A/N: Attitude croisée is a pretty ballet pose and it's also a name of a figure skating spin position. This chapter ties up loose ends in my other fics, where I cover Rita and Bella's close friendship in their early years. Rita cares more about Bella than Bella cares to hear, and we find out that Bella has some serious misunderstandings. As JKR says, with young love, we "fill in the blanks in the beloved's personality with the virtues we would like them to have".
Chapter 7: Attitude
"I don't understand it. You'd bend over backwards…"
"…or forwards…"
"…both ways for him!" exclaimed Rita, whose annoyance was now being aggravated by the interruption. Once upon a time, this finishing-off others' sentences had been something they had laughed about, cross-legged in the Slytherin girls' dormitory.
But today, Bella had been contentedly sitting beneath the shadiest tree in their front yard when Rita had shown up with a pop. Rita had not had very much to do in the aftermath of the NEWTs and leaving Hogwarts, in contrast to Bella, who had been out virtually every night to meetings of the Inner Circle, of which she was the youngest member. Not wanting to divulge any more details of her life to her former schoolmate, Bella had reached up with both her arms, grasping the branch above her head, preparing to bend her knees and swing her legs over and out of the way. But Rita had cried out, "Hey, Bella, you can talk about anything you want today, but I just want to talk to you!" and plopped herself on one of the tree's twisted roots.
So at the moment, Bella was poised in that uncomfortable position, having a rather heated discussion with a nosy girl who desperately wanted to revive the friendship that had faded in the post-OWL years now that "academic competitiveness was no longer an issue".
Bella now sighed. "That's what you do when you love someone."
The words had slipped out of her mouth before she had realised it.
Rita's eyes grew wide, and her screeching voice displayed nothing but horror. "You love…HIM? Bella, he's twenty-four years older than you!"
Well, to be entirely honest, she had had some idea of the sensational response it might evoke in Rita, and had been pondering the prospect of letting it out for some time. Bella ran a hand casually through the curls atop her forehead. "So what? My grandparents…"
"There is a difference between, say, fifteen years between our grandparents, and – and –" Rita spluttered.
"You always did look so amusing when you were flustered," muttered Bella. Fortunately, the other girl did not hear her.
"– And – twenty-four years between yourself and HIM!"
Bella stretched her palms out again. "I don't care! Love conquers all, isn't that what they say? Anyway, it's not like he's already married, or has children older than me…it's not against the law, because he's not technically a teacher…"
She had not been able to pinpoint the exact moment she had realised she was in love with the Dark Lord; part of her considered it that fateful fifth-year night he had come to seek her and test the waters. But most of the time she savoured the wintry night last year when he had stood behind her, breathing upon her cheek, his right arm entwined with hers as he had demonstrated the correct wand movements for the Cruciatus Curse, praising her profusely. She'd been a reasonably good student at school, but under his tutelage, she'd flourished. He was the best teacher she had ever known…
Rita rose and stared despairingly at Bella. "But, he's mad…"
"…how dare you…"
"…probably a rapist or something…"
"You just say that because you haven't met him. He's wonderful, Rita. He's charming – chivalrous even – he has this kind of old-fashioned charisma to him. Did you ever meet anyone at Hogwarts who –"
"Ch, ch, ch," said Rita. "Charm, chivalry, charisma. That doesn't make him a saint. Far from it, in fact, if what I've been reading in the Prophet, the Herald, Time Turner, Which Wizard…then…oh well, what else do you know about him?"
"He's Slytherin's last descendant – does that not amaze you? Oh, I forgot, you're the materialistic one. Well, he is the most intelligent person I've ever known – did you know, he's invented nearly a hundred of his own incantations! All despite the fact that he's an orphan, and he grew up in impoverished surroundings…"
Bella's grip tightened on the rough branch above her. "He's so passionate about everything he believes in – and he what he believes in, he believes with his entire soul. He'd do anything for our cause, if he thought it would make the Wizarding World a better place. He would die if he had to. And he just understands everything. I've never met anyone who understood…"
When Rita finally spoke again, she did so far more gently. "Did you hear me, Bella? How do you know he's not a rapist or something?"
"Well, finding out won't kill me."
She didn't think she would mind if The Dark Lord decided to ravish her one night on the dining table when she had chosen to linger after a Meeting of the Death Eaters of the Inner Circle. She'd already choreographed it in her dreams and in her mind: long white fingertips in the small of her back, and hot lips on hers, and...
"Bella, do you even hear yourself? Don't you understand – that what you have is something special? That once it's lost, you can't ever get back?"
Bella was tempted to spit back at her, "Like you can talk, you who slept with every boy whose family's yearly income had six or more digits to it…"
"Those things don't matter," Bella said, fingering the wand in her pocket. "The world is changing. In the future, other things will be important, like…"
"…I know. I know. Your purity-of-blood and all that rot." Rita was a pureblood, but social status to her was measured in galleons.
Bella whipped out her wand and pointed it at the blonde girl's throat. "Say that again."
Rita glared, raising her voice. "Your purity of blood. And all that rot."
"I dare you."
"All – that – rot – which your precious little Dark Lord preaches to you."
"Incendio," thought Bella. The spell burst out of her and a small ring of flames erupted from her wand, singeing a hole in Rita's sleeve.
"I don't understand you," said Rita. "You don't understand what you're losing."
"I don't understand you either," said Bella. "You have an attitude problem – you refuse to see how dangerous your thinking is. It'll get you into far more trouble than a singed shirt. I was playing nice."
"But Bella…"
"Get lost."
"If you want to play nice, then I'll give you a run for your non-verbal magic. I'll show you what words can do."
"I don't care," said Bella, jumping up into the tree and looking down upon Rita, the only ex-classmate she had been in contact with since leaving Hogwarts apart from her fellow Death Eaters. "If you don't like what I do, then just go to hell and burn there."
Bella lifted her head to the warm summer breeze, imagining his breath on her face.
"Tom..."
Although she never failed to address him formally as "my lord" to his face, in her head she called him "Tom" - it was secret, and special.
"Tom...hold me..."
It was a single, yet beautiful word she could whisper while lying in bed, whether as a prayer before going to sleep, or in the throes of passion.
"I love you...Tom..."
A/N: Thank you to Cuban Sombrero Gal, Nulinya, Schermionie, Syndic-Machiavelli, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, lyssy31 and respitechristopher who list DM as one of their favourites! Thanks must also go to Lexie-H for adding me to the wonderful Reviews Lounge C2!