Title: Opposite End of the Spectrum
Rated: Teen
Characters/Pairings: Bellatrix Black/Tom Marvolo Riddle
Summary: "Had he been a pureblood, perhaps she would have looked at him more often." Bellatrix Black contemplates her most loyal follower.
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Harry Potter; J.K. Rowling does.
Author's note: This just popped into my head, and I had to write it. It was something that intrigued me. Don't worry, I'm working on Shadow of Light too.
The first time Tom Riddle had been brought before her, she had been struck with a child like curiosity.
He was a handsome boy, just out of Hogwarts school; dark hair, dark eyes, everything but his skin was dark, which was oddly fitting for someone so eager to joined the ranks of her Death Eaters. He soon proved himself to be a powerful practitioner of the Dark Arts, capable of killing with barely a thought. Riddle quickly moved up the ranks of her followers, gaining quite the notorious reputation.
She had always been able to see it in his eyes when he looked at her. They appeared to be the same age, though she was by far the eldest of the two. He might have been an accomplished Occlumens, but there was no disguising the achingly clear lust he had developed for her. She offered him sultry smiles, sometimes graced his cheek with her touch while he kneeled before her, but never crossed the line beyond that. Teasing him, keeping him on the edge, was what kept him loyal to her. When he looked at her she could see the devotion, the agony of anticipating being sent away from her. When she looked at him, however, she felt nothing.
Tom Riddle killed for her, tortured for her, and sacrificed everything he had in her name. She proudly gave him the dignity of sitting at her right side, prompting many jealous looks from other Death Eaters. When she tortured him, she relished seeing him in pain, knowing that it was justified due to the feelings he had for her. Certainly, he was charming and handsome, and he was completely devoted to her, but he had to know that he could not have her. No one would ever own Bellatrix Black.
Perhaps, had he been of a higher status when he first came to her, she might have given him more consideration. Had he been a pureblood, perhaps she would have looked at him more often. As it was, the emotion she felt the most for him was disdain- disdain that the liquid coursing through his veins was tainted black by his filthy muggle father. She recalled spilling it, once, and studying it closely to see if she could spot flecks of dirt in it.
There had been one occasion… she stirred slightly in the chair beside her pensive, absentmindedly sifting through its contents while Nagini slithered up behind her. Bellatrix stared down as the memory surfaced, as though her subconscious had commanded it to come forth. There they were, standing in the very same room, with Tom kneeling before her.
"My Lady," he breathed, his deep voice usually enough to make any woman swoon upon hearing it. She was not affected.
"Have you done it?" she questioned, her voice cold and devoid of emotion. He nodded swiftly, lifting his gray eyes to meet her black ones. He had indeed; there it was, the memory of him erasing Dorcas Meadowes from existence, and gaining valuable information on that prophecy. She felt her blood boil and writhe at the thought of it- imagine, a boy would be born who would be capable of destroying her, the Dark Lady. It was almost laughable, in a way.
Something else surfaced in his thoughts, and she laughed a mad, high pitched cackle.
"You aren't still on about that, are you?" she sneered, fingering her wand and debating on whether or not she should Cruciate him. It was tempting…
He made a tremendous effort and managed to bury the thought, causing her to nod in approval. She had been with men before, but only when she was in a particularly celebratory mood, which occurred rarely these days. The idea of lying with a half-blood, however, made her stomach heave. Hiding a cough, she turned away, unable to look at him, feeling disgusted.
"Stand up," she snapped, irritation bleeding into her voice. He did so at once, standing tall and proud. Suddenly, she wanted him to be hunched over, and to have his eyes cast downwards. Only purebloods had the right to look self-righteous. His eyes followed her as she slowly paced the study, tapping her chin with her wand.
It happened entirely on accident. It had to have been that- an accident.
She had just circled around when an abrupt desire grabbed her; viciously she pressed her lips into his, noticing him stiffen in shock at her forwardness. It didn't take him long to react. He was a man, after all, and soon his arms were around her waist, and his mouth molded carefully into hers. She breathed him in, her head growing fuzzy with delight at the way his tongue explored her mouth; he inhaled the air from her lungs, pulling it out forcefully and making her think she was drowning. She did the same, and the process continued until it suddenly it dawned on her what she was doing.
Bellatrix threw him from her, not even wincing when he crashed into the closed door, hand rising to his mouth in shock while his eyes shone weakly with the need for more. Her innards were rolling and tossing inside her, and she felt bile rise in her throat. Vomit forced its way up her esophagus, painting the floor in front of her and causing Nagini to hiss in annoyance.
Silently, she cast a charm to clean it up, before more inevitably followed. Tom watched in shock while she emptied the contents of her stomach, eyes widened in shock at what had just happened. Nagini reprimanded her while she convulsed from the sick, and she felt the need to wash out her mouth with soap.
A half-blood. She had kissed a half-blood. She had never felt so ill before.
Shakily, she raised her wand at him.
"Crucio!"
No one but her could hear his screams. A sadistic smile graced her face.
Later, when she bathed, she would scrub and scrub at herself, but the feeling of dirt would not cease.
Bellatrix looked away from the pensive, from that particular recollection. It was not something to be dwelled on; soon, she would depart to kill the boy. Harry Potter would die, and then she would ascend to her rightful place.
Tom Riddle: faithful. Powerful. Talented. Handsome. Trusted. Filthy. Utterly naïve and foolish.
And above all, her most loyal follower.