That evening, the Black Annual Christmastide Ball would take place. Stooped deeply in Black tradition, the Ball was attended by only the finest pureblood families by invitation of Cygnus Black and was held in a little-known luxury ballroom (200 galleons an hour hire fee) near Godric's Hollow. The decorations were always the most lavish, the dining most fine; everything that was expected to serve only the best.
Bellatrix Black was admiring her handiwork in hanging up a black banner which from two grandiose marble pillars hung, with the inscription, in grey curling letters, "Toujours Pur". The colour theme was, of course, a sinister yet elegant grey and black. Black velvet curtains adorned the huge glassy doors which opened up the enormous ballroom to a balcony overlooking a forest of shrubs and flowers which opened a small path around the "garden" (this was an understatement). Druella, Bellatrix's mother glanced skeptically at the banner and tilted her head.
"It's positioned wrongly." she said briskly, taking out her wand and muttering, "agito." The banner tilted ever so slightly to the right. Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Druella's eyes snapped back to Bellatrix, and narrowed in such a way as if daring Bellatrix to dare to say anything. Bellatrix looked away, and instead walked past her mother, eyes cast to the floor.
"Bellatrix." her mother said softly.
"Yes, mother?" she said stiffly.
"Go and put that black dress on that Twilfitt and Tatting's had tailored especially for you. It works well with your hair."
"Yes, mother." Bellatrix said with a hint of annoyance; she hated that dress; it was uncomfortable and made her feel womanly (therefore weaker, in her opinion).
"Do not speak with that ungrateful tone! You will wear the dress." her mother's voice rang through her ears.
Bellatrix turned on her heel towards the dressing room in which a corset-like silk black dress was floating in mid air, rotating on a hanger, obviously enchanted by her mother. By the mirror a large dressing table was covered in makeup and hair products. Narcissa, who was sitting down while a house elf, an old female, was struggling to stand on the dressing table (lack of space) to reach Narcissa's face to apply makeup. Her pink, rather 'puffy' dress enveloped Narcissa's thin body frame perfectly.
"Hello, Bella." Narcissa said absent-mindedly, busy with admiring her reflection.
"Beautiful, Cissy."
"You're getting changed?"
"Burgy!" Bellatrix shouted for her favourite house elf.
Burgy, a stout tight-faced pretty elf apparated and gave a respectful bow.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Help me dress and get ready for the ball."
Two hours later, with plenty of cursing and shouting on Bellatrix's and her mother's part, Bellatrix Black looked at her disgruntled, yet perfectly covered with expertly-applied makeup face in the mirror, and admired the dress which seemed to improve her bust size greatly and made her look dangerously attractive. For once in her life, Bellatrix, at age fifteen, felt powerful. She felt ready to steal all the boy's glances by simply lifting her chest, by flicking her powerful dark eyes at them, by playfully fingering a dark tendril that fell from her gracefully tied brunette locks.
She gave a quiet giggle, and linked arms with her sister.
"Wow, Bella, you look..."
Even Narcissa was speechless for a few seconds.
"...very enchanting."
"Thank you." said Bellatrix with the slightest hint of a dark smile, and they swept into the ballroom. Narcissa let out a gasp. Huge ice statues of family members stared at guests through icy glassy eyes; black glowing flies flitted above guest's heads, the sound of gentle chattering and background classical music; long banquet tables crammed with luscious food that filled Bellatrix's nostrils.
While Narcissa stood stock-still admiring the beauty of the ballroom, Bellatrix only slightly fazed, headed straight for the banquet tables and took a silver plate (of course embellished with the Black family crest) and took some black pudding. Her eyes greedily stared at the pudding and she took a fork and was about to take a generous piece from her slice, ready to shove the forkload into her mouth and eat like a pig, forget all her etiquette lessons and mannerisms that her mother had drilled into her. She sighed, cleared most of her plate into the nearby sinister-looking plant (the food was promptly swallowed up by the soil) and took a dainty bite from the little amount she had on her fork.
She was getting sick and tired of being polite. She had never wanted to be a socialite like her mother; this was one of the only balls she agreed (grudgingly) to go to, only because it was stooped in pureblood tradition. Bellatrix Black valued bloodlines as much as her family did, and she did enjoy meeting some of the other pureblood families. The Malfoys were, as always, the dark, mischievous young boys as she had always expected (school was in this way, a benefit, even if she despised the school) and the Lestranges were also fun. She even had a little 'club' with most of them; however, this was, at present, a whispered topic that was encouraged by parents but very discreetly. This group was led by Tom Riddle, a mysterious but devilishly handsome and clever Slytherin (there were even rumours of him being heir of Slytherin?) and consisted of many purebloods, including herself, Malfoy, Avery, Nott, and many others. She smiled to herself while thinking of their plans. Oh, how powerful they would become.