking if Arthur would join the battle. Arthur said he needed some time to think about it. He didn't mention it to Molly at all. Now was not the time.

Molly and Arthur had decided on another child - might as well fill the world with good, if they could. Much to their surprise, one child turned out to be two: twins! Arthur had nearly fainted at the news. This would require a whole new budget - and a decent amount of overtime. At least Arthur had just been promoted from junior assistant to assistant - that would give them a little bit of extra money for sure, but it would still be rough. It was a miracle, to say the very least, that Arthur was actually home the very moment that Molly went into labor with the twins - and early, at that! It was a long labor. So long that Arthur found himself leaving in the middle to finish up some work and returning before it was over. But when it was, Arthur could hardly hold back the joy he felt at being a father once - or rather twice - again. 

After the twins were born, Albus approached Arthur again. He thought about his family and how worried he was that his children might grow up in a world where hating muggle-borns was considered right. He agreed to join the Order, even shook Dumbledore's hand. That night, when he came home, he explained it all to Molly. Of course, it had resulted in a fight. The biggest one they ever had. Arthur was firm in his belief that joining the fight was the only way to ensure that their children were raised in a safe, happy, non-discriminatory home. Molly begged him to reconsider, but he would not budge on this decision. Any other time, he would have willingly given into his wife's wishes, but this time...this time was different.

With the fight behind them, and Arthur on an incredibly rare holiday from work, he looked at his beautiful wife. He wanted to give her everything, and he knew how badly she wanted a daughter, and it made him want a daughter just as much. Arthur dreamed of the day a little Weasley girl would be born into the world - she would be the first for generations! - and the look on Molly's face at holding a daughter? Arthur would have given almost anything to see that look. He managed to convince Molly that the...fifth time would be the charm, really.

With Molly pregnant once again, Arthur is doing all he can at work to pull ends together, to provide for the family he's always wanted, that he has now. On top of all of that, he goes out, night after night, fighting with the Order against the Death Eaters, hoping for a better tomorrow. And Arthur knows, that somewhere out there, it's possible that his father is smiling, knowing that he finally raised a middle child who was more than just average. Arthur Weasley knew he was more than just a middle child: he was the hope for the future of his children.

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for a site called Infinite Arms

Character Development - Gwendolyn Tully (AU Game of Thrones)

15 - 283AL

Born in Riverrun, Gwendolyn was the second daughter of Edmure and Allyria Tully. The maesters and septas have told her that she was such a happy baby: red-faced with laughter more often than tears. Gwen would simply smile at the stories, continue with whatever it was she was doing, and wonder to herself if it were really true. She certainly didn't feel like someone who had been a happy baby-- not that she really knew what that felt like, though. Allyria doted on the infant in a way she hadn't quite done with her first born daughter. Not that the infant noticed, and, in fact, had she not later noticed the difference in the way her mother acted with her as opposed to her elder sister, Gwen might never have known at all.

14 - 284AL

The first year of little Gwen's life was uninteresting, to say the least. Nothing much happened. There was no plague, no anything, really. Yes, there were still people dying, but the plague was dying as well. Gwen was only one year old, and none of this really meant a thing to her. Generally speaking, Gwen simply laughed at everything and tugged on the skirts of those older than her. More importantly, at the tender age of one, Gwendolyn became a princess. Rhaegar split the seven kingdoms, and, being the second daughter of the now King of Riverrun, Gwen was a princess. And yet, she was still a child that did not understand the meaning of the words being told to her.

What did mean something to her, however, was the birth of another baby. Gwendolyn became a big sister. Sure, she might have only been one year old, but she loved the new baby. It wouldn't have come as shock to anyone to find out that the little princess thought the baby was her own personal doll, made just for her. It really was a wonderful time to be little Gwen.

13 - 285AL

Two years old and already a trouble maker. Well, sort of. Having already learned to walk-- and run-- little Gwen found her greatest pleasure in making everything a game of Hide & Seek. She would play with anyone willing to let her play with them, stranger or no. This was the year the last person infected by the plague died, ridding the world of the disease. All that meant to the two-year-old princess, though, was that she was no longer kept only within the confines of the castle, and was once carried out by her father on a visit to commonfolk. All little Gwen could see was a great deal of new people to play Hide & Seek with. It was a good thing her father did not put her down that day.

10 - 288AL

By the time she was five years old, Gwendolyn had become quite the little lady. She was almost perfect at her curtsy, and was able to recite a couple of short poems. On top of all that, she was learning how to sing, do needlepoint, and everything about all of the other houses and the history they all shared by being in Westeros. Gwen enjoyed learning, but she wanted to be able to do the things her elder sister was doing, too. There, growing deep down, was the seed of jealousy. Gwen knew her mother favored the eldest- perhaps it was the way her mother spoke of Alora, or perhaps it was something else, but somehow, Gwen felt sure she was correct. And while she was jealous, she did not let it bother her.

When it came right down to it, Gwen knew she would never be anything like her elder sister. Alora was tough, rigid, and inspiring. Gwendolyn was a romantic at heart, soft, and would likely find herself terrified were she to be in Alora's shoes.

Whenever she was not required to be indoors, Gwendolyn would find her way to the garden. There she would glance around before taking off her delicate shoes and dancing around in the dirt and grime. She would always come back indoors with a handful of flowers picked specially for her mother. Gwendolyn loved her mother, loved her sisters, and her father, too. Family, Duty, Honor. It was already engrained into her every day thoughts and actions, even at the tender age of five.

7 - 291AL

Gwendolyn was eight years old when she had her first dream about her future wedding. It was lovely and perfect. There had been cherry tarts, lemon cakes, and even apple crisps! She had looked stunning in her wedding gown, and her betrothed had been the most handsome man in all of Westeros. Upon waking, she could hardly wait to tell her younger sister and their handmaidens. Romance was all the little princess could think about nowadays. It was in all the stories - or so it seemed anyways. Gwen could hardly wait for the day when she would become a woman and have a beautiful wedding to a handsome man- perhaps a knight!- and they would live together in a castle, with several children, and a lifetime of true love.

It was a warm day when Gwen decided to slip out without permission. She found herself wandering around the garden, a soft smile on her lips. Stumbling upon a person she'd never met before, she greeted him kindly and asked what he was doing. The man explained to her that he was planting some new flowers. Interested in the idea, Gwen asked the man to teach her. He seemed rather nervous, but he hesitantly agreed once she began almost begging him.

Upon returning inside, Gwendolyn got quite the reprimand. She was covered in dirt- it had likely ruined the gown she'd been wearing- and she'd forgotten to bring her shoes back inside with her. Afterwards, Gwen was sitting alone on her bed, studying silently as she had been told to do. She had already been scrubbed clean after her gardening adventure, and there seemed to be no trace left of what fun she'd had that day.

5 - 293AL

Two years after the garden incident, Gwen finally asked her father to allow her to visit with the commonfolk. There was some deliberation between her father, her uncle, her mother, and her teachers. In fact, there was a couple days worth of deliberation before Gwendolyn was finally told she would be allowed to visit the commonfolk- but she was to remain under close supervision. Luckily, the person doing the supervising would be her uncle Bryndyn. Despite generally being afraid of the man, Gwen found she really did love her uncle, and this just proved it all the more.

The day they went out, he did not watch her like a hawk watching its prey. Instead, he gave her simple guidelines, and she found them easy enough to follow. It seemed everyone knew who she was, and she wondered if it was because of her hair, but she guessed it was more likely the fact that she had come riding in with her uncle on a horse waving the Tully banner, surrounded by a few good guards...and her dress was of a finer- and cleaner- material than anything they were wearing. She smiled at everyone she met, asked them a few questions about their lives, their flowers. In the whole day, Gwen found one person in particular whom she admired: a painter. He made such beautiful images using dyes, and it amazed Gwen. She wondered if it was a skill that would be easy to learn. Then again, considering the mess the man made, Gwen doubted she would be able to convince anyone that this painting skill would be better suited to a lady than learning needlepoint and weaving for tapestries.

3 - 295AL

The morning that Gwen woke in a pool of blood, she screamed. Loudly. It caused quite the commotion, really. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and it took her mother's soothing to calm her down. There was no need to be afraid, not really. It was simply the mark of womanhood. Gwen spent the rest of the day in bed after the sheets had been taken to be cleaned, that is, and replaced. She wondered why it was such a big deal if all she was going to do would be to stay in bed feeling like she was going to die. She asked her mother if it would always hurt this much. For the life of her, she could never recall her mother's answer, but Gwen liked to imagine her mother had said it would get better.

Lying there, in bed, gwen tried to imagine what this meant for her now. She was no longer a child, and it was time for her to stop acting like one. In the morning, she promised to act like a proper lady from then on. She was sure that within a few years time, she would be betrothed, anyways, so why not start acting like someone the knight in her dreams might be proud to call wife? Twelve was a good an age as any to be a proper wife, after all!

2 - 296AL

Ever since she had been granted her first adventure to visit the commonfolk, Gwendolyn took it for all it was worth. She visited as frequently as she could, talking with the people, smiling, laughing, singing, and, on occasion, dancing with them. She never told her father about the dancing- he would be sure to never allow her to return if he ever found out. There were a couple of farm girls, her age, whom Gwen had taken a particular liking to. She enjoyed their company, and were it not for the difference in their statuses, she might have called them friends. She wondered if she might be able to convince her father to bring at least one of them on as a new handmaiden. That way, at least, Gwen could spend all the time she liked with at least one of them. She made a note to ask about it later.

The jealousy that had started to grow years earlier finally buds. Gwen watches her elder sister with a doting look of anger. Gwen feels certain that Alora will be Queen of Riverrun one day, and it makes her want to scream, want to shout. Gwen was never as close to Alora as she was with Laisa, so she cannot be certain that her elder sister actually loves Riverrun as much as Gwendolyn does, and she believes that a queen that does not love her home should not rule it. The only person Gwen ever mentions her envious feelings to is Laisa. Laisa means the whole world to Gwen, and being only a year apart in age, they grew up doing just about everything together. Gwen made Laisa promise to never tell a single soul. So far as Gwen was ever aware, Laisa never did.

1 - 297AL

Fourteen years old and still without a betrothal. Where a good number of girls her age would see this as a terrible curse, Gwen looks upon it with optimism. That means she still has a chance to find her true love! Perhaps at the next tourney she'll meet themost handsome knight in all of Westeros, and he will ask for her hand. It is simply a lovely story she had made up in her head, and she sighs as she sits, staring out the window at the rivers, running fingers through her curls.

It is the middle of the year when she met a boy. She couldn't recall which house he hailed from, but she was certain it was one of the houses pledged to her father- Erenford? Wode? Perhaps Mooton? He was a few years her elder, but he had been so perfect- handsome, kind, strong... Gwendolyn was certain he had liked her just as much as she'd liked him. They had spent a short while talking, but never alone. When he had left, Gwen knew she would always be able to recall what his lips felt like against the back of her hand. She dreamt of him that night, and many nights afterwards. In fact, it was not uncommon that his was the face she now saw in dreams of her wedding day. He had said he would return, and Gwen wondered, with hope in her heart, when that day would come.

0 - 298AL

As the days came and went, Gwendolyn was beginning to believe the boy in her dreams would never come back to her. She wondered if perhaps she had simply imagined him the whole time. Her heart was heavy, but she went on living. She was fifteen now, practically an adult.

Being an adult, when Gwendolyn got the news that she was to wed Theon Greyjoy, of the Iron Isles, she managed to act like it was the best news she had ever gotten in her entire life. It wasn't. Truth be told, Gwen was excited that she was finally betrothed, that her wedding day was now only just around the corner; but she was not excited about to whom she was betrothed. She knew the reputation of the Iron Islanders- she had been a good student.

Gwendolyn sat in the window, looking out at the rivers she loved so dearly, thinking about her new betrothal, about the boy who would never come back for her, and about a home far away that she might never love. Would it really be as bad as she was making it all out to be? She hoped not, hoped she would be proven wrong. Whatever the outcome, Gwen promised herself to stay optimistic about it all. It was all she could do.

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for a site called A Call To Arms

Character Development - Bellatrix Lestrange

Bellatrix Lestrange is from the Harry Potter series created by J.K. Rowling.

*This character development post assumes the year is 1979 and Bellatrix is approximately 26 years old*

I should have been a boy.

A thought that frequents Bellatrix's mind. Being a born a boy would have made everything so much easier. For everyone. If only she had been born a boy. Maybe she wouldn't have been a disappointment to her father. Maybe she wouldn't have hated her mother. Maybe she would have had the absolute perfect life. Not that she really had anything to complain about seeing as how she lived an almost charmed life as the daughter of Druella and Cygnus. She was a pureblood, after all. At least she had done that much right.

The firstborn, Bellatrix was the trial. And what a trial she was. While the upbringing had been left to Druella, Bellatrix had always craved Daddy's attention, always strived to make her father proud. Yet Cygnus always seemed blind to her efforts. Her mother was so very determined to make Bella into a perfect lady. Bella wanted none of it. She tested her mother, pushed her mother's limits, pushed her mother to wit's end, if she could. All with a perfect, innocent smile on her face and a gleam of crazed hatred in her eyes. Bella was only two years old when her first sister, Andromeda, was born. People assume that two years olds are innocent beings-- terrible, but innocent, generally speaking. Bella was no such thing. If ever left alone with the baby, she would poke it, terrorize it, until it began to wail uncontrollably. The sound of Andromeda crying always seemed to put a sadistic smile on Bella's young face. It was all well and good, torturing the poor little creature until it cried. Until she was caught. Druella had been more than slightly peeved that it was her own child, her own daughter, causes so much unnecessary stress, making the baby cry every ten minutes. That was the very first time Bella was reprimanded by her father. At first, the two-year-old Bella had thought she had done something right, something to win her father's affection. Then she realized how wrong she had been. While the memory was only fuzzy, it stuck with Bella for years and years, only finally disappearing once she joined the Death Eaters.

After her father's reprimand of her behavior, Bella treated her sister a bit differently. While Andromeda was still very much a plaything, Bella made sure to take her little sister under her wing. There was a certain power in being an elder sibling, Bella found, and loved it, craved it, even. She treated her sister with a false kindness just to hold that power over the child. Of course, there was some underlying love, but Bella hardly noticed. It was the power that drove her then. Power and the thirst for her father's acceptance.

I should have been a boy.

Druella always tried with Bellatrix, but Bella never made it easy. Rather, she thought her mother tried too hard. All Bella really wanted was the acceptance of her father-- some indication that she wasn't a complete and utter disappointment. The desire to do right by him drove her mad some days. She was seven years old when she lost it entirely. Neither of her parents were there to witness it, but poor little Andromeda was. Bellatrix was so longing for any notice from her father, so fed up with her mother pushing andpushing her to be a proper lady. Bellatrix grabbed her younger sister by the upper arms as tightly as she could, tighter possibly, and screamed at her, told Andromeda she, Andromeda, wasn't good enough, that she would never be good enough because she should have been born a boy, and it was all. Her. Fault! Bella told her little sister that because Andromeda wasn't born a boy, their father hated them. Both of them. It was all her fault. That rage, that desperation for her father's love and approval, brought on Bella's first bout of magic. A rosebush standing nearby to the two girls caught flame. It burned brightly, drawing Bella's attention away from Andromeda, a smirk on her lips.

I should have been a boy.

As she grew, Bella acted out against her mother's wishes. She had a fiery temperament that could hardly be reigned in. There were a number of times she deliberately did exactly the opposite of what her mother demanded, times she acted out with unnecessary violence or unruly behavior. All of it to see her father. The father that hated her for being a girl. Such a disgusting word, really. Every time she was punished by her father, she liked it a little bit more. Of course, she always put on the face of agony and despair while it was happening, but as soon as she was out of sight, she was grinning like the maniac she was becoming.

Nine years old and a terror. Bella hardly cared to be ladylike, but could easily put on the facade and play along. That much she had learned from her mother. Druella seemed to find enjoyment in dressing her eldest in hideous colors-- pinks and purples that complemented her dark complexion. Bellatrix hated every second of it, but always seemed the proper little lady when they went to family gatherings, to parties, to play dates. Of course, when the adults' backs were turned, she found a particular enjoyment in prodding little Sirius with her boot, watching him fall to the ground, just as he was learning to walk on his own. He was her cousin, so she was obligated to tolerate him, but she hoped she wouldn't be arranged to marry this child one day. She hated him for being a boy, for being the one who would carry on the Black family name-- the name that should have been hers to carry on.

That was the year Narcissa was born. From the way her mother had acted, Bella knew it had been a miracle she was even having another child, and, just like her father, Bella hoped and hoped for a little boy. Much to her disappointment, it was another girl. Another girl. Peering down into the cradle, Bella sneered at her new baby sister, hissed at her that the baby that it was a disappointment, that it was supposed to have been a boy, a miracle. The baby cried and Bella slipped out of the room unnoticed. The baby had such fine hair, so very different from her own and Andromeda's. It almost made Bella curious how the baby would turn out. Almost. But nine-year-olds didn't really care about that sort of thing.

I should have been a boy.

Getting her Hogwarts letter was the happiest Bella had ever been-- aside from punishments by her father, of course. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that she would be sorted into Slytherin house. It was, after all, the best house. She could hardly wait to attend, but seeing as she was born on such a dark day in January, she would have to wait. When the day finally came that she was to be sent off to Hogwarts, Bella was overwhelmed with glee. It was strange to her, feeling so joyful without causing something pain or being punished by her father. Yet she felt it all the same. In two years time, Andromeda would join her at Hogwarts, but glancing at the blonde two-year-old before leaving on the train, Bella would never be at Hogwarts with her youngest disappointment of a sister, Narcissa. At least this one looked like the princess their mother had always wanted. Bella was only sorry that she wouldn't be there to counteract their mother's joy with her terrorism. But Cissa was her sister-- baby sister-- and she felt a certain affection for the fair thing.

Hogwarts was everything Bella had ever dreamed it would be. Being one of the first on the list, she was sorted into Slytherin, as expected, without any deliberation on the Hat's part. A crazed grin on her face, she joined the table and her fellow housemates. It wasn't long before she got a reputation for being ruthless, and it wasn't uncommon for students to call her crazy behind her back as she embraced everything that it meant to be a Slytherin. She openly disliked muggle-borns and looked down on half-bloods. Generally speaking, students outside of Slytherin were, at best, ignored. Of course, when a professor happened to be around, Bella acted the perfect lady she'd been raised to be, a twisted smile on her lips.

Second year. That was when Rodolphus joined the ranks of Slytherin. Bellatrix recalled her mother informing her of an arranged marriage that was to take place between the two of them. Bella had felt nothing at the news-- well, perhaps a slight tint of joy that she wasn't being made to marry that baby of a cousin of hers Sirius Black. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she tried to imagine the scandal of keeping her last name, ofinsisting that her husband-to-be take the Black family name, as well. It was, clearly, the better of the two names, so why shouldn't anyone want to have it? But since she couldn't do that, couldn't keep the Black family name, she had to bebetter. She had to be the best. She was already a girl, which made it difficult to be as outstanding as she knew she should have been, but it didn't hold her back. She constantly held it over Rodolphus's head that she was ahead of him, that she knewmore than him. Clearly, she was the better of the two. If she could have gotten her way, she wouldn't be marrying anyone.

I should have been a boy.

It was her third when when Andromeda came to Hogwarts as a first year. There was a part of Bellatrix that was excited. Excited to have her sister here with her, to be able to point out the mudbloods to avoid. There was so much expectation riding on Andromeda that Bella had never outright mentioned, but it was there nonetheless. When Andromeda was called up to the Sorting Hat, Bella sat up straight, tall, expectant...proud, even. When the Sorting Hat didn't place Andromeda in Slytherin immediately, Bella grew worried, skeptical, as she stared with a white-hot intensity at her sister sitting before the entirely of the great hall. Finally, the Hat declared Andromeda placed in Slytherin, and no one, not a single person, cheered louder than Bellatrix did as her sister took her rightful place at Bella's side.

I should have been a boy.

As the years went by, Bellatrix grew to be more and more ruthless, more and more violent, more and more angry, more and more crazy. Everyone could see it. Yet she still somehow managed to climb to the top of the social ladder in Slytherin. The best of the best, as if Bellatrix Black would ever consider settling for less. She walked the corridors with her head held high, a sneer on her face, and a threat for any mudbloods that happened to cross her path. If Bellatix was grateful to her mother for one thing, it was the skills to fake everything and be a proper socialite. Andromeda was growing into a bigger and bigger disappointment. It was almost as though, and the thought made Bella laugh like a crazed hermit, Andromeda didn'tcare about blood purity. Then Andromeda started to actually spend time with that one mudblood-- not even worthy of Bellatrix forgetting his name, let alone remembering it-- and the disappointment climbed ever higher. Bella could only hope that Andromeda hadn't influenced baby Cissa into being accepting of mudbloods. Hatred for Andromeda had started then and would only grow and grow the more time she spent with the mudblood. On that fateful day when Andromeda actuallymarried the filthy mudblood, though, was the day she ceased to exist. Andromeda was no better than the other mudbloods, for all Bella cared. It was a betrayal, and should she ever encounter Andromeda again, Bellatrix was certain she would kill her sister without a question, without hesitation.

I should have been a boy.

After graduation from Hogwarts had come and gone, Bellatrix had only one thing on her mind: Lord Voldemort. He had grown to be ever-present in her mind as she learned more and more about him, about his Death Eaters. It was everything she ever wanted, as as soon as she was able, she went to join the ranks of her fellow purists. It wasn't simple adoration Bellatrix felt when she first came upon Voldemort, oh no. It was love, the strongest she'd ever felt, and yet it was still a corruption of the emotion, far from pure. There was nothing she wouldn't do for him, nothing she wouldn't do to proveherself to him. Killing was easy, torture was even easier, perhaps because it was just so enjoyable. Everything she did, she did for him. She had to be the best, had to prove she was the most devoted, the most loyal. Being a girl would not hold her back, not this time.

Voldemort had become everything. The Death Eaters were her life. As a married woman, she had no need of an occupation, and so all of her time was spent working for Voldemort. She found herself craving him, craving his attention, his acceptance, the way she had once craved her father's love and acceptance. While she still wanted to make her father proud of her, he had been replaced by Voldemort, the only man she would ever really love.

I should have been a boy.

Upon marrying Rodolphus, Bellatrix was reminded of her wifely duties-- that she was meant to produce an heir, to carry on the bloodlines. The idea sickened her. If only she had been born a boy, everything would have been perfect. She would have carried on the Black family name, would have been the best son any pureblood family could have asked for. But she had been born a female, meant to bring some other man's child into this world. She was not meant to be a brood bitch, giving birth to whelps every few years. Besides, were she to have children, they would be carrying on the Lestrange name-- a name far inferior to Black, and which she refused to pass on. So she did what any sane woman would do and cursed herself until she was barren, no longer able to produce children. The scandal of it being found out did not bother her in the slightest. She refused to be used for breeding, plain and simple.

As time wore on, she decided Rodolphus was the best possible match she could have been made. He was similar to her, if less devoted. But at least he shared her ideals and goals and was a pureblood. What more could she have asked for? Not to mention the fact that he didn't tell a single soul about her inability to bare him children. There was no divorce, so scandal. While he wasn't the Dark Lord, he was...alright. In fact, she almostappreciated him. Almost.

I should have been a boy.

The thought still haunts Bella's every moment, every step. She was denied her rightful place as the heir of the Black family name, and, of course, she blames her mother. Things have gotten better, though, since the days of her childhood when she was nothing but a mere disappointment. She has proven herself a capable dark wizard, ever loyal to the Dark Lord, nearly to the point of obsession. Enjoyment comes from the killing, maiming, and torturing of mudbloods and those nasty Order members. But she knows, in her heart of hearts-- even though it is black as pitch and, generally speaking, quite shriveled-- the Dark Lord will have his way, and she will be there at his side when it happens.