A/N: Hey all! I've been an avid reader of Bellatrix fics for...forever, and finally decided to post my own...hopefully someone will like it!
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, Bellatrix wouldn't have died. =(
Her voice in his ear is a deadly purr.
"Don't you want power, Barty? Don't you secretly yearn for a real sense of purpose in your life?"
He swallows the nervous lump in his throat. He isn't sure which is more distracting-the breathy tone in which she speaks, or the feeling of her body just lightly pressed up against his back.
"And what if I did?"
His voice quivers, just that tiniest bit, but enough. Enough for her to chuckle maliciously, to run her fingers through his hair as though he were nought but a toy for her amusement. In all probability, he supposes he is.
"Oh Barty...Barty, Barty, Barty."
His name rolls off her tongue in waves, sending sudden chills of pleasure down his spine.
"Are you sure you want this, little boy? There's no going back, you know. Traitors are always dealt with...one way or another."
He feels, rather than sees, her lick her lips.
"I want this."
His voice is stronger now, his mind more determined. No longer will he remain stifled in his father's shadow, playing happy families for political gain. He had heard many rumours of the man whose name everyone wished to speak, and rather than being fearful, he had been intrigued. The notion of fighting against everything his father stood for had been equally pleasing, of course. Oh, how he hated that man...revenge would be sweet. Revenge, revenge, revenge.
Ironically enough, he had his father to thank for his new...connections. He had come home from the Ministry late one night, lamenting the sudden surge of Dark Magic, cursing names Barty had recognised as some of the most influential in society. He had heard names like Lestrange, Rosier, Malfoy, and Black; heard words like "charm...incidents...doesn't add up...influences of old families...dangerous...attacks...no proof, of course...rumours...He Who Must Not Be Named...worrisome." The words had imprinted themselves on his brain, and he went to bed satisfied that night, secretly relishing the day when he too might have a hand in such...strife, his father had called it.
Less than a week later, he had caught sight of her. Her dark hair had seemed to absorb the sunlight, trapping it within the refines of her wild curls. A too-tight, too-short dress clinging to the curves of an all too dangerous beauty. Even the way she moved had mesmerised him-striding purposefully with head held high, even as she walked into Knockturn Alley, into the seedy underbelly of Wizarding London. She had emanated power, conviction, and most of all, fire. Fire, fire, fire. Greatness, surely, she is on the path to greatness.
As though she had sensed eyes upon her, she suddenly turned, tilting her flawless face in his direction. Brown locked with glittering black and he thought he was drowning, surely he would drown in her perfection. Drown, drown, drown. She beckoned him to follow with a knowing smirk, and Merlin help him, he didn't try to swim.
"I want this" he repeats, turning to face her fully for the first time.
He feels her probe his mind then, toss through his memories with ease. Amusement dances in her eyes, as well as something he can't quite place...triumph, perhaps? A sense of pride?
"Very well, Barty...you shall have your chance...I will bring you to Him."
She smiles then, a genuine, indulgent smile, and he knows he has made the right choice. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, he had known she would lead him to greatness.
A/N: Should I continue? Reviews are much appreciated =)
