October 27, 1968
The entire past week had felt to Andromeda like being encased in a permanent fog. There were troubling lapses in memory for which she could not account. Even Professor McGonagall had taken her aside after class on Friday and asked if she would like to be checked over by Madam Pomfrey as a precaution. Thinking quickly, she feigned a croaky voice and cough, suggesting that a cold had disrupted her sleep, but that she would take some Pepperup Potion for it and recover over the weekend.
What she did not reveal was that she feared she might be affected by some sort of mind malady, which was not uncommon to members of the Black family. The sisters had been coached by their parents that this kind of thing needed to be treated with utmost secrecy. The so-called "insane" of the wizarding populace were often stuck in the Janus Thickey Ward of St. Mungo's, which was a less pleasant option than the private mind healers that the Blacks would employ. But still, Hogwarts wouldn't hesitate to admit her to the hospital if she confessed that she was losing her grip on reality. Andromeda didn't think she was at that stage yet, but she also didn't want anyone to suspect she was sicker than what she was letting on.
She'd also had the same dream of a strange house where a faceless man lurked in the shadows, multiple nights during the past week. There hadn't been any Seers in the Black line for several generations, and none in the Rosiers, but the dream didn't seem prophetic. If anything, it felt more like a memory. The man's crisp tailored suit and robes made him look like a professor, or perhaps one of her father's work colleagues. The notion that a friend of her father wanted to cause her harm was ridiculous, but a professor stalking her from the shadows was even more so. The only tall, well-dressed wizard she could think of at the moment was Professor Riddle. He was a demanding, but brilliant instructor who would be teaching her next term; thinking his name caused her head to pound even more. The man in her dream could just as likely be a half-giant, for all it mattered.
"Andie, you're coming shopping later, right?" asked Narcissa eagerly, divesting an orange of its peel with her manicured nails. "Bella will take us to the Apparition point after we finish up with brunch."
"I actually think I might be coming down with something. You and Bella should go without me."
"But it'll be so fun! Remember all the fun we had the last time we went shopping together?"
It had been less than a year ago when Druella had taken them on a shopping trip to Diagon Alley. In short, it had been a disaster. Their mother had booked an Icelandic mud treatment at the Mag-Aesthetician, and told them to be back in two hours. Andromeda wanted to buy a pair of jeans at Madam Malkin's, but Bella had stated that robes were good enough for witches to wear for centuries. Since Druella had put her in charge as the eldest, she had refused to hand over the pouch of galleons to Andie, who then pointed out that corsets were a muggle invention, yet Bella wore all kinds of leather ones over and under her dresses. She objected that Narcissa had been allowed to buy a pair of corduroy bellbottoms in the muggle style, but Bellatrix insisted that it was fine as they came with a woven acromantula silk sash. Narcissa giggled innocently as her sisters were ejected from the shop by Madam Malkin personally, for causing such a disturbance.
"Fun for you. And at least you two have Lucius and Rodolphus to take as your dates, who you've known for ages," countered Andie.
"Your date seems very nice. I think it's sweet that he's a bit shy, don't you?" asked Narcissa.
"I suppose," she mumbled.
A fifth-year Ravenclaw, Maximilian Flint, who had carried her books a couple times, was to be her date to the Ball. She accepted him because she was afraid that no one else would ask, even as she hoped that Ted Tonks would have plucked up the courage. But then something odd had happened in Transfiguration, the very same class when McGonagall had pulled her aside. Ted had dropped a note on her desk,
I thought you were different from the rest of your family. Guess I misjudged you.
It was a strange note to receive, as she had no recollection of any trouble in their friendship. She'd tried to find him after class ended, to no avail. An owl arrived from the girls' mother that same day, a rather cryptic note reminding Andie to be careful about the company she keeps. Had someone misinterpreted her closeness to Ted in Gobstones club, or the two of them walking arm and arm together between classes, and ratted her out? She also walked arm in arm with Emmeline and Mary, but then she was more open with expressing her affections than other purebloods who seemed to think touching someone would cause them to burst into flames like a phoenix. The Slytherin girls who detested her for her open-minded views had probably told Bella, who then told their parents. But why would Ted think he had misjudged her?
The situation with Ted and Maximilian would have been causing her far more grief if it hadn't been for her exhaustion. Instead, Andromeda turned the conversation right back to her sister, urging her to explain how she was attending the Ball in the first place.
"I wasn't aware that third-years could attend the Ball, Cissa. Did Lucius' father pull some strings?"
"The Malfoys are a very connected family, as you know, Andie," she rejoined, taking a sip from her mug of tea that was mostly milk and sugar. "I do hope that one day Papa will forgive Lucius' father for whatever mistake he made. Lucius still won't tell me what he did."
Andromeda sighed. She definitely couldn't be the one to inform Narcissa of that.
Bellatrix entered the Great Hall then, dressed in a black collared wool dress that hit just above the knee, cinched in by a leather corset, over which she had draped a sable fur coat that had been a gift from their grandma Irma. She had heavily lined her eyes with kohl, and a felt beret sat sideways atop her dark curls. Several heads turned as she made her way to the Slytherin table.
"Cissy! Finish up and I'll meet you outside," trilled Bellatrix. "Oh, hello, Rodolphus," she added as an afterthought, winking at the boy to whom she was still 'officially' betrothed, who looked a bit more enlivened by her appearance than his usual morose self as of late.
Mulciber whistled at Bella, and said loud enough to the boys sitting around him, "Damn, I'd love to book an hour with her, if you know what I mean."
Augustine Avery and Nick Nott immediately shot him a dirty look. Their Death Eater fathers had warned them both to avoid any interactions with Bellatrix Black except formal polite greetings, which they had thought odd, but not questioned. Vague instructions that had something to do with intel received from other Death Eaters, and sometimes the Dark Lord himself, wasn't anything new. Although, if Avery and Nott looked annoyed, Rodolphus was apoplectic.
"How dare you talk to Bellatrix that way! Pull anything like that again, Murray, and I'll hex so many boils on your face that you won't be able to breathe!" he snarled.
"Thanks, Dolph. But I can handle this." Bellatrix drew her wand and cast an orange hex that hit the boy squarely in the head before he could react with a protego. His hair was totally gone, aside from the word 'PIG' which was shaved into his scalp. The entire table went quiet. Fortunately, there were no professors around, and the Slytherin prefects wouldn't dare to dock points from their own House simply because Bellatrix Black cast a hex—she'd cast curses ten times more dangerous and gotten away with it—besides, this spell wasn't considered Dark. Not even swotty Alaric Crouch made a move to confront her.
Narcissa stood up then, immune to the melodrama and controversy that followed her older sister around. It was essentially part and parcel of being a Black at Hogwarts. The two witches held their heads high as they exited the Great Hall.
South Side, Diagon Alley, London
"Dears! It's been a veritable age," said Madam Linnea Tatting, who grinned from ear to ear as she saw the Black sisters enter her ritzy shop, Twillfitt and Tattings. The Blacks were powerful, discerning customers, and while it was always a delight for Linnea to help her clients find outfits that made them feel confident and brought out their unique beauty, her first thought was that their pockets were some of the deepest in Wizarding Britain.
"Can Crombie be offering the young Misses any tea or coffee?" squeaked a small elf.
Even the house-elves in the shop had refined airs and wore aprons, instead of the usual tattered rags that those in service of the old pureblood families wore only for propriety's sake.
"I'll have Earl Grey black with honey. My sister will have a cup of milk with two sugars and the tea bag dipped in for ten seconds," ordered Bellatrix.
The elf performed a curtsey, its long ears dragging comically low on the ground. "Crombie is pleased to serve."
"Thank you, Crombie," Narcissa said kindly.
"We require formal gowns for attending a Hogwarts Ball in four days," imparted Bellatrix to Linnea Tatting. "Do you have anything that might work off the rack with minimal alterations? We'd also pay any rush fees for custom work."
"We've received some lovely evening dresses from our sister boutique in Paris that we haven't even put on display yet. Very unique styles that can't be found anywhere else," she noted proudly, gesturing to the back of the shop floor, "I'll get you started with some different options. We'd be happy to have our best seamstresses work night and day for you two dears."
Bellatrix knew as soon as Narcissa began to squeal excitedly that there would probably not be anything off this particular rack that she would consider for herself. She saw layers of iridescent taffetas and shimmery silks in a variety of pastel and jewel tones. However, something on an adjacent rack caught her eye. Bellatrix reached for a black slinky dress with long sheer panelled mesh sleeves, and a vertical slit up the leg. "This one. It's perfect."
"Oh, I apologize wholeheartedly Miss Black, but this dress was set aside yesterday for another customer. Let me see…Ah yes, for a Miss Savanna Yaxley."
Bellatrix felt her magic surge up inside her; she wanted to send a curse flying into the wall.
"That whor- I mean, that's a horrible shame. I'll pay twice as much as the dress is worth. You'll sell it to me, right?"
Linnea Tatting's eyes narrowed. "Well, your family have been valued customers of Twillfit and Tattings for over four hundred years. But are you sure you wouldn't want to look around more first, dear?"
She did not want to lose the Blacks as customers over one dress, but she also got the feeling there was something else about the fact that the dress was being held by Savanna Yaxley that had made Bellatrix Black's temper flare. Miss Yaxley was also a regular customer, and her wedding dress was presently being designed for a hefty sum by Edmund Twillfit, who had shown Linnea the preliminary sketches. But she had thought there were three Black sisters, which would mean three wedding dresses in the coming years, and thrice the profit. These thoughts swirled in her head, prompting her to ask,
"Tell me, dear, I was under the assumption that there was a third Black sister?"
"Andromeda is a little under the weather. I'll let her borrow something from me. Maybe the dress you created for me to wear to the Goyle wedding two years ago. It'd be a shame to have it hanging unworn in my closet."
"Oh, I remember that dress! And your colouring and shape are both so similar. You could practically be twins."
"I'd really like to try this dress on, Madam Tatting," Bellatrix said sweetly, trying to recover from her previous slip up.
The shop owner led her over to the fitting room, in front of which was a small sitting area with two antique armchairs upholstered in pink toile fabric. On the matching pink ottoman, Crombie the house-elf had placed their teacups upon a tray of goblin-wrought silver, next to a small plate of lemon shortbread biscuits. Bellatrix turned her head as Narcissa did a little twirl on a raised platform in front of the wall-to-ceiling mirror. She had picked an age-appropriate robin's egg blue gown with a sweetheart bodice. A short while later, Bella emerged wearing the black dress, and even Madam Tatting voiced her approval while Narcissa oohed and awed. It was even more to her liking than it had been on the rack, and that settled the matter for Bellatrix.
Madam Tatting packaged their dresses carefully, and shrunk them into an expandable shopping bag to which she affixed a luxurious bow.
"I hope to see you lovely girls again soon! Do send my best to your mother."
9:00 pm, Dungeons
"Master?"
Tom looked up from his stack of half-graded essays to stare at Bellatrix, who was sitting next to him in his bed at Hogwarts, sketching something that looked like a star chart in her notebook. She had been uncharacteristically quiet this evening.
"Yes, Bella?
"I do apologize if I'm out of line, but I was thinking about what my sister said that Rodolphus told her... about those witches. I completely understand why he would try to embarrass you and make me feel jealous, of course, being such a lesser wizard to yourself, Master… Rodolphus did defend my honour earlier today, so I shouldn't talk too poorly of him. He threatened to hex Murray Mulciber with boils because he made an inappropriate comment toward me in the Great Hall."
"What did Mulciber say? Do I need to threaten the boy? His father has about the intelligence of a murtlap, and clearly, it's hereditary."
"Oh, that won't be necessary, my Lord. I hexed him myself."
"Well, alright. What would you like to know about those witches?"
"Everything."
Tom sighed, preparing to unburden himself. "As my future wife, I owe you honesty. When I returned to this country, I wasn't immediately successful with implementing my plans, even though I had learned a great deal of extraordinary magic… I slept with Cyra Parkinson around then; I don't remember how many times…Savanna Yaxley was different. Her family are loyal to me, and I considered her to be amusing company; I took her out to dinners and that sort of thing one does with a pureblood witch. It lasted a bit over a year, until six months ago when she got engaged. I think she hoped she could get me to change my mind about marriage. Obviously, my mind changed on that subject very recently, because I met you. She's quite the jealous and angry sort, and you probably don't want to ever run into her," he finished. Tom gulped, remembering his most recent unpleasant run-in with her at Malfoy Manor.
"I might have already done something to make her hate me. It was kind of silly," admitted Bellatrix.
"What do you mean?" Tom stroked her hair, then pressed his nose to her neck, nuzzling her there. He was intrigued, but his thoughts were entirely concentrated on the warmth of her skin.
"Well, there was a dress I saw today while shopping with Narcissa. I really wanted it. Madam Tatting said that it was being held for Savanna Yaxley. But I offered to buy it for twice as much."
"Why?" he rasped softly, his breath falling hot upon her neck.
"It's really pretty. And of course, I recognized her name and I thought that I couldn't let her have it." Bellatrix gave a manic little laugh, and flashed a devious smile at Tom, whose hands continued to rove upon her, stroking her arms, then her waist, and down her thighs.
"Well then you must put it on and show me, little witch," he said.
"Accio dress."
The shopping bag she'd brought with her back to Hogwarts flew into Professor Riddle's bedroom. Bella shifted herself out of the bed, stripped off her day dress so that she was standing only in her black lace undergarments, and carefully shimmied into the fancy gown.
"What do you think?" she asked.
Tom was certain that he had never been so affected by Bellatrix's beauty. She resembled both a pagan goddess of war and a glamorous femme fatale, especially with her curls hanging down her back. It was impossible for him to look away.
"Bella… you are stunning. The most beautiful, deadly siren."
"Thank you, Master."
"The dress hugs your body perfectly. It makes me terribly mad I won't be able to publicly claim you for another year. Those fools will all think Lestrange's son is the lucky one."
"I can't wait for you to claim me, to show them all that I belong to you," she assured him.
"I know, my loyal little one." He rose from the bed and stalked towards her, looping his arms around her waist from behind, and trailing his tongue along her neck, below her ear. He planted a wet, needy kiss that made her sputter and gasp as he applied just the faintest hint of pressure upon the skin, but not enough to burst the blood vessels of her neck.
"I think, Master if I may say something before you continue… I wanted to discuss what happened when you cursed me. I'm grateful for how you took care of me after. But I don't want to be scared of you taking things too far again. When there's a matter that concerns us both, I think I should be allowed to ask questions of you. I will always defer to your judgment and wisdom about everything else, as my husband and Master."
He looked into her mind with legilimency and saw only that she held him in the highest esteem, that she yearned for his happiness, and loved him unreservedly. It was almost too much for Tom to bear, and he instantly realized he had acted shamefully. She worshipped him and he repaid her by using the torture curse on her, and then giving her a mood-altering potion so that he could still use her body afterward for his own gratification.
"It wasn't my intent for you to pass out. I just…" What did he think? It was as if he had lost control and ceased to recognize that it was his Bella who was on the other end of his wand. "I lost control. And then I thought if I could justify what I did as an elaborate stunt, or a game…then I wouldn't need to feel guilty over it. It's very hard for me to apologize, Bella. I've done it only a few times in my life. But you're special to me, and I'm sincerely sorry I hurt you."
"Would you like me to do anything to please you, my Lord?" Bellatrix brushed her hand across his thigh as he continued to hold her.
"I don't deserve it. I've been awful to you, haven't I?"
"I've forgiven you, Master. And I do like receiving some pain, you know, as long as we discuss it before."
"I promise we'll negotiate future punishments before I administer them, Miss Black. But I believe that I should be the one to give you pleasure first, hm?"
"I won't say no to that."
"Take off your new dress, Bella. I'm afraid I could easily ruin it, with how worked up you're making me."
He began to kick off the casual slacks that he wore on weekends when he was not teaching. Playfully, he lifted her petite figure and dropped her so that she fell back onto the mattress. She laughed as she pulled the dress over her head, and Tom took out his wand to cast a spell that would banish it back to her shopping bag, perfectly folded.
Both felt relieved that they had cleared the air, and stared at each other with adoration and lust. Bellatrix knew that Tom was a cruel lover, but she couldn't fault him for being what he was; his cruelty made him a feared and powerful leader. She accepted this about him as she knew that he accepted her obsessive neuroses and cloyingness; simply being near to each other felt right in a way that little else in the world did.
Author's Note: Whooh, they cleared the air! Lemon coming up next chapter, then I will write the long-awaited Ball.
Also, I hate to beg for reviews, but it seems that enough people are silently engaging by reading the story, and it would mean so much if you were to just leave a super short itty bitty comment, if you have a moment to spare. Thanks!