Candied Tongue
"Beware the candied tongue that laps on royal boots, and through its sugary slime conceals the black heart."
The older students at Hogwarts waited anxiously for a month before the first Hogsmeade visit was announced. The third years, tasting freedom for the first time, made plans with each other to travel in small packs around the little village. They pressed the eldest students for details and advice—which stores to visit, which candies to avoid—and these students were only too happy to oblige.
Of course, none of the younger Slytherins would ever have dreamed of trying to engage the older ones in conversation. Most of them assumed that the sixth and seventh years had given up going to Hogsmeade, never having seen them there. This wasn't true; the sixth and seventh years had simply found other places to go that their fellows hadn't the knowledge (or the courage) to visit.
Bellatrix had left Rodolphus and Lucius to play chess in the common room. Narcissa had tried to follow her, claiming that she needed to do some shopping.
"Narcissa, I'm not going to tell you any more about it."
The blonde pouted. "You used to tell me everything. I said I was sorry for being disrespectful; can't you just tell me what you're planning?"
Bellatrix pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and looked back at her sister. "Cissy…" She sighed impatiently. "This is important to me. Maybe one day, it'll mean something to you, too."
"I just want to spend more time with you."
"Well," the dark-haired girl snapped, "today isn't the day for that, all right?" Spotting Alecto Carrow coming out of a nearby shop, she waved her over. "Alecto, take Narcissa with you. I need to get her out of my hair."
Alecto tried not to roll her eyes. "Of course." She took Narcissa's elbow and started pulling her up the street. "We'll see you later."
Bellatrix turned away, the chilly wind blowing her hair over her shoulder. Her boots clicked softly against the dusty road as she made her way around the corner and out of her sister's sight.
Here the road began to slope upwards slightly. The buildings were further apart; trees and bushes were few and far between. Bellatrix strolled gracefully up the street until she arrived at a building as dilapidated as its neighbours. The charred-looking door hung open on its hinges, flanked by grimy windows. A cracked wooden sign proclaiming "The Hog's Head" gave an unnatural creak as it swung in the breeze on its rusty chains. Bellatrix noticed that beneath the barely legible script on the sign was a faded painting of a boar's head, severed at the neck and dripping dark red blood. She glanced down at the doorknob and slid her black gloves elegantly onto her hands before pulling the door open.
She stood in a dark, musty room, where faint smoke and a foul stench that she didn't care to identify hung in the air. She quickly lifted the hood of her cloak over her head and found a booth in the corner furthest from the doors. The young bartender, someone she didn't recognize, caught her eye and did a double take; she winked and shook her head slowly.
As he turned away to continue cleaning glasses, she surveyed his back with some interest. His shoulders were not as broad as Rodolphus', but smaller and more muscular. His long dark hair would have hung to his shoulders, had it not been combed back neatly and tied with a thin black ribbon at the nape of his neck. She had barely noticed his face, but his eyes had been bright grey, almost silver.
"Shopping already, Bellatrix?"
She managed to control the jolt of surprise that ran through her chest and glanced calmly at the man who had taken the seat across the table from her.
"I can't believe Rodolphus is already tired of you," he added teasingly.
Bellatrix flashed him a smile. "On the contrary… I'll soon tire of Rodolphus."
The man laughed and pushed his messy black hair back from his forehead, revealing startlingly blue eyes. "You haven't changed a bit, Bellatrix."
She put a hand to her chest mockingly. "You wound me, Antonin. Are you suggesting that I toyed with men's hearts at the tender age of thirteen?"
Dolohov's eyes drifted to her chest and up the white curve of her neck. "You toyed with mine."
"You were seventeen." Bellatrix waved a hand indifferently. "What can I say? I was intrigued." Her eyes glittered as she pulled her hood closer about her cheeks. "But that's not why I'm here. I'm not so intrigued by you as I am by your—"
"Connections?" Dolohov grinned.
Bellatrix slowly pulled her glove from her hand and reached across the table, placing her right palm in his left. Her fingers traced up his wrist, stopping in the center of his forearm. Suddenly, she pressed a scarlet fingernail into the skin with all her might. "You might say that."
Dolohov wrenched his arm from her grip and bit back a cry, cradling his arm against his chest. "Bitch," he growled, just loud enough for her to hear.
Bellatrix smiled and lifted her hand into the air, catching the attention of the young man she had seen before. He moved to their table quickly, ignoring her companion, and looked into her eyes.
"Yes?" His voice was as smooth as the chocolate-coloured hair sweeping across his pale brow. Bellatrix saw something familiar in his profile, in the finely carved nose and strong chin; something, too, in the effortless way he moved.
She made no reply, enjoying how captivated he was, frozen by her gaze. It was the same adrenaline rush that she felt when the younger students were under her control, but this man was older than her by several years.
Dolohov broke the silence. "Two firewhiskeys, please." His voice was rough; his left arm was still curled in pain underneath the table.
"Isn't she a bit young, sir?" The young man looked at Bellatrix, trying to appraise the girl beneath the hood.
She smiled sweetly up at him. "That's none of your concern, is it?"
As the light finally caught her face, a flash of recognition seemed to cross his countenance. She saw the change but made no indication that she had noticed it.
"Two firewhiskeys, then," the young man said softly. He nodded once at Bellatrix and swept away from their booth.
Dolohov watched him until he was out of earshot, and then leaned forward conspiratorially. "I'll forger that little trick because you're young," he growled, "but I'm warning you now that you can't play games like that around him."
"Around whom?" she asked with faux innocence. "Can't you say his name?"
"It's not safe, even here. People aren't quite… receptive to his ideas yet."
Bellatrix tossed her head proudly. "I would be honoured to speak of the Dark Lord and carry out his plans."
Dolohov cast a hurried glance around the bar, but no one seemed to be listening. It was not a place that attracted idle ears; each little booth was too wrapped up in its own secrets to hear the secrets of others. He sighed. "I know you would be. And you'll get your chance. But he doesn't want students while they're still vulnerable to nosy Muggle-lovers like Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore," she scoffed. "He doesn't know half of what goes on under his skinny nose."
"He knows more than you think," her companion warned. "You and Lestrange are lucky to be getting your Marks at Christmas." He saw the look of glowing pride on her face. "Don't think it's because you're special; the younger students just listen to you two. You're useful, that's all."
"I can certainly be more useful than you," Bellatrix said acidly. "Be quiet; the drinks are coming."
A pale hand set a small, dusty glass in front of each of them. The young man poured a measure of a clear, slightly smoking liquid into each glass and straightened up. Bellatrix stared at Dolohov as if waiting for the obvious; he reached into his robes and tossed a few coins on the table, exhaling loudly. The man pocketed them swiftly and turned away.
Like Dolohov, she waited for the man to leave before continuing. "I don't expect to rise through the ranks the day I get my Mark," she said softly, "but I know that it will happen. I believe in the Dark Lord's ideas. I've seen the way bad blood can corrupt our world, and I want to end it." She closed her eyes briefly, and a vision of her youngest sister burned against her eyelids. When she opened them again, he was staring at her with a cruel smile twisted across his lips.
"You're more determined than many I've seen," he mused, lifting his glass carefully between his thumb and forefinger. "I think you could be a real asset to him." He caught her eye over the rim of his glass, blue fixed on black. "Christmas, then?"
Bellatrix's breath caught in her throat, and her eyes narrowed as she lifted her own glass. "Christmas."
They tapped their glasses together gently across the table. Dolohov downed his shot in one gulp and wiped his hand over his mouth. Bellatrix let the alcohol pour slowly between her lips, searing her throat and warming her body as it burned. She felt the lingering heat rise to her head.
Dolohov stood. "You should get back to school," he said.
She followed suit, readjusting her cloak and fixing her hood securely around her face. He walked to the door with her, held it open so that she could step out before him, and let it fall shut.
"Say hello to Lestrange for me, won't you?" He grinned. "And tell him that Rabastan says hello as well."
She lifted her hand gracefully towards him; he raised it further and pressed his lips to the smooth ivory skin. "It was lovely seeing you again, Antonin."
"The pleasure was all mine," he returned. "Until Christmas?"
Bellatrix nodded and watched him move away up the street, his dark robe billowing around him in the wind. She ran a red-nailed finger over her lips, deep in thought as she watched his form recede in the distance. An imaginary prickle danced up her left forearm; she resisted the urge to look at the unblemished skin that would only make her angry.
"Only a few months," she whispered aloud.
As she made her way back down towards the village, she caught up with Alecto as she was heading back to Hogwarts. "Where's Cissy?"
"She was tired. She wanted to go back and see Lucius." Alecto looked up at the sky. "We should hurry. It looks like it might start raining soon."
Bellatrix quickened her pace slightly. "Was she asking questions?"
The other girl sighed and bit her lip. "She wanted to know if I knew what you were up to," she answered hesitantly, "and who else was involved?"
"And?"
"And I told her that it was none of her business." Alecto glanced over at her through her curtain of blonde hair. "But… are you and Lestrange really going to get your Marks soon?"
Bellatrix kept silent for a moment, and then said, "We are." She stopped in her tracks and faced Alecto. "Is there… a problem with that?" Her voice was cold.
"Of course not; you know I wouldn't object to anything you did." There was tension in her voice, as though she had to restrain something inside her. "But… Amycus didn't get his until he graduated, and I would have thought—"
"That the Dark Lord didn't care for students?" Bellatrix gave her a satisfied smile. "Well, it seems that he does. Rodolphus and I have enough potential that he wants us with him even before we leave school. That's how much the Dark Lord needs us."
Before Alecto had time to respond, Bellatrix turned around and strode towards the dark castle looming in the distance. The grey clouds gathering overhead cracked as a splinter of lightning shot down to earth. After a few minutes of unnatural heat, the rain began to fall.
-(This one took a little longer… I had a lot of stuff to do recently. The next update may also take a little while, as I have midterms next week, but we shall see. I'm glad I got to introduce these two; I have plans for them. Oh, do I have plans… Also, I should have mentioned this earlier—the repeated quotation is not mine, but I'll give mad street cred to anyone who guesses it. Thank you once again to all my reviewers, the one-timers and the loyal ones. I hope this installment was to your liking. Thanks for reading!)-
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