Candied Tongue

"Beware the candied tongue that laps at royal boots, and through its sugary slime conceals the black heart."


Wednesday morning dawned dreary and wet, and still Bellatrix was not speaking to Rodolphus. The Christmas holidays were only a week away, and every day that it drew nearer she became more tense. Soon she would have her Mark; soon she would be bound by blood to the Dark Lord; soon she could exercise her true potential…

But Rodolphus was the dark cloud over the entire exciting prospect. All her plans for the holidays had revolved around him, but now… Truth be told, she was the one who was maintaining the silence between them. Every so often, he would catch her eye, looking like he was about to speak, but Bellatrix would stare back coldly and he would look away. She wasn't even sure if she would be going to the Lestrange estate over Christmas anymore. That was one of the reasons that she had told Antonin to bring Rabastan, Rodolphus' older brother. She needed to make sure she didn't lose her chance to join the Dark Lord.

"Miss Black." Professor McGonagall's sharp voice cut through her thoughts. She was snapping her fingers in front of Bellatrix's face. "Is a little focus too much to ask?"

Bellatrix snorted derisively and sat up further in her chair, looking as prim and proper as she could. McGonagall muttered something about insolence and went back to teaching.

It went on like this all day as Bellatrix became increasingly distracted. By dinnertime, she was checking her watch almost every minute, and her agitation did not go unnoticed.

"Bellatrix, are you all right?" Lucius asked after her rapidly drumming fingers almost knocked over his pumpkin juice.

"I'm fine," she snapped. From several seats down, Rodolphus looked at her. She glared back.

Narcissa caught the shared look. She lifted her head from Lucius' shoulder and said, "Bellatrix, even if you haven't read any of the letters, you know Mum and Father are upset that you're… you know… not speaking to—"

"I don't care."

"But this is the plan they've had for you for years. You can't just suddenly decide that you're not going to be with him. You're meant to marry him. They won't let you do anything else."

Bellatrix put down her knife and gave her sister a scathing look. "You honestly think," she said caustically, "that I won't marry him after all this?" She tossed her head. "I know what my duty is as a pureblood witch. But that doesn't mean that I have to like it." She stood, shaking the table slightly, and stalked out of the room.

Midnight was fast approaching, and she could barely breathe.

As she reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Bellatrix took a furtive glance around and laid the tip of her wand against her head, removing the Disillusionment Charm. She leaned back against a tree, breathing heavily from her run out of the castle, and checked her watch. 11:58. The two older boys would be arriving any minute. A cool wind picked up, ruffling her hair, and her skin tingled deliciously in anticipation. Shivering, she whispered, "Lumos," and brought a tiny point of light to life at the end of her wand.

Almost as if in answer to her excited quiver, there were two loud crunching sounds to her left. Bellatrix whipped her head around so quickly that she felt her neck snap.

"Bellatrix," Dolohov said courteously, dipping his head in greeting. She nodded back and looked him over. He looked thinner than when she had seen him last, and the shadows under his eyes were darker.

The man beside Dolohov stepped out from the shadows into the feeble glow from Bellatrix's wand. Though he was the same age as his companion, he looked significantly older, yet he was still unmistakably a Lestrange. His dark hair fell across tired eyes, and he was shockingly gaunt. His eyes, like Rodolphus', were dark; they roved over her body and settled, unlike most men's, on her face.

"Bellatrix," he said in a low, rough voice. There was a darkness in his tone that she had never heard in Rodolphus'. The simple truth was that Rabastan, despite his thinner frame, was stronger than the younger Lestrange would ever be. Bellatrix often wondered why the Blacks and the Lestranges had not arranged for her to marry the first brother.

"Rabastan," she replied slowly, "it's a pleasure to see you again."

He seemed to be waiting for something, a curtsey or other gesture of respect, but she communicated her refusal to comply with a cold look. He shrugged slightly and did not hesitate. "Rodolphus tells me there's been trouble between you two."

"What of it?" Bellatrix replied coolly.

"You can't do that. You have to stop ignoring him. I won't have you disrespecting my family, and I won't have you jeopardizing our status."

She examined her nails without interest. "How like Rodolphus, to go running to you for help. Isn't that an important skill for one in his position in society? To be able to handle a woman?" She laughed darkly. "Wittle baby Rodolphus can't take care of himself?"

"Rodolphus has the right to a woman who knows her place."

"And I have the right to my freedom."

Rabastan grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look up at him. His eyes were hardened and unfathomable. "You can have your toys, Bellatrix." He smirked and added, "Rest assured that Rodolphus will have his. But what you have yet to learn is that you cannot let the problems in your marital bed spill over into the public eye."

She quirked an eyebrow at this phrase. Even Dolohov seemed taken aback; he shrugged and said, "Marital bed, Rab? I'm not sure that quite applies yet."

Rabastan's eyes flickered over to his friend, and then returned to Bellatrix. His gaze remained fixed as he replied, "Nevertheless, a certain amount of respect in society is necessary, even if it does not extend to one's private life. I do not for one moment expect you two to be entirely faithful to each other. I only urge you to present the proper face to society."

Bellatrix frowned. "Rabastan, you used to be so nice to me. What's happened to you?"

He let go of her shoulders and gave her a half-smile, but his heart was not in it. "Antonin told me you were practically a fanatic about our cause. Where's that spark, that drive? All I see is a whining little girl."

"I have it!" she persisted hotly, taking a defiant step forward. "I want to devote myself to the Dark Lord. I can prove myself to him, I'm faithful—"

"Bellatrix, you sound like a child," Dolohov said scornfully. "We know you're devoted; you've made that much clear. That's not the issue."

"What do you think will happen to the cause when we're not here?" Rabastan pressed. "We could be killed serving the Dark Lord. Greater followers than you have died, Bellatrix."

Dolohov paled slightly as he nodded in agreement.

"And?" Bellatrix scoffed. "Do you think that I'm afraid to serve him?"

"No," Rabastan answered, "but I do think that you haven't realized just how much your life will be dedicated to him. Your marriage, your friends, every connection you make will be in some way a service to the Dark Lord. When you're gone, when my brother's gone, when Antonin and I are gone… our children will be the ones to carry on the torch."

She bit her lip and glared at him. "You're saying that I need to bear sons for the Dark Lord like a good—"

"—Like a good pureblood woman, Bellatrix. And if you and Rodolphus are fighting, that won't happen."

Bellatrix was infuriated. Rabastan was speaking to her as though she were a little girl who needed to be taught her duty. She was no child; she was Bellatrix Black. She was stronger than him, stronger than anyone, and she could prove it. She would never be the housewife in the shadows that her mother was, that her sister would one day be. She was born to be different.

"I will never be as weak as Rodolphus," Bellatrix hissed slowly, her eyes shifting back and forth between the two men. She drew herself up to her full height and continued, "But I know my duty. Don't treat me like a child, or like one of your pathetic pureblood women. My blood makes me as worthy as you. I am your equal, and one day I will be your better. You will find no mindless follower in me."

Dolohov smiled toothily and inclined his head slightly towards her. "Brave words from a young lass, eh?" He winked at his friend.

Rabastan's half-smile extended to an almost sincere grin. "She's not as young as you made her sound, Antonin. She's more ready than I thought." Dolohov shrugged, earning a glare from Bellatrix.

"Does this mean I still get my Mark at Christmas?" she asked impatiently.

"Does this mean that you will stop ignoring my younger brother and accept your place in our society?" Rabastan countered without hesitation.

Bellatrix closed her eyes and nodded. She heaved a sigh, and through her eyelashes saw Dolohov's gaze become momentarily distracted a few inches below her neck. She chanced a glance at the other man. Unlike his friend, Rabastan was staring straight into her eyes, patiently awaiting something.

"I want to hear you say it," he said in a low voice. "You worry so much about jeopardizing the cause. Tell me that you're doing your part to save it."

"I am," she answered harshly. "But I don't see how it can help anything if I'm wasting my time with someone who doesn't care about what we believe in, Rabastan."

He shook his head, smirking slightly. "He cares, Bellatrix. He's just tired of trying to prove it to someone for whom proof will never suffice." Suddenly, his dark eyes widened, and he let out a hiss of pain. He gripped his left forearm and swallowed hard. "I have to go," he said through gritted teeth.

Bellatrix was enthralled. "He's calling you?" she breathed. Rabastan nodded and looked at Dolohov, who shrugged and shook his head. Bellatrix reached out a shaking hand and lifted his sleeve. There, embedded in his skin, was the image of a curling black snake that wound itself through the mouth of a crudely shaped skull. The snake twisted across his skin as the entire tattoo pulsated with a life of its own. She held his wrist gently, inspecting the image with reverence.

"Do you mind?" Rabastan spat. Bellatrix ignored him, bending closer to the throbbing Mark. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his arm, surprised to feel how his skin burned in the cold night. She heard a sharp intake of breath and pulled away slowly, letting his wrist fall from her grasp.

"Go," she whispered, gazing longingly at the half-exposed snake that seemed to crawl from underneath his sleeve. Rabastan flicked his wand in his other hand, and with a small pop, disappeared.

Bellatrix was still staring at the spot he had left from when Dolohov snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Try to control yourself, Black," he snorted derisively. "You don't have to go into orgasmic rapture every time you see one."

She narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips. "Why didn't he call for you, Antonin?" she mocked. "Not special enough?"

"You'll soon learn that being called by the Dark Lord is by no means a sign that you are in his favour," Dolohov warned. "I'd advise you to stop your little games and grow up, or your initiation will be hell."

The word caught her interest. Bellatrix tilted her head to one side and gazed up at Dolohov. She took a step forward and repeated, "Initiation?"

He looked down at her. Her proximity seemed to make him nervous. "Of course," he replied. "Everyone must go through a personal initiation with the Dark Lord."

"And… what exactly does that entail?"

Dolohov shook his head.

Bellatrix leaned closer, pressing her chest against his. His breath caught in his throat, and he stepped backwards. She followed him with her body, gently pinning him against a tree. Her eyes glimmered in the light that glowed from the castle in the distance.

"Bellatrix—"

"Antonin," she interrupted softly. "What is the initiation like?"

He swallowed hard and answered, "Well, first he asks you a few questions in front of everyone. As long as you give the right answers, that part's easy. But he'll know if you're lying."

For a moment, Bellatrix's seductive tone faded. "He will?" she asked, fascinated.

"Yes."

"And then?"

Dolohov took a deep breath. "Well, the next part's… much more secret. I really shouldn't tell you."

Bellatrix traced her hand up his neck and wound her fingers into his hair. He leaned his head back, and she stood on her toes to murmur in his ear, "You really should, Antonin."

He closed his eyes. "Bellatrix, stop it—"

"You don't mean that," she whispered, pressing her lips to his neck.

He placed a hand between their bodies and made a half-hearted attempt to push her away, but she ignored it. She bit gently at his jawline before kissing the rough stubble of his cheek.

"Didn't we just have a talk about you and Rodolphus?" he said in a low, hoarse voice.

Bellatrix gripped the back of his neck. "Yes, we did. About how I don't have to be faithful to him." She twisted her leg gracefully around his. "And now we're through talking about him." Boldly, she traced her tongue across Dolohov's lower lip. "Now," she continued softly, her mouth still barely touching his, "what was that about the second part of the initiation?"

"I… I really shouldn't," Dolohov said unconvincingly, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She bit his lip then, tearing at the delicate skin and drawing blood. She closed her eyes and let the metallic taste sting the tip of her tongue as she commanded in a breathy whisper, "Tell me."

He winced as he ran his own tongue over the cut on his lip. "Well… the second part is different for everyone. But he'll want to test you in private."

"How?"

"For you, it depends on what potential he sees in you. For me… he wanted me to torture people who didn't support the cause."

Bellatrix leaned towards Dolohov, her lips barely touching his. "Antonin," she breathed, her chest rising and falling against his, "what did he do to you?"

"I really can't talk about it."

She let her hand slide down his chest and underneath his shirt. Her nails grazed the sensitive skin above his belt, and he shuddered. She let one finger slip beneath his belt, tugging his hips towards hers.

"Bellatrix, I swear," Dolohov groaned, "this is something I can't tell you. I swore I wouldn't."

She kissed him fiercely, and he responded instantly, seizing the back of her head with a forceful hand. He tried to slip his tongue into her mouth, but she forced it aside with her own and dug her nails into his chest.

"If you won't tell me," she whispered between feverish kisses, "we won't be able to keep going."

Dolohov hesitated a moment, and then began, "You can't tell anyone I told you this—"

Bellatrix pushed him sharply and stepped backwards. He touched a hand to the back of his head where she'd slammed him into the tree and winced. "What the hell was that?"

She glared at him, her red lips twisted in a smirk. "Did you think I actually wanted you?" She laughed coldly. "I can't believe you would have broken a sacred promise to the Dark Lord."

"You little—"

"Bitch?" she finished for him sarcastically. "Creative, Antonin. Did you come up with that all by yourself?" She shook her head in disgust. "You sicken me."

He stared at her, wide-eyed, and then spat on the cold ground at her feet. She gasped and reached for her wand, but before she could retaliate he had Disapparated.

"Coward," she muttered, and turned back towards the castle.

-(Well, not completely where I intended to end things... but I wanted to give you all an update. I may or may not be able to update until June; the One Act play that I'm directing opens this week, then I have APs for the two weeks after, and a songwriting/recording project for the two weeks after that. But I know where it's going--get ready for Bellatrix's Christmas holidays!--so I should be able to get it up fairly early in June. In this chapter, I'm really agonizing over how I characterized Rabastan and Dolohov, so reviews would be HUGELY appreciated on that front. If every visitor to this story left a review, I'd probably pass out from shock/excitement. I can't believe I'm resorting to this tactic, but all reviewers get a cookie and a date with the Death Eater of his or her choice.

Finally, I have a Bellatrix one shot in the works. It's from her point of view while in Azkaban, and it's pretty abstract because you can see how her mind is working (or not working). If you've read my Batman story "Hematolagnia", the narrative style is quite similar. Also, there is a new poll on my profile relating to this story--please vote!

Thanks for reading!)-

-(Click the button!)-