Look at Me

Bellatrix Black was beautiful, as befitted pureblood heiress. She had a reputation of being graceful, thoughtful and intimidating. She was good at not getting caught. But despite the fact that she could out hex them, many of the young men were fascinated by her. The slight sway in her walk, the hooded eyes, the curve of her lips…they were entranced. They fought among themselves to get near her. They stabbed each other in the back to have a chance to talk to her. Anything she said, they agreed with. Any whim that occurred to her, they would carry out. She would kiss this one, press closer to that one, whisper a promise to another.

She liked the attention. It made her feel special, something that she didn't get at home, not when she was one of three girls. She was the oldest, but that didn't matter in the same way as it did for boys. So with all these handsome, soon to be powerful, young men falling over themselves to talk to her, it was no wonder it took her a long time to notice him.

It was at a party, celebrating the coming Christmas season. It was fancy dress, and her dress was made of layers and layers of peacock feathers. She had refused to wear a mask- she thought it was childish- and as she began her descent down the sweeping staircase, cast her gaze her over the glittering crowd. Several women were dressed as Marie Antoinette, complete with wide skirts, and were consequently knocking over the very men they were trying to impress, while the men looked suitably ridiculous as Georgian era courtiers or boring in their dress robes. As the eligible men turned to stare at the eldest Black making her entrance, she allowed a self-satisfied smile to creep across her face. It quickly disappeared when she realised it was the same people as at every other ball. It wasn't that these men weren't fun, but they weren't interesting. She was beginning to turn her nose up at the selection of men that the pureblood community provided. If the idea wasn't so repulsive, she would have turned to the half breeds and mudbloods. Then she spotted him. A lone figure in a plain black suit, checking his cufflinks. He wasn't in fancy dress. He stood out. He looked…interesting. Her eyes flashed as she decided on a plan of action that involved ignoring him even if he begged her to talk to him. She smiled inwardly, as she reached the clamouring hoard of men waiting for her, holding their breath for her.

"Bella, you look wonderful." "That dress…" "May I have this dance?"

She preened and pouted, and generally made sure that her followers were still in love with her. Then she realised he hadn't come over. He hadn't made a move. He was watching the dancers twirling. She frowned slightly, before taking the hand of the nearest boy, almost dragging him into a waltz.

"I'm so… honoured that you picked me," he stammered, as they became to glide around the dance floor

"Well, why wouldn't I?" she purred, her eyes fixated on the one in the suit. "You're pureblood, you flattered me, and you're almost a little handsome".

"I…I…bu…" She could feel the blush radiating off him, while she watched the interesting one. He still hadn't looked at her. He was turning now, to listen to some girl in a milkmaid costume. He laughed, his face lightening for a moment, before falling into attractive repose. The girl was touching him on the arm, she was flirting with him, how dare she? How dare she touch him? But wait, he was shaking his head regretfully; she was walking away. He had rejected the other girl, but still he did not look at herself. It was infuriating.

"Don't you think?" She realised too late that the boy in whose arms she was had been speaking. She smiled, blinding him.

"I'm sorry. My mother is beckoning me." Without an apology, she disentangled herself, leaving him alone in the middle of the hall. She stalked to the side. The man in the suit was leaning against a column, on this side of the hall. She could walk up behind him, watching him the entire time. If he searched for her in the crowd, she would see.

As she got closer and closer, she realised he was not looking for her. He was not disturbed at all that she had disappeared from the floor. She was nearly directly behind him when she asked, "why aren't you looking at me?"

"Ah, Bellatrix Black." He still did not turn, but kept his back to her. His voice was honey over rocks, smooth yet somehow harsh.

"Well?" She allowed a little of her rage to creep into her voice. "Why are you not looking at me?"

"Because I choose not to."

Her mouth fell open at his cheek. How dare he not want to look at her? How dare he not be infatuated with her? "Why not?" She knew it was an infantile question, but it slipped out.

"There are better things to feast my eyes on."

She grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him round. "How can you say that?"

He shot her disdainful look before turning away once more. "There are better uses of time than explaining to you the intricacies of the voice box."

She wasn't stupid. She knew he was insulting her by twisting her words, but she had never met anyone who would have dared do such a thing, and as such, was speechless.

"Well, well, Bellatrix Black lost for words. I hear that's not an everyday occurrence."

"Stop calling me by my full name," she snapped, restraining herself from stamping her foot.

"Are you getting angry little one? Are you going to tell your father on me?" His drawl covered her like treacle, even though he was still watching the dancers and not her.

"I'm not little. You can't be much older than me, if at all," she retaliated.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to watch the waltz." He seemed to sniff, as though she were a small child trying to show him the latest ballet move she had learnt. "And you're rather spoiling it for me."

She glared at his back, hoping to burn holes through his suit jacket. "I want you to look at me."

"Oh you do?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice. "And tell me, do you always get what you want?"

"Always." Her tone was one of pride, because it was true.

"Then I'm afraid you're going to be very disappointed." He flicked a speck of dust from what she presumed was the lapel of his jacket, and made as if to move away.

"No." She grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

He was finally looking at her, and now she had a chance to study his features up close. His mouth was curled into a sarcastic smile, and his dark eyes were glinting dangerously. His hair was perfect, not a strand out of place, but his left eyebrow was divided by a small scar. "You're beginning to irritate me little girl."

She didn't care. All that mattered was that he was finally looking at her. She pouted. "I do hate to upset guests."

"That is not the impression I am getting," he snarled. "Now that I have looked at you, as you demanded, may I go? Or do you have some other unreasonable requests?"

She spoke without thinking. "Kiss me."

He laughed derisively. "You must be joking. If I didn't choose to look at you, why on earth would I kiss you?" He looked her up and down again. "Besides, you've probably never been kissed before. I will not have your father accuse me of defiling you."

Her mouth fell open again. No-one, but no-one, had ever spoken to her like that before. Not ever. Then she glared at him, and took him by the hand, dragging him into one of the anterooms.

She pushed him against the door, even as it was still closing, her lips gentle on his at first, but becoming more insistent. To her surprise, he pulled her closer, kissing her so hard she thought he would draw blood. Then he pulled away slightly, before biting her lip almost gently. The bruised skin tore almost instantly, and she swore as the blood welled up. She pulled away, pressing her fingers to her lips, looking quizzically at the blood left on her fingertips.

He shrugged. "This is the way it works. You want me to look at you, you pay the price. If it scares you, I would leave now."

She shook her head, as she walked him back against the door. "I'm never going anywhere else, ever again."

Fin.