Before her fall (first political meetings)
Before her fall (first political meetings)
Julia
pairing: Bellatrix/Voldemort
rating: PG
disclaimer: I don't own them, JKR does.
summary: first encounters, or, before Bellatrix relinquished her freedom. Late 1960s.
The dark red of the cushions is as old as the last redecoration of the room, but it feels familiar to Bellatrix's fingers- she played here as a toddler, when Aunt Walburga had not children and she was the apple of the whole family's eyes- and her aunt's still, after the birth of Andromeda. It seemed incongrous- a political meeting here, more or less like having as speaker Lucius. Regulus hid under that sofa, believing nobody would notice him, but she teases him with a hand, idly reaching the tousled hair just under the light barrier of the settee's arm. The boy jumps but stays silent. Good Black. And that's a thing she'd never do with her other cousin.
Lucius' tone is dreadfully boring and she finds herself looking at the other participants. Most of them are pending from his lips, as if he was spelling out for them some new kind of gospel. Bellatrix knows this Word from the cradle and before- it runs in her blood, she knows no other loyalty. There's another person on the sofa, a stranger by his dress, still and almost interested, at least following the basic structure of the speech to clap in the appropriate places- she doesn't care. Her wand hand bumps on his. He doesn't move away. He moves against it, like a small snake, sinewy and cold. Bellatrix frowns.
White and black, like old photos, with just the pale pink of the lips to give some innatural touch of colour above the line of his dark green cravate. She feels the cold of one ring, a black stone shining like liquid on the little lines of the back of his hands. The touch seems to tighten while the room goes noisy with the clapping of hands. Bellatrix looks at Lucius and he seems so impossibly young, real, flawed but alive, compared to the man at her right.
She doesn't feel the hand leaving her as the stranger stands up and thanks Lucius for his contribution to the cause. Lucius looks at his feet, almost shy. "I also would like to thank my hostess and all the other members of the House of Black, Master Black and young Regulus, who chose to attend our meeting rather than play with boys of his age." Regulus emerges from the sofa, letting the man tousle his hair. Walburga calls for refreshment, the serious mood is broken into a trickling of small talk, around the orator and Bellatrix' sister.
People ignore the stranger, or, rather, feel intimidated enough by his presence. They steal glances at them as he stays just breathes from her. It's surreal. She feels for the first time his power and that makes her curious. His eyes are blacker than black for a second.
"So it's you."
"I could say the same. Walburga talked a lot about your abilities and your faith in the Cause."
"It's not a religion."
"But I am its Chosen One."
"Indeed." She doesn't want to seem too pliant, too adoring, too interested- that's not a Black's role. She doesn't want to think about the calculation in his eyes and the feeling that anyone, for him, is a pawn in his game- that spells ruins for her person as for anyone not so blind as to recognise it. She knows that she will fall for him but she wants to savour that last freedom before she let herself blend with the others, for once and for ever.
Julia
pairing: Bellatrix/Voldemort
rating: PG
disclaimer: I don't own them, JKR does.
summary: first encounters, or, before Bellatrix relinquished her freedom. Late 1960s.
The dark red of the cushions is as old as the last redecoration of the room, but it feels familiar to Bellatrix's fingers- she played here as a toddler, when Aunt Walburga had not children and she was the apple of the whole family's eyes- and her aunt's still, after the birth of Andromeda. It seemed incongrous- a political meeting here, more or less like having as speaker Lucius. Regulus hid under that sofa, believing nobody would notice him, but she teases him with a hand, idly reaching the tousled hair just under the light barrier of the settee's arm. The boy jumps but stays silent. Good Black. And that's a thing she'd never do with her other cousin.
Lucius' tone is dreadfully boring and she finds herself looking at the other participants. Most of them are pending from his lips, as if he was spelling out for them some new kind of gospel. Bellatrix knows this Word from the cradle and before- it runs in her blood, she knows no other loyalty. There's another person on the sofa, a stranger by his dress, still and almost interested, at least following the basic structure of the speech to clap in the appropriate places- she doesn't care. Her wand hand bumps on his. He doesn't move away. He moves against it, like a small snake, sinewy and cold. Bellatrix frowns.
White and black, like old photos, with just the pale pink of the lips to give some innatural touch of colour above the line of his dark green cravate. She feels the cold of one ring, a black stone shining like liquid on the little lines of the back of his hands. The touch seems to tighten while the room goes noisy with the clapping of hands. Bellatrix looks at Lucius and he seems so impossibly young, real, flawed but alive, compared to the man at her right.
She doesn't feel the hand leaving her as the stranger stands up and thanks Lucius for his contribution to the cause. Lucius looks at his feet, almost shy. "I also would like to thank my hostess and all the other members of the House of Black, Master Black and young Regulus, who chose to attend our meeting rather than play with boys of his age." Regulus emerges from the sofa, letting the man tousle his hair. Walburga calls for refreshment, the serious mood is broken into a trickling of small talk, around the orator and Bellatrix' sister.
People ignore the stranger, or, rather, feel intimidated enough by his presence. They steal glances at them as he stays just breathes from her. It's surreal. She feels for the first time his power and that makes her curious. His eyes are blacker than black for a second.
"So it's you."
"I could say the same. Walburga talked a lot about your abilities and your faith in the Cause."
"It's not a religion."
"But I am its Chosen One."
"Indeed." She doesn't want to seem too pliant, too adoring, too interested- that's not a Black's role. She doesn't want to think about the calculation in his eyes and the feeling that anyone, for him, is a pawn in his game- that spells ruins for her person as for anyone not so blind as to recognise it. She knows that she will fall for him but she wants to savour that last freedom before she let herself blend with the others, for once and for ever.