Aptitude

Candlelight spilled from the ballroom onto the terrace where Bellatrix stood in the rapidly cooling evening watching the scene inside the long windows. She had refused to dance with her father, and no one else had asked her. Not that they knew she was here to ask. She stood just inside the shadows, the light almost touching her toes, listening to the shrieks of the younger children down in the dark grounds lit only by the full moon. A particularly loud cry sounded like Sirius.

'I'll get you for that, James, you dirty -' the furious voice was cut off in laughter and more delighted shrieking. Bellatrix almost wished she were young enough to go and join them. It was late. Dinner was over and a few of the elder guests had gone home, Professor Dumbledore among them, finally giving up on his valiant attempt to ignore the more blatant misbehaviour of some of the children, who had grown bolder as evening deepened into night and their parents retreated into the heavy golden air of the ballroom to dance and drink and laugh. The scent of the wisteria hung heavy on the air as Bellatrix stood in the darkness. She had not realised it would be like this, standing out on the terrace while the children played and the adults danced and everyone else had fun and she was too young and too old to belong. The boys didn't care, sprawled in the corner or dancing like idiots, and Andromeda was chatting to both Weasleys, who seemed rather to have taken her under their wing. Narcissa sat quietly near their parents, watching the scene, the good girl in her pale robes. On the other side of the room, Bellatrix spotted Lucius Malfoy, old enough now to be counted among the men, talking seriously to a group she didn't know. She fixed the image of his pale hair in her mind and closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed and she felt the pulse of her blood at her temples as she whispered,

'Imperio!'

Do it. Do it now. Leave them. Narcissa's watching you, I can see it. Go over and kiss her. Who cared about Azkaban? Do it. Do it for me NOW! She felt the odd beat in her chest again. NOW! But nothing happened. Lucius had not moved. She would feel it if he obeyed, she knew, she wasn't good enough not to. NOW!

Bellatrix opened her eyes. It had not worked, he had not moved. His silvery hair gleamed softly in the candlelight, curling down to brush the sharp line of his jaw. She drew in a deep breath and pushed the air down towards her diaphragm. Do it. Do it! NOW! NOW! NOW!

'It won't work.' Hardly a voice, just words that she heard in the darkness.

'What?'

'It doesn't work like that. You have to really mean it.'

'But I do!'

'Not in the right way, not for Imperius.'

He stepped out of darkness into the shadow. He wore a long black cloak and hood, well, she supposed that it was getting rather chilly, and she couldn't see his face, though she could have reached out her hand and touched it as he stood there.

'It's an Unforgivable Curse,' the voice continued. 'It needs intent.'

'But I did intend.'

'Not in the right way. You want him to kiss her as a favour to your sister. You are fond of her, you like him, she would be happy if he kissed her.' How did he know? She couldn't ask. Legilimency? Surely he couldn't see her well enough, it was far too dark, and she would know if he were really forcing it.

'You cannot make young Mr Malfoy bow to your will as a kindness to your sister, nor from mere curiosity. You must act upon him. You must want to control him, to force him to act despite his will whether he be for or against that action. Your will must dominate him for your purpose, and then you can make him kiss Narcissa.

'I wouldn't advise it.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Your first Imperius curse? He would feel it, no matter how much aptitude you showed to the task. It's best to practise upon a volunteer. I expect that he would let you, if you asked.' Let her? Lucius Malfoy would let her practise an Unforgivable Curse upon him?

'He'd,' she began to ask, and then realised. 'Aptitude! You think I have aptitude!'

'Oh yes,' a high, thin laugh. 'Everybody knows you have aptitude, Bella. Your youngest sister is so very pretty. Yes, my girl, you have aptitude, but you need intent. Squirrels in the school grounds? Avada Kedavra on the dragonflies at home? These will never give you the will that you require. A rat in your bed, now,; there you might succeed. Or try the Cruciatus Curse next time your cousin fires a dungbomb at your hair.

'You have to want an Unforgivable, Bellatrix; every part of you must want it. When you are more practised, you won't need to concentrate so hard, but for now, Bella, you must concentrate with all your soul and all your flesh, every ounce of your flesh, must know that you mean it.

'Of course, it helps if you know what it feels like.' He raised his right hand. 'You're sick!' She stepped back, looking wildly round to the lighted windows. I'll scream, she thought, I'll scream, but screams would be too late, and of course they could not see her through the windows where the reflection of the candlelight threw back the colours of the dance into the room.

'I'm not threatening you, Bella.' He held up his long, gloved hands and she saw that he was not holding a wand. If she could have seen his face - and she could see it, only she couldn't see - she would have thought that he was smiling gently, like a kindly teacher, like Professor Vindictus had smiled when she was a little girl. 'I'm making you an offer, not a threat. I could put you under Imperius, if you liked. Let you experience it for yourself. It's a most helpful part of the learning process and not necessarily ... unenjoyable.' So how could she help asking?

'What would you make me do?'

'Why, whatever you want. A dose of courage for desired deeds.' Now she knew that he was smiling, could hear it in the thin voice. 'You could kiss that boy, if you'd like?' She turned to the window again. Rodolphus Lestrange stood chatting idly to his brother, a slightly rakish grin on his long thin face. Bellatrix turned back to her cloaked instructor, biting her lip. I could, she thought, I really could! If I wanted to. 'Not that one,' said the man. 'He needs a less direct approach. Avery.'

'Avery?'

'He likes you.'

'He doesn't show it.'

'He's shy. And you rather like him, although he is, one must admit, a little less exciting than the other.

'How about a try? I shall not even make you move. Just ... feel it.' She nodded, saw the wand he now held, and she was happy. That was all, just warm and relaxed and happy. She sneezed, and was cold again.

'That was it? That was the Imperius curse?'

'Very light. You broke it with your sneeze. You should blow your nose.' A white handkerchief materialised in front of her and she took it gratefully. 'Yes, I let you feel that. A powerful wizard can conceal quite a heavy curse, if he has sufficient skill. Even this.' The warmth descended. The delightful warmth that ran over her arms and under her skin and wrapped her in a haze of certainty and surety and led her indoors, such a sensible, rational idea, indoors, and over to Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange - but you said not him, you said not him, I wouldn't - and she walked and it was as if she were floating, gliding, her robes flowing after her and she walked up to Rodolphus and said

'Would you mind getting me a drink, please, Rodolphus? I'm afraid they'll say I'm too young.' The warmth, the ease, the guiltless acquiescence to the gentle will that held her. A glass in her hand, cool, but pleasant, and bubbles against the roof of her mouth, and she saying brightly, 'Don't you think it's a marvellous party? I must go and talk to Avery.' Warmth, and amazement, and courage, and thank you, thank you for this, how could she have said no, and there was Avery, Avery in front of her, saying hello, his voice drifting in from far away and she was so brave and she would kiss him and ...

His hand was on the back of her head, stroking her long hair. No! He drew her towards him and she - No! You promised! You said I! - and she tried to move away but the happiness held her, the heavy beat of happiness that kept her there as she raged and fought and screamed against the happy soothing fingers in her brain and Avery bent his head and kissed her and she opened her eyes and he stood amazed with scarlet cheeks and she almost thought for a moment that he was going to cry, but he said, and it was his own voice and the happiness had gone from both of them, but still he said,

'Would, would you like to dance with me, Bellatrix?'

The other had gone, and it was only Avery before her. Bellatrix raised her black eyes to his, feeling his tentative fingers on her wrist, fighting through her rage to see him, to feel his touch, fighting through her humiliation at her stupidity and his arrogance - He tricked me, he tricked me! - and she said yes. She did want to dance. He had given her that at least, that Avery had asked her himself and she had said yes. She would dance. But first ... first she would make the other pay.