Chapter 2: The Nonconformists

When entering the Slytherin common room, one would see many things. They'd see the luxurious green sofa with their silver thread lined pillows; they'd see the usual chattering girls fixing their make up and gossiping; they'd see a fight either in the making or just over with unless you were lucky in which case you'd enter right on time to see some hexes flying.

It's quite the place, the common room. Always something different going on.

However, one thing you would not see is Bellatrix Black lounging by herself on the couch in the middle of the day while everyone else was at Hogsmeade. That was unless you happen to enter the common room on this particular day.

Bellatrix was one of Slytherin's finest no doubt, full of vitality and zeal. Her reputation of being wild and untamable preceded her. With a reputation such as hers one would think she'd be ashamed as any normal girl would but Bellatrix was no normal girl. She was a Black, therefore she was far higher than any normal girl.

She took pleasure in making a scene, in making it so that all eyes were on her as she relished being in the spotlight. Whether it be wearing a blood red dress to black and white ball or threatening the lives of half the male population at Hogwarts or openly setting someone's hair on fire, she made sure the normal girls' antics would never come close to anything she ever did.

She detested that word: normal. To her, it was a disgusting word that deserved to be thrown into the fireplace along with her homework. Deserved to be thrown to the dogs along with he who goes by the name of Rodolphus Lestrange.

He was the reason she was lying on the couch rather than carousing in Hogsmeade with her sisters. Because of him, she doubted her extraordinary self, her different, unique, far from normal individuality. Because of him, she was like all those normal girls who developed crushes and feelings of—Salazar forbid— fondness.

Those normal girls were the ones who were supposed to doodle his name in their notebooks, they were the fools who were to imagine dancing side by side with him in matching red outfits. Them. Certainly not hard as nails, cruel as can be, Bellatrix Black.

Sitting up on the couch, Bellatrix scowled to herself. It's all his fault, she thought bitterly. I should just kill him and be done with it.

As though asking for an early death, right on cue, Rodolphus Lestrange entered the common room and by habit, immediately headed over to the murderous vixen with his huge reckless grin plastered on his tan face.

"Oh, Bella, Darling, I was wondering where you were," he said brightly, sitting down next to her as if he was invited to.

Now, anyone else in Rodolphus's position would have fled for the life screaming from the lethal look on Bella's face. She was positively seething at him simply for his mere presence but he seemed oblivious of it, that grin that she decided she didn't loath as much as she had originally never fading.

"When I ordered you not to call me darling or Bella or speak to me for that matter, I meant it, Lestrange," she spat, subconsciously bring her long black hair behind her ears, hoping to look presentable.

"Right, right, must have slipped my mind," he muttered, quickly changing the subject. "I've been looking for you for the past hour, you know. You could have told me you were staying here, I would have kept you company."

Bellatrix scowled. "I said not to talk to me, remember? Or is your diminutive mind just covered in grease and it slipped again?"

"Now, Bella, it's rude to change topic so abruptly," he said nonchalantly, checking his nails as if he took no notice to the hostility in Bellatrix's voice.

Scowling was something Bella did a lot around Rodolphus but like many of the negative aspects of Bellatrix, Rodolphus took no notice of it or if he did he simply didn't care. When she scowled, he smiled, when she glared, he grinned, when she threw a chair at him, he threw out words of affection. By no means did he grow tired of it however.

Bellatrix almost admired his determination. Through rumors of her promiscuousness, of her hatred to all things to that move, of her wild, attention seeking tendencies, he had never strayed faithfulness in the least bit. It was quite sad really. Bellatrix certainly did not want a man who had nothing better to do with his time than stalk her.

"Staring are we?"

Bellatrix composed herself enough so she didn't gasp aloud at her thoughts being interrupted and managed to smirk cruelly. "Why yes. Staring at how hideous that mop on your head is. Honestly, Lestrange, you're rivaling Severus in grease capacity."

It was his turn to scowl while Bellatrix maintained her smirk.

"Oh is that right, Bella, darling? Well… well I'd like to say that you have lovely hair!" he said confidently as if his compliment was one of the worst insults one could ever administer.

She sneered. "You're mad."

"Something like that," he said, smirking at her. "You also have beautiful eyes."

Bellatrix rolled her "beautiful eyes", getting up. "Sod off."

Bellatrix normally thrived off compliments but when it came to accepting one from the likes of Rodolphus Lestrange who rose off the couch after her, she refused to show any care at all. He was like any other man throwing out a line. One thing he forgot was that Bellatrix was no fish.

"Where are you headed?" he asked, still behind her as she crossed the common room.

"Away from here."

"Great, I'll be happy to join you."

She stopped her walking, turning around to face him with her wand to his chest. "I'm getting sick of this, Lestrange," she said with a glare. "One more move toward me and I'll curse you until your screams of agony are echoing off every single wall of the castle."

There was a pause in which Rodolphus let out a grin and Bellatrix's glare increased by a dozen notches.

"Did you know when you're angry you're all angry and seething you get this dimple on your cheek?"

There was another pause in which Rodolphus admired Bellatrix's facial features and Bellatrix put down her wand and questioned the man's sanity.

"So am I going to be screaming in agony soon?" he asked innocently. "I don't want to be late for dinner; they're severing mashed potatoes."

To this day Bellatrix denies that she ever even cracked a smile though when the third years entered the common room, they specifically reported seeing Bellatrix Black in a heap on the floor laughing so hard that they were surprised she was breathing. To this day, Rodolphus denies that he ever said anything to her though the third years also claimed that he was staring at her looking quite affronted as she laughed waiting until after she was done only to send her into another laughing frenzy by asking: "Do you not like mashed potatoes?"

Whatever happened after that was not ever verified but Bellatrix never worried about loosing her individuality again. She realized that the thing about mundane, boring, normal girls who wore white regulation dresses genuinely fell in love with those mundane, boring normal boys who wore black regulation tuxedoes.

Rodolphus Lestrange was not mundane, not boring and certainly not normal. He was the dark crimson tux to her blood red dress.


Author's Note: Finally, I know x) There they are, the first couple. :D More to come and hopefully some other fics with it.