Candied Tongue
"Beware the candied tongue that laps at royal boots, and through its sugary slime conceals the black heart."
The Lestranges' Christmas party was still in full swing, although a few guests were suddenly nowhere to be found. In fact, Mordred Malfoy appeared to be the only young man still in the room. He seemed to realize this as he and Bellatrix swept across the ballroom.
"We'd best hurry," he said quietly, quickening his step as they passed through the door and turned towards the stairs.
Bellatrix took a deep breath and felt it shudder in her chest. The narrow heel of her shoe sank into the plush carpet of the first step, and she wobbled slightly, gripping his arm for support.
Mordred glanced at her, candlelight flickering over his handsome features. "Nervous?" he asked with hollow sympathy.
She threw him a dark glare and haughtily replied, "No." As they ascended the steps, she thought more carefully about his words. "But how did you know what I was doing tonight?"
He shrugged. "News of a change in the ranks travels fast."
"I thought your friends weren't speaking to you."
He chuckled and placed a hand at the small of her back. "You're very observant. A good listener. It will serve you well, my dear." He looked down the hall as they reached the top of the stairs, and Bellatrix followed his gaze. A group of men, some recognizable, some much older than her, was clustered around Arrakis Lestrange's office. The door was open, and the men were slowly filing in. Bellatrix felt her heart pound at the base of her throat as she saw Rabastan and Rodolphus at the end of the line. She let Mordred's arm slip from hers and strode across the hallway to meet them.
"Hello, boys," she said, pressing a kiss to Rodolphus' cheek. He stared at her for a few seconds, and then shifted his gaze over her shoulder to the man slowly making his way towards them.
Rodolphus snorted quietly and replied, "Is this how you're trying to convince me that you're not sleeping around? By showing up with him?"
Bellatrix rolled her eyes and turned away. Rabastan caught her eye. "Calm down, both of you. This isn't the time." He placed a warning hand on his brother's shoulder. "What would the Dark Lord think of such petty arguments?"
The mention of the Dark Lord snapped Bellatrix back to attention. She stretched onto her toes, trying to see over the heads into Mr. Lestrange's office, but she only succeeded in confirming her suspicions that she was the only female present.
"Why are there no other women?"
Mordred crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you really have to ask that? There are none who can match us." He glanced over Bellatrix's graceful form with an appraising eye and added, "None yet, at any rate."
Rabastan sighed. "Malfoy, stop. Honestly, the three of you are enough to drive the devil mad. Must I guard all your tongues?"
Bellatrix tossed her head proudly and said, "Not mine. I am here to prove myself, not waste my time with idle chatter."
Rodolphus opened his mouth angrily, but Rabastan squeezed his shoulder to silence him. They had entered the office.
The room was crowded, humming with murmured conversations, and Bellatrix wondered how the Dark Lord could possibly hold a meeting in such a cramped space. She craned her neck, wondering if he was already present, and bit her lip with anxious sigh. This night, her night, had finally arrived: the night when she would be recognized for her own talents and skills, recognized wholly apart from the Lestranges, from Dolohov and Carrow and Malfoy, from everyone—when she alone would shine in front of the Dark Lord. She could prove herself to him, prove her strength and loyalty, and he would praise her, reward her, curse his ill fortune that she had not come to him sooner.
Bellatrix did not notice that she had clenched her fists by her side until she felt Rodolphus' hand suddenly slip over hers. He traced his fingers over the raised tendons on her knuckles.
"Strange," Bellatrix said quietly, not looking at him, "I thought you were angry with me."
He sighed and tried to pry her fingers loose from their tight fist, but she refused to yield. "Bellatrix," he said, bending so that his lips hovered near her ear, "I wish we wouldn't have fights like this. They aren't becoming."
"Neither are imitations of your brother, but I agree with you. We can't be arguing tonight." Bellatrix turned and looked up at Rodolphus. His carefully brushed hair had become mussed and was hanging low over his forehead. She reached up and brushed a lock of dark hair aside, her gaze slowly rising to meet his. They stared at each other for a moment, barely breathing, and Bellatrix's hand slowly relaxed under the warmth of Rodolphus'.
"Definitely not tonight," he whispered, bending to kiss her. She let her body go slack as his arm slid around her waist and his lips moved eagerly against hers. A loud sigh came from behind him, and Bellatrix opened her eyes to see Rabastan and Mordred, watching them with a mixture of disapproval and amusement. She lifted an elegant middle finger, punctuated by the dark red fingernail, behind Rodolphus' head in an obscene gesture, then closed her eyes and slowly pulled away.
Rabastan raised his eyebrows and said, "Mark them well, Malfoy. You may never again see such a bipolar couple."
Malfoy snickered and opened his mouth to comment, but Rabastan stopped him and pressed a finger to his lips, motioning with his chin towards the opposite end of the room. Having made sure that the office door was locked, Mr. Lestrange had made his way through the thick crowd to the bookcase behind his desk. He was glancing over the thick, ancient tomes that covered the shelves and muttering something under his breath. As the crowd fell silent in awe and anticipation, Bellatrix could make out the faint sounds of Latin. Arrakis pulled his wand from his dress robes and placed it against one of the books, then another.
"It's just like Diagon Alley," Rodolphus murmured to Bellatrix, but she held up an impatient hand to silence him. She was watching Arrakis intently. Having marked out some unknown pattern in the books, he uttered a final quiet phrase in Latin. The chosen books glowed green for a brief moment, and then crumbled to ash. The bookcase gave a shudder; Arrakis held out his arms and said, "Stand back." The remaining books quivered as the bookcase shook and finally began to rise into the air. It floated slowly upwards until it hovered, still trembling, about a foot off the ground. Arrakis beckoned someone from the crowd, a spindly man with short auburn hair. Bellatrix's eyes widened, and this time it was she who broke the thick silence.
"Is that… Augustus Rookwood?" she whispered, awestruck.
Mordred nodded, looking proud. "He was Head Boy in his time—would have been your first year, wouldn't it? Top prospect for the Ministry, had his pick of jobs, and what does he choose? The Department of Mysteries." He shook his head and shrugged. "Thank Merlin he's on our side."
"Isn't he an Unspeakable?" Rodolphus inquired.
"Not yet," Mordred replied, "but he'll likely make the position in the next year. He might be one of the youngest—not that the rest of the world would ever know, of course. But he'll be valued for his information, that much is certain."
Bellatrix cast a suspicious glance towards Rabastan, who had remained silent as he watched his father. "You're missing a golden opportunity to give another lesson on the necessity of public propriety," she said mockingly.
Rabastan rubbed his chin thoughtfully and stretched his arms out in front of him before replying, "Actually, you seemed to have grasped the general concept. Besides, being an Unspeakable isn't really a public identity, per se. Now be quiet; we're about to go inside."
"Inside where?" Rodolphus asked, but Bellatrix was already staring eagerly. Mr. Lestrange and Augustus Rookwood were magically pushing the bookcase aside with their wands. Where it had stood, instead of a blank wall, there was a small, dark rectangle that she quickly realized was a secret entrance. It was just large enough for Bellatrix to fit through if she stooped. The crowd was now pushing forward slowly, filing one by one into the dark recess.
"How long has that been there?" Rodolphus muttered incredulously to himself.
As they drew closer to the entrance, Bellatrix could see that it did not lead directly ahead, but downward. Mordred reached it first, but stood aside and gestured gallantly into the recess. "M'lady," he said in a low voice, bowing slightly and giving her a cheeky smile. Bellatrix took his hand and stepped carefully through the hole. Her heeled shoes hit one stone step, and then another, and she mentally cursed the societal demands of fashion. She would have preferred her trademark boots.
With one hand against the dank wall, she slowly made her way down the stairs. Though the secret path had appeared pitch-black at first, there were actually tiny torches that flickered by her feet and lit the way down the spiraling stairs. Bellatrix could feel someone behind her, and the thought was surprisingly comforting. She hadn't expected to need or find comfort tonight.
At the bottom of the steps, a short hall opened into a wide, cavernous room. Here, the Death Eaters had spread out, breaking into smaller groups of quiet conversations. Bellatrix found an empty space against the wall and was quickly joined by Rodolphus.
"Where are the other two?" she asked.
Rodolphus looked over his shoulder. "They're with Amycus Carrow. I suppose they won't want to be associated with the novices." He smiled and rubbed her shoulder. "Are you cold, love?"
She shook her head and pulled a pin out of her hair, then Transfigured it into a mirror and checked her hair. Tucking a few curls back into place, she pocketed the mirror and leaned back against the wall, staring up at Rodolphus.
"Won't we be starting soon?" she said petulantly, biting her lip.
He shrugged and glanced around. "I suppose it's all on the Dark Lord's schedule, really." He caught sight of Antonin Dolohov nearby and exhaled heavily.
Bellatrix followed his gaze and placed a hand on his muscular arm. "So you've forgiven me," she said idly, inspecting the sleeve of his dress robes.
He hesitated a few seconds before answering, "Yes." He watched as she slowly slid her hand underneath his sleeve. "Although Rabastan tells me you didn't actually sleep with him."
"No, I didn't. I made a promise to you, remember? I did what any reasonable person would have done," Bellatrix said evenly. "I saw a weakness, and I took the opportunity to gain information." She began rolling his sleeve up his arm.
"So when you showed up with Mordred Malfoy—"
"I had just met him. I'm aware of his reputation, Rodolphus, and I don't appreciate your jumping to conclusions." Bellatrix had finally reached her goal: the expanse of pale, unmarked skin on Rodolphus' forearm. She traced the edge of her fingernail against his flesh, watching goose bumps rise in its wake. "Oh, Rodolphus," she breathed reverently, her eyes glittering in the dim torchlight, "Rodolphus, can you imagine? What it's going to feel like when he marks us?" Her eyes slipped closed, and she spoke as if in a trance. "To be in his presence, to let him leave his mark upon our skin… to invade our very minds…." She shivered.
There was a sudden gasp from the corner of the room, followed by a ripple of whispers that fell across the crowd. Bellatrix dropped Rodolphus' arm and stood up straight. The men slowly backed away from the center of the room to line the walls. Some crossed the room quickly, finding what seemed to be prearranged places in the circle of wizards. Bellatrix glanced about nervously, wondering if they were standing in the right place; Rodolphus took a small step backwards as he tried to blend in with the other men. Someone coughed. As the last few men found their places in line, the source of the sudden upheaval was revealed.
Standing in the center of the room, wrapped in a thick, swirling shroud of black silk, was a tall, imposing figure. A black hood covered his head, and the billowing sleeves of his robes fell over his hands. His back was to Bellatrix, but she had no doubts in her mind as to his identity. She held her breath as, for the first time, she heard him speak.
"My Death Eaters," the Dark Lord whispered, and yet his words resonated from the stone walls, "my faithful Death Eaters. At my command, you leave your holiday celebrations, your dancing wives and merry children, to serve me." He raised one arm and held his hand, palm up, towards Mr. Lestrange. Bellatrix could see that his bony fingers were unnaturally long and silvery pale.
Mr. Lestrange knelt, ignoring the cold, damp stone, and bowed his head. "My Lord," he said, his voice deep but devoid of its earlier superiority, "I thank you for the honour you have bestowed upon me. My house and my life are at your bidding."
"I can expect no more, Arrakis," the Dark Lord said, lowering his hand. "Your services are appreciated." He slowly surveyed the wizards who stood before him. From what Bellatrix could see, they had arranged themselves more or less according to age. The Dark Lord took a step forward and began making slow progress around the edge of the circle. He came to a stop in front of Rabastan, Antonin, and Mordred. From this angle, Bellatrix could finally catch a glimpse of the Dark Lord's face. His cheeks had the same deathly pallor as his hands. His forehead was long and narrow, but what struck Bellatrix were his eyes. They were a cold, bottomless black, but in the light they glinted crimson. A part of her wondered how his appearance had come to be so inhuman, but perhaps he was never meant to look earthly. Perhaps a man of his power could never be earthly.
"Mordred Malfoy." His words came out almost in a hiss. Mordred's confident expression faltered slightly. "For one year, this space in the circle has stood empty while you, as punishment for your disobedience, bided your time in the gutter." The Dark Lord's eyes glowed dangerously, and Rabastan gave Mordred a subtle kick with the toe of his boot. Mordred took the hint and dropped heavily to his knees, wincing as he hit the floor.
"I beg forgiveness, My Lord," Mordred whispered. "I was defiant and insubordinate. It will not happen again."
"No, I trust it will not. You have learned your lesson, Malfoy; do not make me teach it again." The threatening calm in his voice made Bellatrix shudder. The Dark Lord took a step towards the center of the circle and clasped his eerily long-fingered hands behind his back. When he next spoke, his gaze was pointed towards the ceiling, but his words were to the group at large. "I grow weary, as you do, of all this business with the past. Our glorious past is long behind us; we must learn to shape the future so that the filth of this world know where they belong." His scarlet eyes slid across the faces in the circle and came to rest on Bellatrix and Rodolphus. "So they know where we belong."
Bellatrix's lips parted as she gasped silently for breath. The Dark Lord's eyes smoldered and bored into hers, seeming to burrow into her skull and explore her mind. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if that tingling, crawling sensation of the Dark Lord searching, delving into her innermost thoughts, was just her imagination.
"It's not your imagination," the Dark Lord said in a low voice, and Bellatrix jumped. His flat, pale mouth curled into something resembling a smirk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rodolphus bow his head in respect, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the Dark Lord's.
"These are the two?" he continued, seeming to speak to someone else. Bellatrix closed her mouth and swallowed hard.
"Yes, my Lord," Arrakis replied from behind him. To Bellatrix, his voice was thick and faraway, as though he were speaking from underwater. "My son, Rodolphus, and… Bellatrix Black."
The Dark Lord closed his eyes and ran a bony hand loosely over his face. "The night grows old, and I'm sure these two are anxious to… prove themselves." A low ripple of laughter moved across the circle like a pulse of energy. Bellatrix could not help wondering how many people had tried and failed to join the Dark Lord's followers.
"Let us hope," the Dark Lord hissed, "that you are not among those failures." He strode towards Bellatrix and Rodolphus suddenly and placed the tip of his wand against the stone wall between their heads. The two quickly moved aside and stared in awe. A round wooden door was shimmering into place below the wand. The stone appeared to drip away as though it had been Disillusioned. At the top of the door, where the Dark Lord's wand had touched the wall, was a dark bronze oval with an ornate 'S' etched into its surface.
For the first time, the Dark Lord fixed his cold, unearthly stare on Rodolphus alone. He placed his wand back into the folds of his robe and said, "I think it only proper that we allow the lady to be tried first." He beckoned Bellatrix forward. She took a hesitant step away from the wall, towards the center of the circle, and tried to focus on the Dark Lord.
"You are Bellatrix Black?"
She nodded and met his gaze. Somehow, the fire in his eyes seemed to give her strength and confidence, and she replied, "Yes, my Lord." To her satisfaction, her voice was steady.
"Why have you come here?"
Bellatrix was confused, but then remembered what Dolohov and Mr. Lestrange had warned her about. These questions were no mere formality; she could be cast from the circle before she had the chance to prove herself if she wasn't careful. She took a deep breath that strained at the tight curves of her dress, peripherally aware of more than a few stares moving across her body. "My Lord, I have come here because…" She hated herself for hesitating. She needed to be cool and calm in front of men who had already proven themselves to the Dark Lord. "I—I wish to serve you. I wish to serve you as a Death Eater and dedicate my life to the cause of cleansing this world of worthless filth."
The Dark Lord gave no indication that this answer was satisfactory or unsatisfactory; his lips twitched unnervingly as he asked, "How is it that you come to know our cause?"
He had not ejected her from his presence yet, and that small fact gave Bellatrix some assurance. She straightened up and answered, "I have known no other cause, my Lord. All my life, I have been disgusted by the low, unworthy creatures that crawl the earth and rob us of our rightful place above them. All my life, I have desired to end such a shameful subversion of our ways. Until I learned of the Death Eaters from Rabastan Lestrange this summer, I did not know that an outlet for such desires existed." Bellatrix could not hide the proud smile twisting her lips. She had done well; she was sure of it.
But in the next moment, she was not so sure. The Dark Lord's next question caught her off guard: "What makes you believe you are worthy of entrance?"
Bellatrix opened her mouth, closed it, and twisted her fingers nervously behind her back. Taking time and great care with her words, she said, "My Lord, I have no doubts that I am worthy or serving you as closely as any Death Eater. I have power, magical skill beyond most my age. I want to learn the Dark Arts; I want to master them. There is no cause more important to me than this one. I come from a long line of purebloods—" here she smirked openly—"who can be traced back beyond the ages when we held our rightful place over the scum who now pretend to be our equals. I am ready, my Lord, to give my life and my skill to your service in furthering this cause."
For a few moments, the Dark Lord remained silent and motionless. Bellatrix waited, not breathing, her eyes wide and sparkling. Her pale cheeks were flushed with anticipation. Finally, the Dark Lord walked past her to the door he had revealed in the wall. He traced the tip of one finger down the center of the door and watched it creak slowly open, revealing only blackness beyond. The Dark Lord gestured to Bellatrix and nodded towards the gaping black hole. With a characteristic toss of her hair over her shoulder, she slipped past Rodolphus and stepped through the doorway.
Bellatrix took a deep breath and tried to gather her wits about her. Her heart was pounding, pulsing in her throat, and she barely heard the door click softly shut behind her. In the pitch blackness, she felt someone moving behind her. A ring of torches around the walls burst into crackling, flaming life, illuminating a smaller version of the cavern she had just left. She turned around and gazed up at the Dark Lord. He gave her a cold glance and walked past her. The brush of his cloak against her bare shoulders made her shudder.
"Bellatrix Black," he said softly, as though testing her name on his thin lips. "A good pureblood family with much history… and yet you are the first to come to me."
She breathed in sharply, ready to make a quick reply—and realized that, faced with the moment she had dreamed of for months, she had none.
He turned and faced her, beckoning her closer with a finger. She took an obliging step forward and lowered her gaze respectfully.
"No, no, Miss Black, I want you to look at me." She suddenly felt her head being forced upwards by an unseen force, dragging her dark eyes onto his. Her chin quivered as he asked, "Do you fear me?"
Bellatrix shook her head slowly, and for the first time, she found words to address him and him alone. "No. But my Lord… you will know if I lie."
"You come prepared, Miss Black." He chuckled mirthlessly, a strangely high-pitched laugh. "No, you are not afraid of me… though there is something else you are afraid of. Your own failure? My disapproval?" He glanced over her shoulder at the door behind her. "Certainly not the opinions of others. No, it is my opinion of you alone that gives you such fear, Miss Black."
Eager to prove her confidence, Bellatrix quietly said, "Please, my Lord, call me Bellatrix."
The Dark Lord closed his eyes and exhaled. "Bella…trix." He was silent for a moment, and she felt that same crawling sensation through her mind. This time, however, it lasted long enough that she was able to test the feeling, savor the sensation tingling in her scalp. Suddenly, it was gone, and her mind felt strangely incomplete without it.
Hesitatingly, she asked, "My Lord?"
He surveyed her, his scarlet-tinted eyes narrowing cryptically. Finally, he said, "Do you know who I am?"
The question caught her by surprise. Had she been tricked? No, none but the Dark Lord himself could have probed her mind so carefully. "You're… the Dark Lord."
He chuckled again. "So they call me, those who fear me. Those who serve me. But," he repeated, "do you know who I am?"
Wordlessly, Bellatrix shook her head, wondering if she had done something wrong already. The Dark Lord did not supply an answer to the question, instead staring off into the distance just above her head. "You have a certain… penchant, shall we say, for pain," he said, almost as if to himself. "For causing pain, certainly…. But what happens when you are on the receiving end?" He raised his wand suddenly, and she flinched. "I see," he hissed in amusement.
She felt shame course through her body. She had shown him fear. She, who had tried to practice the Cruciatus Curse on her own body, had shown weakness to the Dark Lord.
"You sought to prepare yourself," he whispered, his thin lips spreading into a malicious smile. "For what? Your own selfish pride?"
Bellatrix's cheeks burned crimson in her pale face, and she felt a tear pricking her eyelashes. "N-no, my Lord," she said softly, looking down at her shoes. "I wanted to make myself strong enough for you. If I'm not strong enough to taste pain and survive it, how can I cause such pain to those who truly deserve it?"
The Dark Lord tilted his head slightly and nodded once. "Then let us test your strength. Crucio!"
Bellatrix had less than a second to react before the curse hit her body. She gritted her teeth against the pain she knew was coming, but all her study and practice could not have prepared her for the onslaught of agony. She felt, rather than saw, the jet of light slam into her stomach. Fire spread through her limbs, bursting inside her head and shattering her thoughts and the grip of her jaw. A breathless scream ripped from her lips as her knees buckled and she fell to the ground, writhing. Her throat burned and her body twisted uncontrollably as excruciating pain tore through her. Her screams echoed off the cold stone walls, and she knew the pain would never end.
And suddenly it did. It took Bellatrix's body a few seconds to realize that her veins no longer burned. She lay on the ground, breathing heavily, blinking to bring focus back into her vision. Her cheek was slimy and wet, and she realized she had cut it on the rough stone floor—the only visible scar of her ordeal. She struggled to lift her head from the ground and looked up at the Dark Lord through hazy eyes.
"I want you to learn this," he whispered, his eyes boring into hers. "I want you to wield this power over the scum of the earth and torture them into oblivion—if you are capable." His stare held a malevolent red glow. "Do you know what it takes to cast this curse, Bella? Do you understand the anger, the hatred, the pure desire that you have to build to be able to control such force?" He took a step towards her. "Stand up, Bella."
Bellatrix pushed herself up by her elbows and struggled to regain strength in her legs. Her knees shook, and she sank back to the floor.
"I said stand up! Crucio!"
The same white-hot force knocked her back onto the ground. Her yells were rougher now, hoarser. Fire roared in the pit of her stomach and sliced through every nerve in her body. Her skin was being pierced, slashed from her bones by invisible knives. As the Dark Lord released her, she rolled over with a groan and retched emptily onto the stones. "Master," she rasped, licking her lips, "I will be strong enough for you."
He leaned down until his face was inches from hers. "Bella Black," he said, his voice cold and low, "do you know who I am?"
She closed her eyes and inhaled a slow, shuddering breath. "My Lord. My Master."
The Dark Lord's eyes widened slightly, glowing red. "I am Lord Voldemort."
Bellatrix didn't even hear the curse this time. She felt it stab her chest and shrieked as her consciousness ebbed away and his face faded into blackness.
-(Well. Ahem. Hello. I... am obviously very very embarrassed to be posting this so beyond my self-imposed due date. Life and college and things caught up to me, and I got into a lot of other writing projects that kept distracting me from this. The worst part is that I had about 90% of it written back in November, when I was home with The Dreaded Swine Flu, and then I just got stuck on this one part and couldn't get anything out. So, in closing, I apologize profusely for making you wait and missing all my deadlines. I know the ending is a little abrupt, but we'll find out more in the next chapter, and I wanted to make updating a priority.
I really, really hope there won't be such a long hiatus before the next chapter, but I have learned not to make promises about things like that. You should know, however, that this is the story I've wanted to write for years, and I'm not giving up on it. So even if I can't update this until the summer (not probable, but possible), it will be updated. That is a promise.
Anyway, I'd really like to know what you guys think of this. I feel like the Dark Lord is such a fragile character to write because everyone has their preconceived notions, and it's easy to mess that up. And I worry that Bellatrix got somewhat out of character.... At any rate, I would love and appreciate any and all constructive feedback. Tell me what worked, what didn't, what you'd like to see from the Death Eaters coming up... We've got one more chapter at the Lestranges, and then it's back to Hogwarts and I have no idea what happens there. So if you have a thought while you're reading this, please write it down in a review. It would mean a world and a half to me to know that people are still reading this after I've let them down on updating.
Once again, my sincerest apologies for the ridiculous delay in updating, and please leave a review. Thank you!)-
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