-xx-
Tom immediately recognizes the quaint stone cottage from a handful of Potter's more domestic dreams, the only real difference being the overgrown state of the ivy scaling the façade and hedges that line the yard. It's just before dusk and the village itself is quiet as he lets himself in through the small wooden gate, Nagini shifting on his shoulders for a better look.
"Where is she?" Nagini demands, as though this is all some elaborate set up to get back at her for the constant pestering about when she'll next see Potter.
It's not the worst idea in the world, come to think of it.
But there's no need to answer, because Potter swings the door open as soon as he arrives at the front step.
"I heard you Apparate," she smiles up at him and then Nagini, though the expression seems to lack its usual perkiness. "It's lovely to see you, Nagini," she promptly switches to Parseltongue and leans toward him to pat the snake on the head, which instantly triggers that familiar prickle in the back of his mind.
"And you, Potter girl," Nagini hisses back.
"Come on in," Potter flicks her wand to close the door behind him and leads them to the left through a modest kitchen with mosaic tiles and white cabinets. "What have you been up to, Nagini?"
At the same time he notices her voice straining to sound casual, he senses her unease and the magnitude of her thoughts without even meaning to. Clearly, whatever happened today is weighing considerably on her; she hasn't seemed so obviously shaken since that late night she arrived in his office and confessed her belief that she as responsible for her parents' deaths.
As ironic as that was.
"Hunting and sleeping," Nagini hisses back, "Sometimes, Master Tom lets me help with his experiments…"
He grits his teeth and bats the snake on the head, giving her a warning glare out of the corner of his eye.
"What sort of experiments?" Potter asks over her shoulder.
"For a paper I'm working on," he invents on the spot.
"Sounds interesting." She doesn't even seem to be listening that carefully anyway as they arrive in a den with a wraparound sofa and a bookshelf containing a rather sizable collection on potions and herbology, judging by a quick skim of the titles.
"My mum's," she follows his gaze while falling onto the sofa next to a steaming mug of tea. "Feel free to borrow any you haven't read."
A tempting offer, but finding a new book or two is far from the top of his priority list at the moment. "How was your visit to the Ministry?" He deposits Nagini on the couch and she promptly slithers over to Potter for a long-awaited spine massage.
Admittedly, he was rather impressed that she had come up with the plan to shift her Apparition test date to today, providing the Department a perfect opportunity to show some of their hand. He's been eagerly awaiting her tale all day, in fact…
"Well, it was certainly informative," she laughs darkly under her breath and gives him a long, thoughtful look before gesturing for him to sit across from her on the grey ottoman near the sofa, "Legilimency?"
Well, he's certainly not going to argue with that offer.
As he settles in opposite her, Nagini sprawls over her legs and hisses happily, "You're much warmer than he is."
It's probably true, especially if her touch affects Nagini in the same way it does him, but he can't help rolling his eyes as Potter sends him a triumphant smirk. But it fades a moment and he can sense her anxious tension as she sits up and reaches for his hands, placing them on either side of her face, just above her temples.
This is nothing new, but feels a bit disconcerting nonetheless given her lack of hesitancy to touch him and the sensations that come along with it, both in his fingertips and the back of his mind… And even more so when he remembers the reason for her lack of hesitancy. The same reason, perhaps, that her knee carelessly brushes his when she sits up and that she smells suspiciously pleasant of– if he had to guess– lavender.
It's a small wonder he hadn't noticed her little crush on him sooner.
"Well," her eyes fall onto his, "Let's give this a try, then."
He isn't sure what she means by 'trying', because he's successfully used Legilimency on her dozens of times, but he wastes no time contemplating it as he slips easily into her mind.
'You said I would get answers…I'm listening.'
'Let me start from the beginning.'
The scene unfurls, featuring Potter standing in the middle of a familiar, cramped office while Regulus opens his mouth to speak.
'As you know by now, your parents were Unspeakables. More specifically, they worked in the field with foreign leaders to negotiate the Department's international investigations – among other duties, of course –'
"It works," her green eyes are wide as she jerks away from him and inhales sharply. "But…how?"
He gives her a questioning look and though she still looks a bit stunned, she resolutely presses his hands back to her face. "You'll see."
With no further explanation, he falls back into the memory and listens to Regulus' explanation of her parents' roles in the Department and the Memory Space in fascination.
'Now, the crucially important bit is that the Memory Space relies on Soul magic to create a deep bond between Unspeakables and the Department.'
Soul magic – of course. He's assumed such for a while, but this is the first time that the implications truly strike him.
'Your parents joined and signed their souls normally, but you weren't even born yet…and even if you were, your magic wouldn't have been powerful enough to create such a bond.'
But perhaps her magic was predisposed to soul bonding because of that temporary Memory Space the Department designed for her. Perhaps, when the Potter's stumbled across his Horcrux last summer, her bonding to it was a spontaneous reaction just waiting to happen.
The scene shifts to the memory Regulus gave back to her to prove the existence of the lock on her Memory Space. It's a bit surreal to witness this memory within a memory, and in such vivid form – it's nothing like the haze that surrounds her dreams.
And just as surreal is witnessing yet another instance of Potter and his old protégé acting so amiably. It irks him for some reason. But maybe the only reason for it is because the memory doesn't exactly provide any new information – save for the fact that the Department apparently tracks magical activity and that Potter could already Apparate.
At twelve, apparently. Soon, nothing will surprise him any longer.
'Now for the bad news, Halia...and I'm really, really sorry about this, but I have to run a couple of tests on you.'
Never mind.
He just catches a glimpse of a brilliant blue pool when Potter twitches against his fingertips, the steady stream of memory turning into choppy flashes. For the very first time, he feels her mind pressing back against his to resist the memory as he triggers it to play forward.
She abruptly pulls away from him again, her eyes flickering down toward Nagini who is still sprawled across her lap like a housecat. "Sorry," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I guess...I'd rather not relive it so soon."
Despite his curiosity and the irritation that comes from her hesitation, it's clear that it would be imprudent to press her on something she would probably end up having a dream about anyway.
"Basically," she continues while rubbing the center of her forehead, "It was a test to see if there were any breaches in my Memory Space. And Regulus…well, he didn't find any. He told me that it's fully operational and that it should keep me from revealing any sensitive information to anyone." She glances up at him with a curious expression. "But how is that possible? How can I tell you? And why didn't he detect that, or the fact that I'm regaining my memories?"
Well thank Salazar they hadn't detected Potter's bond with him – that would have been disastrous. And that meant one of two things: either Regulus botched the tests or their bond is even stronger than he previously thought. Intuition mixed with pride tells him it must be the latter, though there's no way to be sure until he can examine her memory of the test himself.
And regardless, there's no need to fill in blanks for her that he would prefer to leave empty. "That is certainly curious," he says slowly while studying her face. "But I couldn't begin to theorize…as you well know by now, Miss Potter, the mind is extremely intricate. There could be thousands of potential explanations for such an effect."
"I guess," Potter signs and Nagini rests her head in the crook of her elbow. "Maybe I'll test it by trying to tell Sirius something about the Department since Regulus told me he isn't supposed to know anything...To be honest, I don't really care why there's a breach as long as there is one...it could mean that I wouldn't have to join the Department after all..." She says this mostly to herself, but it catches his attention immediately.
"What do you mean?" he asks, leaning toward her slightly.
"After the tests, Regulus told me that they only way to regain all of my memories is to sign my soul to the Department after I graduate to become an Unspeakable and gain a full Memory Space. And if I don't sign, they're going to erase everything," Potter tilts her head to the side, "But if I have a breach they can't detect – if I still have access to those memories, what if that means I don't have to sign? What if they couldn't actually erase it all?"
Maybe there's a chance of that. Maybe not. But it doesn't matter, really, because he's far more interested in the prospect of her becoming an Unspeakable. After all, while the information he's gained about the Department through her memories has been incredibly illuminating, it would pale in comparison to the potential benefit of her working there. If her soul's bond to his Horcrux proved strong enough, he could achieve what nobody thought possible and would have his very own spy immersed in the happenings of the Department of Mysteries.
Of course, this means convincing her that joining is her only real option – a task which shouldn't be all that difficult given the amount of trust she places in him already.
He forces his face into what he imagines to be a concerned expression. "Is that really a risk you'd be willing to take?"
"I don't know," she glances away with him and draws invisible circles on the arm of the sofa. "Maybe."
"And you find the prospect of becoming an Unspeakable unappealing?"
"Uh, yeah. A bit," she snorts and shakes her head while reaching for her cup of tea, "Especially if it's anything like today. It wasn't enough for them to take everything from me – now I'm just some experiment to them."
He folds his arms over his chest, "Well, research is their main objective…"
"–and they're just following protocol. I know," Potter interrupts with a sour expression. "I still think I hate them for it."
"Then you must hate Regulus Black as well, for his part in this," he presses, knowing that it will be a trigger point after witnessing her strong sense of guilt in the memory.
She opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. "I…Maybe. For all I know, everything he told me was a complete lie. What if they're just messing with my head to see how I react?"
"The memory he gave back to you certainly wasn't a lie," he eyes her pointedly, "Was it?"
He slips into her mind again, though far more carefully this time to avoid being detected and sees flashes of the memory on the forefront of her mind along with snippets of the conversation that followed:
'But what about me? We were friends, weren't we?'
For a reason he cannot place, the words leave a strange, metallic taste in his mouth.
She swallows and says slowly, as if trying to convince herself, "No. You're right…it was definitely real."
Her mind floods with a barrage of emotions again, a dark spiral that pulls her thoughts deeper, tangling them into a conflicted, indecipherable mess. It's then that he knows broaching the subject any further will be pointless at the moment because clearly, she won't be able to look at anything objectively. It's all too fresh, too painful.
So he would wait patiently until the right time to sway her decision – he couldn't afford a misstep that would sacrifice the rapport he's built with her now that this meant gaining his own personal spy amongst the Unspeakables. And in the meantime, he had plenty of research to do into how he might maintain their bond and ensure that it remains hidden when she finally does sign her soul to the Department.
"I can imagine that all of this is a lot to take in, Miss Potter…You should take time to process it before rushing into such an important decision – let's discuss this again when you have a clearer mind." The words are easy enough to formulate, but he knows there is more to playing the part of Comforting Professor/Mentor than this alone. Though it's all still a bit foreign, he follows an instinct to lean in and place a reassuring hand on her forearm which is curled around Nagini.
But instincts can be misleading, it seems, and he quickly withdraws as the prickle of their bond emits a surge of energy in the back of his mind.
"That's…erm," she clears her throat, glancing down at the spot on her arm where his hand rested moments before and then back up at him, her cheekbones tinged with pink, "…probably best. You're right, yeah. Wouldn't want to rush anything."
Well fuck,she hadto have felt that.
This is what he gets for pretending to be nice.
He stands calmly, takes a few long strides over to the bookshelf in the opposite corner of the room, and begins skimming the titles as though nothing happened. It's acting on instinct all over again, this time in hopes that putting some distance between them will dull the sensation of her bond to him back to its normal levels.
Normal. Since when did anything about their bond become normal?
"Are you finished with your human talk?" Nagini hisses impatiently.
He's never been so thankful for an interruption from her, not to mention one that provides him the perfect transition to leave–
"And does that mean we can go find the rats?" she adds.
"Rats?" he feels Potter's gaze shift from him to Nagini and, thankfully, the surge of energy in their bond begins to wane, "What rats?"
"Can't you hear them? Their little steps on the floor above?"
"I can't…But we can go upstairs if you'd like to look," he can hear the amusement in Potter's voice as she offers and sees Nagini slithering off her lap out of the corner of his eye.
"Yes, I would," Nagini hisses excitedly, gliding past him into the kitchen before he has a chance to argue, "I'm starving."
-xx-
"Well, how did it go?"
Regulus looks up incredulously; Bode actually had the nerve to show up in his office after what happened today?
Un-fucking-believable.
"How in the fuck do you think it went?" Regulus snaps and reaches for a cigarette out of habit, only to remember he already emptied his daily pack a couple of hours ago.
Bode stares back at him, his composure never once faltering. "I thought you were prepared for this mission, Black. Is this your way of saying that you failed to complete it?"
"No," he barks, though to him, the mission still felt like a failure. "Her Memory Space was fine – nothing out of the ordinary."
Bode blinks at him, "Then you should be pleased that we didn't need to detain her."
Staying furious was pointless – the emotionless bastard would never fucking get it.
Regulus exhales and rubs his eyes, "Do you honestly expect her to sign after all this shit?"
"She will. You know that."
Yeah, he does – the real issue is that he can't decide how he feels about it. Despite everything that joining would mean for her, she's so inextricably tied to this place that there's really no other alternative. After what he witnessed today, it's clear she'd be a shell of herself if they erased her memories.
It makes him sick, talking about this with Bode like she actually has any choice in the matter.
"Right. Well anyway, I'm going home," he pushes his chair away from his desk with a loud screech, "And I won't be in tomorrow, either."
Fortunately, Bode doesn't argue and everything feels a bit better when he makes it out of the Department for the evening. But he knows he can't just go home, either. He needs a distraction – something to keep him from moping around, staring at the wall for hours on end, which is precisely what he had been doing in his office ever since Halia left.
Under normal circumstances, he would unwind by having a few drinks with Rabastan. But Rabastan's been so bloody happy all week because of some deal he negotiated at Gringotts that spending the evening with him just sounds exhausting at this point.
No, what he needs is to be around someone having just as fucking miserable time of it as he is, if not more so. This is precisely why he finds himself strolling in the front door of his family's manor, where his mother and father insisted that Aunt Druella move into when she first fell ill – and with her came her youngest daughter.
Kreacher meets him in the foyer and gives a low, respectful bow in greeting. "Mistress Walburga will be pleased young Regulus is home. Kreacher will tell her now."
"Actually Kreacher," Regulus quickly holds up his hand, in no frame of mind to deal with his mother at the moment. "I'm here to fetch my dear cousin Bella." A smirk spreads across his face as he adds, "I think it's about time that we celebrate her engagement."
-xx-
"Are we getting closer?" Halia glances down at Nagini when they reach the top of the stairs.
"Yes, I can smell them now. But they are higher still, Potter girl."
She smirks. Potter girl. She's missed Nagini all summer but never realized quite how much until now. "Must be in the attic then," she waves her wand and a door slides open at the end of the hallway, a narrow flight of stairs unfolding downward from the opening. "Here – climb on my shoulders."
Halia kneels to allow Nagini to slither up her arm and the snake's weight almost makes her topple over. She tries to hide her sharp exhale as she hoists herself to her feet once more and starts upstairs, wondering how Tom makes this look so easy. Apparently, he's stronger than he looks.
"Oh yes, there are many here…" Nagini's tongue flicks out of her mouth several times as they reach the cobwebbed jungle of dust-covered boxes. "I can smell them."
"Well, eat as many as you want," The snake disembarks her shoulders and Halia lowers herself to sit on the wooden plankboards to rest and catch her breath. "There are probably more in the cellar, too, if you want to check there next. Do you want me to help you find them?"
"No, I will hunt on my own. You should wait with Master Tom so he doesn't grow impatient." There's flash of something that Halia can't quite place in Nagini's eyes – something reminiscent of amusement.
Could snakes be amused?
"Are you sure?" Halia's stomach flips at the thought of being alone with him, especially after the way he so casually touched her arm in reassurance and made her pulse race so quickly that she swears he must have heard it. "I don't want to leave you up here all by yourself…"
Lies. She's floored at the chance to be alone with him for a bit. He's the best distraction she could have possibly hoped for after everything she just went through and while their conversation about it was brief, she feels immensely better already.
"I am sure. You are too noisy to be a good hunter."
"I'll leave you to it, then," Halia grins and brushes off her jeans. But when she takes the first step down, she pauses and says impulsively, "Before I go, Nagini, I have a question and I don't want you to tell Professor Riddle about it…"
Nagini tilts her head up. "I am loyal to you, Potter girl."
She swallows; there's no going back now…"Does he have a girlfriend?"
"What is that? A mate?"
Halia shrugs. "Sure."
"Of course he does."
Oh. Her stomach sinks even though it's not really that surprising – she already expected that there was something going on between Bellatrix Black and him, after all.
"You're his mate," Nagini adds.
Halia snorts a laugh. Clearly, the concept is getting lost in translation and Nagini doesn't know what she's really asking about. "No, I mean do you ever see female humans? When you're at home?"
"No longer."
Halia's interest perks up immediately. "No longer?"
Nagini shakes her head from side to side. "Not since three nights before the last full moon."
"I see," a wide smile winds itself across her face, "Thanks, Nagini."
"Of course, Potter girl. Now leave so I can hunt."
There's no need for Nagini to repeat herself; Halia glides down the stairs with that same unbreakable smile and tiptoes into the kitchen, peering from behind a cabinet into the den. He seems to have made himself comfortable enough and is paging through one of her mum's herbology books with a sizable pile of other titles next to him and his long legs propped up on the ottoman.
She quietly pours a new cup of earl grey, pauses to check her reflection in the metallic sheen of
the tea kettle, and takes a deep breath to summon her courage before strolling casually into the den.
He doesn't look up from the book when she enters, but she sees him rolls his eyes as he says, "You'd think I starve her by the way she carries on."
"You don't mind that I let her eat them, right?" she sets the mug on the floral-pattered ceramic coaster near his elbow.
"I suppose not," he sighs, his expression shifting to slight surprise when he notices the tea, "Thank you."
"No problem," she plops down next to him on the couch, fighting to remain calm and collected even though her nerves prickle in excitement at the fact that the only thing separating them is the small pile of books he picked off the shelf. "Find anything worth reading?" she pretends to skim the titles in interest, though her eyes are far more preoccupied with him – specifically, how sharp and attractive his jawline looks from this angle.
"I suppose we'll see," he turns another page, apparently oblivious to her wandering eyes.
Silence settles between them and it seems that he would be content to read until Nagini finishes hunting and joins them again.
Fuck that. Halia is determined to make the most of this – partly because she's terrified that allowing her fixation on him to wane will lead her mind right back to the dark place it just escaped from. And partly because her new intel from Nagini is making her feel bolder than usual.
"Well like I said, feel free to borrow them. Seems like we'll be seeing quite a bit of each other this year so you can return them whenever," she smiles up at him.
"Thanks," he mutters, his dark eyes never leaving the page as he takes a sip of tea.
He is so incredibly irritating at times.
"Anyway," she shifts just a hair closer to him and sends out her legs to rest right next to his, her feet an inch from his ankle. "I'd offer you a tour of the house, but honestly, I'm trying to limit the number of rooms I go into. It gives me a weird feeling, being around all this stuff we found on our travels. This is the first time I've been here since...well, you know."
"I can imagine it is quite difficult for you." Finally, he closes the book and looks at her, but the piercing intensity of his dark eyes as though he's sifting over her emotions catches her off-guard.
This Unspeakable-Memory-Space shit is clearly making her paranoid. There's no way he'd perform Legilimency on her without her knowledge – right? No. She trusts him that much, at least. He's just incredibly perceptive and surprisingly understanding at times.
Merlin she hopes that's simply the case, anyway…it would be absolutely mortifying if he knew about the fact she fancied him. And it's in that moment when Nagini's words ring through her head again…
'You're his mate.'
That snake better not blab to him about what she asked earlier.
Halia nods and glances up at him, "Yeah. It's sort of a reminder of all the memories I still don't have. For example," she gestures to the line of bronze, statue-like trinkets sitting on the fireplace mantle, "I have no idea who gave us those, but they were a gift or reward for some sort of investigation we did..." she scratches the back of her neck, "I think. But there are other things I remember vividly – like my mum's books, obviously. She was always reading…"
Then Halia freezes momentarily when she notices the carved wooden box tucked neatly in the bottom row of the shelf and then jumps to her feet to fetch it, "And this –" she grins as she lifts the cover and sees the familiar, checkered stone board and rows of matching intricate pieces, "this was my dad's special Wizard's Chess set that used to belong to my grandfather. He taught me to play one Christmas and I made him play again and again until I finally beat him in a match."
Professor Riddle smirks at her. "You're sure he didn't just let you win?"
"Of course he didn't. He was just as competitive as I am," she tosses back a playful look, "I just happened to be quite good, actually…want me to prove it?"
He folds his arms across his chest and eyes her with an amused expression. "Do your worst, Miss Potter."
-xx-
It's dusk when they arrive in Moscow and her nerves tremble in anticipation as the guard leads them down a narrow staircase to the cavernous, repurposed crypt below which is packed wall to wall with men yelling and waving paper banknotes in the air while a fierce duel rages on the long platform in the center of the room. The air is heavy, saturated with sweat and testosterone and stale smoke. Regulus presses a familiar charm bracelet into her palm as they approach a half-goblin with greasy hair who must be the bookmaker given the sizable briefcase resting on the bar next to him and the two burly men on either side of him, wands drawn.
The half-goblin's beady eyes rake over them, lingering on Bellatrix just a bit longer. "Aren't you two a little young to be frequenting this sort of establishment?" With the bracelet clasped tightly around her wrist, Bella understands his Russian perfectly.
"Not at all," Regulus smiles and extends a bar of pure gold. "One for the roster, please."
The half-goblin presses his lips together and inspects the bar, weighing it between two hands. Satisfied at its purity and apparently convinced of their seriousness, he asks, "What's your name then, boy?"
"Rurik," Regulus says while tucking a cigarette into the corner of his mouth, "But the payment's not for me – it's for my sister, Beatrice."
The bookie looks down his crooked nose at her and lets out a raspy laugh. "Is that so?"
With the conversation's attention shifted to her, Regulus ducks past them to order a couple of drinks at the bar. Bellatrix expects it; as per their typical routine, her cousin provides the introduction and she talks specifics.
"Yes, Sir. I wish to add my name to the roster." Bella answers in fluent Russian– again, thanks to the mysterious bracelet Regulus nicked from work– and holds her head high.
"I don't think so," he shakes his head and smirks, "I couldn't live with myself if I allowed such a pretty, delicate little thing such as yourself to get hurt."
She digs her nails into her palms at his condescension but manages to keep her voice calm and pleasant. "Pick three of your best duelists. If I beat all of them, I get eighty percent of your cut of the winnings."
"A cocky one, aren't you?" he looks at her in amusement. "And your other terms if, hypothetically, you didn't win against all three of my most accomplished duelists?"
Bella wets her lips with her tongue and leans in close enough that her breasts brush against his arm, "You can use your imagination. Pick your own prize."
His eyes roam over her again like he's already won and he flashes her a stained yellow smile, "You drive a hard bargain, Beatrice. Very well. Your first duel will be after the next two matches."
After a quick 'thank you' and saucy smile, she joins Regulus where he sits, resting his elbows back on the bar as he watches the current pair of duelists.
"What in the hell kind of place is this?" she hisses and picks up the martini that is presumably hers, "Since when did we begin dealing with half-breeds?"
"Since it became pretty fucking difficult to find a bookie you haven't emptied the pockets of," Regulus blows his too-long hair out of his eyes, "I thought you'd take it as a compliment. What is it they started calling you back in London, again? The Bloodshed Beauty?"
Indeed, it is.
She grins arrogantly. "It's been a long time since we've done this, Reg."
"I know. It's about time that we got back into it and there's no time like the present…"
That couldn't be truer. Save for her occasional, hopeful strolls around Diagon Alley or drinks at the Leaky Cauldron, she's refused to leave the manor for a couple of weeks, now. Regulus' proposition was just about the only thing that could convince her otherwise.
"I've had one hell of a day," he says with a long sigh, "and you, dear cousin,have had one hell of a month."
She hates him for saying that – for the reminder (as if she actually needed one) and his sympathetic smile that accompanies it. It's not like she's surprised that he knows, of course...
But how much did he know?
Did he know about the way things were between Tom and her? That he treated her like nothing more than a common whore?
The thought makes her nauseous and shame floods her like a cold sweat.
If she was really being honest with herself, she always thought the things he said to her were just part of some twisted game – just one big act that he got off on.
Had it been completely stupid to believe that was the case? Did everyone around them, including Regulus, fancy her a fool for playing along for so long?
When they were together it never mattered to her. She would have been anyone or anything he wanted her to be. She loved him that much.
Still loves him that much.
They sit through another two matches until, finally, her name is called.
Regulus flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette with his little finger and sends her a wink. "I'll reel for you."
There are several audible gasps and a few laughs as she climbs the platform. She ignores them, a passive expression on her face as she surveys the crowd. She can see everything from up here, from the leering smiles of several men near her feet to the lounge on the other side of the hall where the wealthiest bettors sit, surrounded by a posse of Veela.
Among them is none other than Lucius Malfoy, his light hair pulled back from his regal face. Though she holds his gaze for several seconds, neither of them make their recognition of the other known. Nor would either of them speak of this encounter to Narcissa; they're both somewhere they shouldn't be, after all.
Her first opponent is tall and broad-shouldered, but moves sluggishly and proves to be no match for her agility as she dodges his attempts at disarming her while firing back a string of Blasting Curses. In all, the duel takes less than thirty seconds before he's thrown from the platform and she calmly tucks the curly strand of hair that fell out of her up-do back into place.
"You consider him to be among your best?" she yells to the half-goblin over the roar of the crowd, and laughs wildly with a surge of adrenaline. "Pathetic – give me a real challenge!" A team of pixies zip around the room to collect the new bets that are suddenly thrown into the air.
His mouth curls into a smirk and he says something to one of guards who then ducks behind a velvet curtain near the bar, presumably to fetch her next opponent.
The second duelist is, to her delight, a bit more of a challenge. This one lasts an entire minute before she hits him with a Severing Curse that slices deeply just under his neck. The crowd roars for her as he falls to his knees, the blood gushing down his shirt.
Now the booker looks truly shocked, not to mention a bit irritated. His first duelist had been a soft play in hopes that she would remain unscathed for the 'prize' he hoped to claim from her later and the second only marginally more difficult when he saw that she was actually skilled. Only now, in her final duel, would she truly face one of his best. It's all part of the same game which she's played dozens of times.
Fuck them for underestimating her.
Meanwhile, Regulus inches across the bar in preparation to accept her payout and Lucius holds up a bet which she assumes is quite substantial by the way the blue eyes on the Veela beside him widen.
The final duelist swaggers onto the platform, a man with a wolfish face and thick eyebrows. They bow and she manages to block his first attack, though it knocks her back to the end of the platform, where she teeters on the edge. She takes a fraction of a second to catch her breath and drown out the surrounding noise in concentration.
After that, she begins to find her stride. Her forehead begins to sweat as the beams of light from each of their wands stream back and forth over the platform in rapid succession and she runs through the encyclopedia of spells in her mind. Though her opponent's expression is equally as focused and determined as hers, it also betrays a sense of surprise and awe. It's the same sentiment rippling through the crowd around her, filling her chest with pride and confidence.
As it should. She learned from the best, after all.
She remembers so vividly the way he used to look at her in composed admiration whenever she successfully mastered one of the advanced curses or dueling techniques he taught their little group. More often than not, she caught on far faster than Regulus, Rabastan, or Rodolphus and it wasn't long before he began teaching her even more when the others weren't around. Then they would spend hours together in the Room of Requirement as she practiced and he read, glancing up occasionally to correct her form or technique.
And then one day, she performed a successful Cruciatus Curse on her first try. He gazed at her for a long time with an expression so indecipherable she began to feel uneasy despite her triumph and excitement. Finally, he began to stroll toward her and she waited as though frozen in place.
He slowly circled her and she remembers shuddering slightly when he stopped behind her and suddenly traced his fingertips around her neck.
"Proud, pure Bellatrix Black," he murmured in her ear, the tone of his voice betraying a smirk, "You are positively ruthless."
At the time, it sounded like the best compliment in the world. And it still does.
It hits her in that moment, as a hex narrowly skims the top of her head, that this is exactly what he wants from her – what he's always wanted from her:
For her to be proud and, above all, ruthless.
Over the last few weeks, she's been whiny and desperate and essentially everything he doesn't want. Oh, but she could be ruthless and now that she understands their game, she's ready to play. After all, she's Bellatrix fucking Black and losing just isn't her – not one bit.
She beams ear-to-ear as the sort of cry that comes only from excruciating pain resounds from the other end of the platform and the crowd erupts into chaos as her opponent's dueling arm drops to the ground with a thud, wand still in hand. Lucius barely shows a reaction, raising his eyebrow only slightly in amusement and sending her a shadow of a smile. And the half-goblin, once so sure that she would be sharing his bed that evening, glares up at her with a furious expression mixed with incredulity.
She's high on victory and takes her time to bow to the sea of people cheering rowdily while the men in the front rows fight for a chance to kiss her feet or the hem of her robes. But now Regulus is arguing with the booker, presumably demanding their payout, and she knows they'll need to make a quick escape.
But they're not quick enough to avoid a spontaneous duel with the half-goblin's guards, as it turns out. Bella hops off the platform and manages to fight them off just long enough for Regulus to grab the case of winnings and they nearly make it to the door unscathed when a wayward curse hits him right in the stomach.
After Apparating to safety, Regulus slumps against a lamppost, groaning and clutching his side. "I think that fucker broke my rib. You know, Bella, when they say 'disarm', it's not meant literally…"
She throws her head back and laughs harder than she has in months.
-xx-
Tom's mind turns as Halia studies the board, debating her next move. She is actually quite good and even managed to win one of the three games they've played, though his current preoccupation with her account of today's visit to the Department of Mysteries probably gave her a bit of an advantage anyway.
There's something he can't get out of his head and the more he pours over the situation, the more cautionary he becomes, wondering if perhaps he had gotten ahead of himself earlier. Was the fact that the Department didn't detect their bond too good to be true? It seems unwise to begin planning how he might convince her to join the Department when he couldn't even be certain whether the test was a fluke or if their bond was actually that strong…
What if the Department actually did detect something, but hid it from her? He would need to see her memory of the test and everything it entailed to know for sure, but he couldn't afford to wait until Potter had a dream about it or randomly decided to show him.
No, he needs to see it now while it's as vivid as possible in her mind.
He'll just have to be cautious that he's not detected, that's all. It shouldn't be too difficult now that he's gotten rather used to the intricacies of her mind. Plus, the fact that she's quite distracted at the moment should help…
He finds the memory right where he expects, just beyond the border of her mind that separates conscious and subconscious thoughts. It's almost funny how easy it is, like it's there waiting for him, but of course that isn't the case – it's simply because it's weighing heavily on her, even if she's not consciously thinking about it.
Carefully, he skims it and awaits her reaction, but nothing follows and she's still staring at the board with her chin resting in her palm just like before. Gently, he presses deeper, catching longer glimpses of Potter's screams of pain as the thread of light trickles out of her forehead and how it transforms the pool as it reaches the liquid.
He understands, now, why she was so hesitant to relive the experience.
Then he watches Regulus study the thousands of symbols that appear in disorderly segments, waving his wand every so often to spin and warp the reflecting image. Tom doesn't recognize any of the symbols and doubts that Regulus could possibly be reading them in such a short amount of time. In fact, he seems far more interested in examining the spaces between them and measures a few with the tip of his wand, his expression calm and unsurprised. Nothing out of the ordinary, then...
And it certainly seemed as though Regulus knew what he was doing – surely if there was a way to fuck up the test, Bode would have checked it himself.
Tom relaxes slightly as he plays over the memory again, this time in a bit more detail – perhaps he had worried for nothing.
-xx-
After examining the board once and then reexamining it another couple of times, she's fairly convinced that this is the only move she could make without allowing him to win again. Halia orders her knight ahead, but then begins to question herself when she glances up to see him staring back at her with a blank expression.
"What?" she scans the board again. Did she miss something completely obvious?
He doesn't answer her, doesn't even move as he continues staring back at her.
"Hello?" she reaches over and pokes his arm.
Without warning, she's right back in the Department of Mysteries, her legs trembling and forehead searing as she kneels over that deceptively calm pool.
Make it stop – please, make it stop.
She clenches her eyes shut and screams. And then, as fast as the pain began, it abruptly cuts off and she's back in the den at her parents' house, her scream still ringing in her ears.
Her eyes whip open in disbelief and Professor Riddle's gaze carries a strange mix of shock and dismay for a fraction of a second. And not because he's concerned for her sake. She can see that in his gaze, too, and when she jumps to her feet his eyes turn cold and unreadable.
For a moment she can't breathe, as though she's being strangled by her own disbelief.
"You were reading my memories, weren't you?"
He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to.
Betrayal socks her hard in the gut. She trusted him.
"How dare you!"
"I wanted to ensure that you were processing everything that happened today in a healthy manner," he says finally, his tone calm – too calm. Calculating.
"I can do that just fine on my own, thanks," she snaps.
He raises an eyebrow. "Can you?"
The way he's looking at her is so condescending that she feels a strong urge to slap him. Like a bucket of cold water is suddenly dumped over her head, the fact that she ever believed he wanted to help her out of compassion suddenly seems completely idiotic.
But she wanted it to be true – all she wanted was one bloody person she could trust and, of course, it didn't help that he went and acted all charming and handsome.
It all seems too convenient now and so obvious that it should have struck her far earlier.
"Are you one of them?" she asks.
He smirks slightly and lets out a snort of a laugh, "No."
There's that urge to slap him again.
"Then why can I tell you everything?"
"I don't know," he folds his arms over his chest and looks up at her vacantly, but she's almost positive he's lying.
Fucking hell, she hates how calm he is right now.
"What the hell is this, then?" she demands angrily, "You wanting to 'help me' is a complete load of shit, isn't it?"
"Of course not, Potter," he tilts his head to the side and looks up at her with a slightly puzzled expression. "Why would you think that?"
"Why? Because guess what?!" Her voice is shrill in disbelief, "Perusing my memories at your leisure isn't helping. And I'm not stupid enough to believe that you were making sure I'm 'processing' correctly – so be honest: what are you actually playing at?"
"Call it a professional curiosity," he says casually with a shrug.
Of bloody course. She should have seen this coming from the way he always seemed to perk up whenever she brought up anything about the Department and remained politely disinterested at best with everything else she mentioned. Even so, it hits her hard too– right in the same spot of her gut that betrayal did– and she's simmering in such profound rage that her hands begin to shake.
She's had more than enough people poking around her mind for one day.
"Right. Well, it turns out that I'm already a 'professional curiosity' to an entire Ministry Department. So if you could be so kind as to fuck off, I think I'd prefer not to have your 'help' from now on."
She expects him to be shocked or at least a little angry and his complete lack of any particular reaction is infuriating on a whole new level.
"Very well." He rises and looks over to Nagini, who has apparently been waiting at the edge of the den. "We're going, Nagini."
Tom strolls past her without another glimpse in Halia's direction, but Nagini doesn't follow him and looks sadly up at her instead.
"Nagini," he says again, with a bit more edge this time.
"Thanks for the rats, Potter girl," the snake tells her before slithering across the kitchen tiles after the professor.
Halia breathes for a few seconds, her nerves still smoldering in fury.
Fucking prick.
All this time he was using her and she was stupid enough to fancy him – stupid enough to trust him.
Stupid enough to trust anyone.
-xx-
"What did you do to Potter girl?" Nagini hisses accusingly when they slip outside.
"Nothing."
It's Potter's fault that it happened anyway, with her fucking lack of boundaries. She never would have detected his Legilimency if she hadn't reached over to get his attention and triggered yet another spike in their bond.
There goes months' worth of progress of earning her trust.
"You lie, Marvolo." Nagini looks poised to strike, her brilliant white fangs on menacing display. He'll be sure to take an extra dosage of antidote tonight, just in case she tries to kill him in his sleep.
He should have been far more cautious – it's so unlike him to allow a plan to go so awry.
But he would regroup. After all, there's no way he'd allow himself to lose his potential spy over something so foolish. And not only that; he would need to find a way to keep her in line, too.
Maybe she'd get over it when she reached a more stable frame of mind and realized her overreaction. And if not…well, he'd find another way. It's not like he has much of a choice in the matter.
"Hey, wait!" The door swings open behind them and he turns just in time to see Potter fling his horcrux at his face. "Don't forget your stupid book!"
-xx-