Chapter Seven
They walked into a small grove of trees in the back of the garden. There was a bench underneath the trees, and Bellatrix sat on it. Rodolphus crowded next to her. His leg brushed her dress as he situated herself. Bellatrix tried to repress her disgust at his contact.
"You are very beautiful," he told her. He smiled and Bellatrix saw that he had bad teeth, yellow and crooked. "What may I call you? Do you have any nicknames?"
Yes.
"No, not really," she lied. She didn't like the thought of this boy addressing her in a familiar manner.
"Hmm…" Rodolphus said thoughtfully, looking upwards. He still hadn't let go of her arm. "What are some good nicknames for Bellatrix?"
Please stop.
"How about Bella? Can I call you that? It means 'beautiful' in Italian, you know."
"Yes, I know," she said mechanically.
Fitting, for you.
She pushed her Master's words out of her mind. She would scream if she thought of him any more, with this boy's sweaty hands clinging to her arm.
"No, don't call me Bella. I like the name that my parents gave me perfectly well. 'Bellatrix' will do," she told Rodolphus.
"Very well, Bellatrix," he said, smiling again. Bellatrix averted her eyes so as not to look on his horrid teeth again. His breath stank, too. She could smell it now that he was so close to her.
Breathe, she told herself. Remember your duty.
She pictured the Dark Lord in her mind. She could almost pretend that he was the one sitting next to her. She could see his every feature so clearly in her mind. Her reverie brought a tenderness, a soft sweetness to her face that made Rodolphus inhale sharply.
Remember your duty. She faced Rodolphus and gave him a radiant smile.
"My, Mr. Lestrange, won't you tell me about France? I have never been there, and I don't know a thing about it, but you seem so very smart."
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