The Dawning of the Dark

The Dawning of the Dark
~ by Chthonia ~

Lucius Malfoy was an insufferable prig.

Unfortunately, he was also a prefect.

And, even more unfortunately, he was standing right in Bellatrix's path.

She glared at the silver-blond hair hanging in an impeccably neat braid down his back. But before she could melt away into the shadows, he turned.

"Well, well. Bellatrix Black. And what would you be doing wandering about in the dark?"

As if a mere fifth year had any right to speak to her like that!

She swung her long black hair back over her shoulders. "I really don't think that's any of your business, Malfoy."

He raised one pale eyebrow and looked pointedly at the Moke-skin bag in her left hand.

"And I really must disagree. You see, I, unlike you, am a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the right to be out at night. More than a right – a duty."

Morrighan, he was insufferable. Bellatrix never understood why none of the other Slytherin girls seemed to see it. Even her own sister...

"So your 'duty' to Dumbledore is more important than your loyalty to Slytherin?"

"But stopping you getting into trouble is a Slytherin duty, don't you think, Bella? What if one of the Gryffindor prefects had caught you?"

"Don't call me 'Bella'!"

"And don't tell me what to say! Especially when you won't tell me what you're doing!" He grinned. "Off to some illicit liaison, were we?"

Oh, if only he knew how right he was!

She tossed her head. "You're too young to understand."

"I am not too young!"

"Trust me, Malfoy: you are."

His face tightened. Suddenly his wand was pointing right between her eyes.

"Try me."

Bellatrix let her lips curve into a smile. Ah, now here was a challenge, an unexpected hint of granite in his mist-grey eyes! She had often mused on how much fun she could have with this haughty little idiot at her mercy in the Room of Requirement, but she had never before wanted it so much... Her gaze flickered over the slightly-flushed cheeks, the fierce scowl, the stray hair brushing his ear. Yes, perhaps Lucius Malfoy had potential after all...

She dropped her voice to a murmur. "No, Lucius," she said slowly, "I'm not going to tell you. But if you want me to show you..."

His wand quivered. He glanced down and she arched her back, not enough for him to notice, but more than enough for him to see. And when he raised his eyes to hers she could see the hunger in them, oh she could, and all he had to do was come to Bellatrix and she would sate that hunger, oh she would, she would take him and forge him and teach him the true nature of power...

She saw him bite his lip. Yes, she had hooked this cold-blooded silver fish. All she had to do now was reel in the line.

He stepped back.

"Well, well, Bella," he drawled. "I never knew you wanted to add me to your long list of conquests. But I'm afraid I must decline. I'm already busy tonight."

She stared at him. The arrogance, the presumption, the utter gall!

"Who said anything about wanting?" she snapped. "You were the one who asked – but if you don't want to know the answer, you'd better run along like a good little boy. You wouldn't want to keep her waiting, would you?"

His eyes were not granite or mist now, but a brewing storm.

"Or," she added sweetly, "it is a he?"

"What?"

"Oh, never mind. It's not as if I care."

No, all she cared about was getting the insolent prat out of her way. She was already late to meet the others.

But he was looking at her oddly.

"Maybe you should," he said.

"Should what?"

"Care."

"Why?"

"Well," he said loftily, "my father tells me that your father is looking to enter into negotiations about your future. Perhaps I might be persuaded to ask him to pursue the matter."

Incredulity broke through her languid façade. "You... you think you can just collect me like one of your trophies?"

"Oh, I wouldn't put it like that. A Malfoy-Black alliance could have its advantages, wouldn't you say?"

She laughed in his face. "You pretentious little snob! No, I will decide when it is time for me to marry, and when that time comes it will be someone of my choosing, not my father's. And I can tell you now, Lucius Malfoy, that I wouldn't even consider someone who needs his father to act for him!"

No, she needed someone who understood how true power ran so much deeper than the baubles and trappings that arrivistes like the Malfoys prized so highly. Someone strong enough to wield it. Someone worthy of respect.

Crimson fury erupted across Malfoy's pointed face. "Really? So which of your followers will it be, Bella? Some Mudblood like Andromeda's boyfriend?"

"That's a filthy lie!"

"Is it? You should see the way they look at each other in Ancient Runes."

"No Black would do such a thing!"

"Not even your Gryffindor cousin Sirius? Honestly, your family really is going to the Crups!"

"Don't you insult my family! My bloodline goes back hundreds of years before the Malfoys even set foot in this country!"

"Yes, yes, so you've said before." He raised his hand to his mouth to cover a yawn that was about as sincere as Dumbledore's smile. "Personally, I've always considered it an advantage to have family roots across Europe. It prevents one from becoming too... provincial."

"How dare you call me provincial, you insolent, arrogant, anaemic little freak!"

He stood rigidly still. "Oh dear, Bellatrix," he said icily. "Your social skills really could do with some work. You should take lessons from Narcissa."

"You keep your filthy hands off my sister!"

He shrugged. "I might consider it – if she keeps her hands off me."

Bellatrix lunged forward. But he grabbed her wrist and pushed her back against the wall, her wand trapped uselessly above her head.

He plucked it from her fingers. "Now, you weren't really going to use this, were you? I wouldn't want you to get into trouble."

"Give that back!" She tried to twist out of his grasp, but he wasn't as weak as he looked. After a minute of fruitless kicking and squirming she was reduced to glaring at him. His breathing echoed hers, hard and fast from the struggle.

"Let go of me," she snarled.

He grinned, eyes unnaturally bright. "But I thought this was the sort of game you liked, Bella."

"Don't call me 'Bella'!"

There were only two people who could make the shortened form of her name sing with all the dark beauty she knew she possessed, and Lucius Malfoy was definitely not one of them. But... she had an irrational urge to lean forward and bite down on those disdainful lips, to thrust her tongue into that sneering mouth and feel him fall helplessly into the mighty river of power that twisted round and through her, a deep, vital power that she would master, yes she would, because she was going to show the Lucius Malfoys of the world where they really stood.

He smirked. She glared at him with all the hauteur she possessed.

He released her and stepped back. She held out her hand.

"My wand, Malfoy."

He held it just out of her reach, his own wand poised. "Not just yet. I'm not going to give you control of a wand when you can't even control yourself."

"Give it to me, you little-"

She bit off her words. She could have cried with frustration, with the sheer indignity of not being able to grind the obnoxious little creep into the carpet as he deserved, but she would not give him the satisfaction.

She drew herself up so that she was almost as tall as he was.

"One day, Lucius Malfoy," she said coldly, "you will be very, very sorry that you dared to touch me."

"Oh? And what makes you think that?"

So, she had to show him to give her the respect she was due?

Bellatrix jerked her left sleeve up above her elbow and pushed her forearm towards him. The Dark Lord's Mark pulsed crimson against her pale skin.

He stared at it, and at her.

"You idiot," he hissed.

It was her turn to stare. She had expected fear, or at least the confusion that was such a fertile breeding ground for it. But he showed no trace of either.

Bellatrix felt a flicker of uncertainty. She stamped on it.

"You're the idiot, Malfoy. Don't you know what this is?"

"What are you trying to prove, Bellatrix? You flounce around the school revelling in the dark rumours you start about yourself – and now this. Do you want to end up in Azkaban?"

"Oh, no." She chuckled, letting the sound bubble up from deep within. "It's not me who'll end up in Azkaban. We're going to finish those Ministry blood traitors and their Mudblood pets! The Dark Lord is rising, and I will rise with Him!"

"Hmm. And does the Dark Lord approve of you blurting out his secrets to anyone you choose?"

"You know nothing about the Dark Lord!"

He shrugged. "Well, if I did, I'd hardly discuss it with someone as spectacularly indiscreet as you."

He was bluffing. The Malfoys never committed to anything worthwhile, everybody knew that.

But when their eyes met, she shivered. He smiled.

"Let me ask you a question," he said. "Who do you think would be more interested to know what you just told me: Dumbledore, or the Dark Lord?"

How dare he? She was supposed to be threatening him!

"No," he said. "I'm not sure either. So let's stop playing games, shall we?"

"You're the one playing games, Malfoy."

"Am I, Bella?"

She bristled at his insolent mangling of her name, but said nothing.

"So our resident prima donna has finally decided to listen to reason?"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"But I have a proposal for you. Don't you want to hear it?"

"So get on with it." She itched for her wand. He was infuriating.

And potentially dangerous. Bellatrix would not forget that again, no, indeed she would not.

"Good," he said. "Now, let's say I give you back your wand. And let's say that I even decide I'm no longer interested in where you're off to tonight. But if you try to undermine my position — or if I ever find you risking Slytherin's reputation in such a reckless manner again — I really will be compelled to say something."

"You really think you can threaten me?"

"I wouldn't dream of it. I'm merely pointing out the consequences. So do we have an understanding?"

Oh, she understood all right.

"Give me my wand," she said.

"You haven't answered my question."

"Yes, you smug little know-it-all, I heard you loud and clear. Now give me back my wand!"

"You need to learn more respect for your House prefect, Bellatrix."

"And you need to learn more respect for everyone!"

"I respect those worthy of respect," he said.

"As do I."

Their eyes locked, and for a moment she thought he was going to sneer at her again. But he merely shrugged – as if her respect counted for nothing after all – and handed her the wand.

She wiped it ostentatiously. "So aren't you going to go find someone else to harass?"

"No, I'll let you leave first. 'Witches before wizards', and all that. Or has your family given up on the traditional courtesies?"

"No, Malfoy, we have not," she said stiffly. "And I will therefore traditionally and courteously bid you good-night."

He nodded formally. "Good-night, then, Bellatrix."

She turned away. And whirled back.

"Obliviate!"

"Protego."

Her spell rebounded across the corridor. A suit of armour clattered to the floor.

"Dear me," he said, "you are being clumsy tonight. You'd better run along before someone comes to investigate."

She hurled him a furious glare and stalked off, head held high.

Did he suspect that she was about the Dark Lord's business tonight? Was he letting her go because of that – or in spite of it?

He wouldn't say anything to Dumbledore. He was still a Slytherin, when all was said and done. And it would be foolish in the extreme, if he really did mean to gain the favour of the Dark Lord.

But if word of this reached the Dark Lord...

Bellatrix had seen the Dark Lord's anger. She had no desire to feel it.

She quickened her pace. Rodolphus would know what to do. Rodolphus was her bedrock, never challenging her leadership but never yielding, either. And certainly never trying to put her down like that prize prig Malfoy.

She pushed Malfoy from her mind. One day, she would have her revenge.

And revenge would be sweet, oh it would...