Her eyes had glittered when he asked her if she'd liked to learn from him. He'd been meticulous in combing through her mind before he'd asked. He'd been right about her, she was a dark creature, exceptionally witty and clever and charming. She was funny. She spoke of dealing death unto those she didn't like with astounding ease, as though it was the simplest thing in the world. He relished and delighted in her darkness. He'd make her shroud one so very impossible to distinguish to her enemies, her magic would be refined and refined until she was the most powerful dark witch of this age. She had a hunger in her, she wanted to consume and she devoured every thread of magic he bestowed upon her, every word, every lesson. It was all she'd ever wanted — to be more — and he used that to his advantage.
On their twelfth day of learning, he tried her hand at a duel once more. She was good, not as good as him, but he had lived experience on her. He'd stood with his hand around the hilt of his wand. She was starting to fight like c combatant — now she'd fought for her life a few times against him. She was good, excellent in fact — there was a reason she was captain of the duelling club. He'd thrown a barrage of curses, hexes and offence at her. He'd thrown her to the floor after his fifth barrage had finally made it through her shield. It knocked her to the ground and winded her.
"That looks like it hurt." He taunted lightly, twirling his wand in his fingers. He smiled to himself as she got up, refusing to back down. He turned from her, arms crossing over his white tunic once he rolled up his sleeves, yew wand still clutched in one hand. She wasn't done. She threw a hex at him and he deflected it with little more than a wordless mutter of magic. She threw another and it fizzled out and then he turned, brows raised, "I believe I won that one Miss Black. Our duel is done."
"You didn't disarm me." She insisted, "we're not done until you disarm me."
Curse, jinx, hex, jinx, offence, defence, defence, hex, jinx, curse.
He let out a laugh, surprisingly impressed and genuinely pleased by her willingness to fight on. He was enjoying this. It made him feel alive. Not much seemed capable of that. His last horcrux had torn some of the last parts of human feeling away from him. Emotions were useless no doubt but it seemed beyond strong powerful emotions, he couldn't feel much these days. No matter, it was all weakness anyway. He was stronger for it. He cast two more spells and she tried to figure out which was the weaker to block the stronger. She succeeded, earning herself a mild stinging hex as opposed to a broken bone.
"You've been practicing well." He commented lightly, minuscule twitches of his wand or flicks of his fingers — or sometimes neither — dissipating her magic into the air before he'd send back his own, "that book has proven useful."
Uncharted jinxes of Jupiter. The seasoned witch or wizard's guide to undetectable jinxes, she'd read. A jinx is a spell cast to cause damage or other negative effect. A jinx is similar to a curse, but typically not as powerful or cast with such negative intention. Jinxes are part of defensive magic, however, there are some jinxes which can have cause severe degrees of harm. Whilst most would prefer a hex or a curse to cause substantial damage, jinxes can aid the witch or wizard in stealthy matters. However, most jinxes are detectable and therefore easily removed. Jinxes of Jupiter explores the remit of undetectable jinxes so that a counter-jinx can not be placed to cure it, as well as how to overcome more complicated jinxes.'
Bellatrix had flicked through page after page and itched to cast everything in it. Gold Jinx. Anti-Disapparation Jinx. Extremity Jinx. Impediment Jinx. Brain Jinx. Revulsion Jinx. Snitch jinx. Stretching jinx. Trip Jinx. Blood Jinx. Her attention had caught on one she bookmarked to try for later. The blood jinx. Like curses, jinxes can be placed onto bloodlines for varying purposes and without aid in healing so that a person might be forever jinxed by it. The jinxes were complex and cruel. She read through jinxing a bloodline so they produced no male heirs to extinguish a name. She read about how extremist pureblood wizards were known to jinx squibs to stop them producing more children and diluting bloodlines, and most interestingly, about jinxing for certain blood statuses. Now however, she was using jinxes against him in a slew meant to harm his magical talents should they fall through. He was impressed at how fast she seemed to have learnt. Then again, Bellatrix had always been more a practical learner, being able to act with this kind of magic and no repercussion was seeing her develop into quite a ferocious witch.
"Very." She assented, casting another slew of nonverbal jinxes and hexes towards him and he, pushing back. She had a good rhythm, knowing when to parry, defend, offend and counter so as to keep her opponent on their toes. He doubted many of her classmates would win against her. He doubted many of his Knights would either. It was enjoyable watching her flourish like this, like watching an eager pup grow into a fine hunting dog. But his opponent was far cleverer than any of her peers, and she was far more than a dog to be trained. The rest perhaps were, but she was something else entirely.
Each exchange was perfect, clean and easy to see through for what it was, a set of spells that used only a fraction of her magical capacity. But he knew this duel wouldn't go on for much longer. She was wearing out against him. He smirked again, turning back towards her. The motion allowed her to continue. It was important to play his role well. This was a test of strength, of character. One day she would have her chance to show the entire Wizarding World how very dangerous she was. They would know one day what a dark witch Bellatrix Black was, and how far she would go to take down enemies of Lord Voldemort. She would be revered and formidable, she would be terrifying to her enemies and more so to her closest allies.
She moved with a nimble whip of her wand, but his finality cut clear. He flicked her wand from her hands and the burn which singed her throat threw her against the floor. He caught it deftly.
"Not terrible." He said, pacing forward, one hand tucking into the pocket of his simple cotton black breeches. He'd hardly broken a sweat. She stood again, grey eyes wild with exhilaration, her veins tingling with magic. The burn looked painful but she hardly seemed to notice it in the face of his feedback. She took her wand back when he offered it to her and feeling the familiar rush of warmth as his willingness placed magic back into her control. "That's enough for today."
"A little more." She pleaded and when he raised questioning brows to her knowing all too well what it was she was implying, she continued anyway, "please. I have so enjoyed these last few weeks under your instruction."
"I don't need to teach you how to duel anymore. The best practice you'll have is out in the world." He replied, "I have two more lessons I intend to teach you before you return to Hogwarts." He twirled his wand in his fingers. He had a habit of that, Bellatrix realised. Perhaps it was a comfort. A thin smile toyed his lips. "It is just a habit." He conceded, "those thoughts will be yours to conceal from me once and for all soon enough." He smiled as she tipped her head a little out of curiosity and he gestured her over, "come. I have somewhere I wish to take you."
She followed and once he stuck out his arm, she looped hers under to grip to his wrist tightly. He disapparated silently and when they came to, they were outside Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix gave him a questioning look. Were they meant to be here, she wondered? He began the walk and her fingers slipped from his arm. She followed along, the shadows cast from the imposing Malfoy Manor bringing a subtle chill to her skin. It was another ferociously hot day and since their lessons had begun they were now usually during the day. Bellatrix wore a pair of clinging but thin dragon-claw leggings and a simple cotton peasant blouse with fastenings at the top, her long shining hair tied back into a low bind, tressed pulled back from her face but spilling down her back. The Manor was cool, providing reprieve from the heat outside. The doors opened for him on demand and the house elf — a scraggly looking thing with rags for clothes — bowed so low his long crooked nose touched the floor. Voldemort paid it no mind and nor did Bellatrix. She followed him up the first staircase and the second, and through a long hall which bent right around and wrapped into a private wing.
Her barrage of mental questions remained unanswered until he gave a very complex swish of his wand and the wards came down, the door fizzling away into nothing, "I have a private wing here. I have no desire to make my own private residences known to anyone. Abraxas and his wife have been good enough to give me this space to work from, host meetings, so on."
"I understand." She said quietly as she followed him in, taking in the beautifully designed dark wood and simple dark dove walls. It had been strewn with a few oddities, dark magical artefacts, a few maps. It was the space of a man who had meticulously organised thoughts. It suited him, "it suits you."
"Dark and uninviting?" He asked, a hint of a smile on his lips as he tucked his hands to his pockets and appraised her.
She shook her head, her eyes falling to a strange confection of magical spheres which seemed to harness bubbling colours and hues like globes of the solar system, perfectly timed, intricate and — she smiled, "magical."
Voldemort pressed his lips to a line. He once again was reminded how very different to her peers she was. She was elegant in a way they were not, but she was all wildfire. She drank in every word, command and demand of magical practice like it was air and she followed through. She was exceptionally precise in the ways he taught her to be, and she never needed to be told something twice.
He gestured her over seats before an unlit fire, "come." With a wave of his hand, books came soaring from the shelves lines from floor to ceiling on the opposite wall and he took his seat. Three books landed neatly in his hands as she sat down too and he studied the covers for a moment, "three books. All on Occlumency. Take a look."
Bellatrix took the stack and sat back. The first was entitled a guide to protecting the mind.
Occlumency, she knew, was the act of magically closing one's mind against Legilimency. It would prevent a Legilimens from accessing one's thoughts and feelings, or influencing them. 'Meditative magic' was an old tradition the ancient seers of the house of Black had adopted to block out their minds from this world and focus on the stars. They would occlude for hours, lost in pathways only they knew. It was an old story Cygnus had told the girls when they were young, Bellatrix wondered whether there was truth to it.
"So far a majority of our teachings have been practical. Knowledge is an exceptional form of power. You like to read, I hope." He said, though it seemed not to be a question so much as a warning that she should be ready. His teachings wouldn't be easy as she knew. Bellatrix merely nodded answering a quiet 'yes my lord' while looking from him to the next book which was old and mottled grey-green leather and entitled, 'deceptio mentis'. Deception of the mind. She knew Latin well, she'd have no struggles if the rest of the book was in the ancient tongue. The last book had no title, it was a simple red hard bound book.
"Two more lessons." He reiterated. "Your first of the two — Occlumency — begins tomorrow morning at seven am."
—
Rain battered the windows of Lord Voldemort's private library in Malfoy Manor late into the afternoon of the last Saturday in July. Voldemort paced before Bellatrix, his wand tucked away, his hands clasped behind his back. He had tried — and failed — to breach her mind for the better part of a week now. She was occluding well after two weeks of practice.
She had learnt with repetitive intrusions and subsequently painstaking headaches, how to shield her mind. Lord Voldemort had not held back. He had torn her shields again and again, reminding her that any half decent legilimens wouldn't make him or herself known in her mind and she must constantly keep it guarded. So by day she had painted an ocean of stars and by night she had bought it to life, swimming in it, charting mysterious pathways that led to nowhere, foraging dreams and locking them away, creating maps in her mind only she could read that would be mazes to anyone else. He pushed her and pushed her until she began to hear his legilimency like a tapping on the door of her mind, until she recognised him even from cities away from one another.
By the time her mind no longer crumbled to his invasions and gave in to the force of him, she'd built worlds inside her head so he might find himself caught in a thunderstorm of stars if he tried to enter her mind, or get lost in forests, or drown in oceans — each as dark and celestial as both of her names.
"You've taken to occlumency well." He said, the compliment he offered cut short with the premise of his following question, "but there is far more to occlumency than merely keeping your mind guarded. After all, what exactly are you guarding your mind against?" He shot her a glance and raised his brows, "a legillimens, yes, but what else? What other uses could you have for occluding?"
"To deceive?" She whispered breathlessly, "trickery, deception—"
"Yes." He said with a hint of a smile, "yes. Exactly. To manipulate your own thoughts so even the most practiced legilimens won't know fact from fiction." He turned to face her and tipped his head a touch, instructing her easily, "you're going to show me what I'm looking for, but you're going to change it to something else. Something on the same vein but different enough whoever is in your head doesn't get what they want."
"How?" She asked, entirely unprepared for his onslaught to her mind as he suddenly barrelled into her mind. He was lost in the black ocean of stars for a moment before she — with effort — took down her shields.
Instantly, he began rifling through her thoughts, "use your imagination."
He plucked at a memory he wanted and drew it out.
Seven in the morning, the first day of her occlumency lessons. She knocked on the door to his office and heard footsteps from behind her. She turned on her heel to find Voldemort looking catastrophically handsome in a linen shirt and cotton trousers, his greying, thinning, wavy hair parted neatly and pulled back. He gestured her over, suggested they begin their day in the library where it was far cooler. It was already unfathomably hot, the summer's heatwave unrelenting. Bellatrix had opted for a short dress of jade green chiffon, her long shining waves bound back. He watched the memory replay from her mind, he could feel her uncertainty as he watched, unsure how to change this memory — not sure what to do. He watched as they entered his library instead of his office, the windows open. He listened to their chatter, watched how she perceived him through her eyes, how her mind had chosen to remember him, how every word he'd said was word for word in her memory, ingrained there deeply, stored protectively. Then he started talking about the kinds of magic he had learnt. Just before she'd asked him if he could possess people, she changed the conversation. Instead she asked him if he was enjoying his summer.
"Good girl." He muttered aloud, keeping focus on her, "keep going."
Bellatrix clenched her eyes shut and bought her hand to her forehead, thinking up a new conversation quickly — something believable but nothing incriminating as their original conversation had been. Instead of practicing occlumency they'd gone back downstairs and had breakfast together. It seemed too intimate, she realised before they'd entered the dining room, so her family were there too — as were the Malfoys seen as it was their house in which Lord Voldemort kept his offices. She pictured Lucius' face clearly as she made him sit beside her and made Voldemort engage in conversation elsewhere with Cygnus and Abraxas. She made her father ask her if she gave back the book she'd borrowed from his old friend, and made herself dutifully reply 'yes daddy'. She twist the memory entirely, to a family breakfast amongst friends, menial conversation, barely focussing on Lord Voldemort at all.
Voldemort withdrew from her mind and finally she opened her eyes, exhaling a breath she didn't know she was holding onto. He peered at her for a moment and then nodded once, "well done."
Relief washed over her in waves and she sighed, "that was. . ."
"Hard. Yes. I imagine so. Quite a clever diversion however, how did you get Abraxas' son's character down so well?"
"He's a good friend." She said, "I've known him since we were both children. We go to school together too, take all our classes together."
Voldemort nodded and turned his gaze to the window, watching rain batter at it. He contemplated not for the first time this summer that Bellatrix Black was no ordinary witch. He contemplated her exceptional nature with magic and charm and deception — how well she took to his instructions, how very little he had to do to bring out her worst inhibitions. She was dark, unashamedly so. He flicked his finger and the bottle of ogden's finest firewhiskey on the liquor cabinet's surface filled two glasses whilst he strode over to take them. She rubbed at her temples, the force which it took to conceive an entirely self-curated memory leaving her with a throbbing headache.
"We will keep practicing." He said, speaking softly as he returned to her side, holding the glass with a few fingers of whiskey in it out for her to take. She thanked him for it and took it as he continued, "I will teach you to scrub your mind of any and every heinous act you commit, so that even the best legillimens may ever know what you've done. So that your secrets may very well die with you."
Bellatrix sipped at her drink quietly and letting the firewhiskey scorch a path down from her tongue, her throat and to her stomach. It settled just behind her navel and felt warm there, the comfort of the flames making her sink back into her armchair. Summer was truly at its peak, though the air inside felt frightfully hot, the rain was cool and bought with it a much needed thunderstorm.
"May I ask?" She asked softly, "I know you need a spy, but why are you teaching me all of this?"
Voldemort contemplated her for a moment and sunk into his own chair opposite hers. He sighed through his nostrils, "one day Bellatrix, I intend to rule everything." He spoke so very casually, one may think he was drunk already and speaking nonsense. It was not nonsense.
Bellatrix studied his scarred face for a few moments and then nodded, "and I will help you achieve that."
He tipped his head a little, onyx eyes washing over her pretty face and down her slender neck, "will you? What do you want in return?"
"Freedom." She said simply, "I don't want to be a broodmare to make more pureblood babies."
Voldemort felt his impassive brows twitch. Pureblood witches were told their purpose from a young age — to create more pureblood heirs. He didn't like the idea of Bellatrix swollen with pregnancy, being burdened with a mewling little child, made to live a redundant life. She had so very much potential, she could very easily become the most powerful dark witch alive beneath his instruction. She deserved better than the burden of a life many other witches craved but that she simply did not. She deserved him.
"I can make you powerful, Bellatrix, but what I ask in return is not easy."
"I've already told you, my Lord," she breathed, "to the gateway of stars and beyond. I am willing."
"Could you kill?" He asked suddenly.
"Yes." She said without hesitation. She seemed to realise how fast she'd answered, for the flicker within her eyes showed her own surprise for a moment. It seemed to settle within her, the realisation that she could and would be ruthless if she wanted to be. She answered more firmly, "yes."
He smiled a little, inclining his head in a nod, "Then you are ready for your next lesson."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: we're finally getting to the juicy content. I've never been a patient enough writer for a slow burn but have every intention to get to the more intricate details (and shameless smut) of bellamort soon! please do review if you enjoyed :)