Aptitude

Bellatrix walked out of the ballroom into the black garden. The moon shone faintly through a cloud and she almost stumbled over her robes as she came raging onto the stone-flagged terrace, casting around for the man. Oh, when she found him ... She gripped her wand tightly and waited. She would wait, however long it took, she would wait for him to come and face her. Her breast seethed with anger and humiliation, but she waited. Somehow she knew that demanding he appear to her would not be a good idea. Down in the gardens, the children still played. She heard the sound of their footsteps as they ran and played without speaking, as if they did not want their parents to hear and remember them and take them away to bed. Bellatrix stood on the terrace and waited. She knew he would come back.

There was a rustle in the shadows by the east wing wall, and she whipped around, spitting with fury.

'What the hell was that?'

'That was the Imperius Curse, Bellatrix, didn't you like it?' That voice, measured, steady, dry as glass.

'That was not what you promised.'

'It was the Imperius Curse, Bellatrix. Not what you want, but my will.'

'It was not what we agreed!'

'Oh, we didn't agree anything. I said that I would let you kiss Avery and you acquiesced. I don't recall a binding magical contract.'

'We'll bloody well have one next time!'

'So you want a next time then?' Now the voice was amused. Bellatrix could have cursed herself; whatever had possessed her to say that? Yet she did want it.

'I ... You made me say that!'

'I assure you that I did not. It must have been your subconscious. You could learn from your cousin's books, my girl.'

'I'm certainly learning from you, you bastard.'

'You can start by learning that my parents were married,' he hissed. 'Now what's the next lesson? The Cruciatus Curse? Or shall we stick with Imperius?'

'Is that a threat?

'Is that a challenge?'

'Snake!' she spat, and turned away.

Nothing could have stopped her but what happened next. She stalked towards the ballroom, half expecting the lash of a stinging hex across her back at the very least, holding up her wand as if she might believe she could do anything against him, but no curse came. She neared the door, and then she heard his voice. He was laughing! It came as a slow, breathy chuckle, like the rustle of dead leaves.

'Yes,' he said. 'You really are a most perceptive young witch. I think I will teach you. You have aptitude, and hitherto a sad lack of opportunity for practical success. I think you would be a very worthwhile pupil.'

Bellatrix stood still. He was offering to teach her! She, Bellatrix Black could learn the Dark Arts from ... He hadn't said his name, but she knew it, everyone knew it. He was famous, the most remarkable wizard of the modern age, her parents said, more powerful even than Dumbledore. He was the man who believed in the pure-bloods, who would help them put the Wizarding World back as it ought to be if only they would follow him. Well, Bellatrix Black had never wanted to be a leader. She would be content to fulfil her own potential, and what better way than in the service of his cause, her parents' cause. She would be his most devoted pupil. Her heart thrilled. She had never dreamed of anything so wonderful. But she mustn't appear too eager, he mustn't think her no more than a silly little girl, willing to follow anyone who offered her attention. Besides, she was not quite sure ... in the hot thrilling fire that had leapt in her soul a little black flame shivered with fear.

'You would teach me the Dark Arts?'

'Yes.'

'I'll think about it.' She nodded towards the ballroom and continued glibly, 'I'll let you know what I decide. I said I'd dance with Avery, and I think Rodolphus might ask me, too. I'm really grateful - '

'Good.' She hesitated at the door, his voice seeming to freeze the air around her. 'You can be grateful for a bit more, too, and appreciate what I offer you.' He raised his wand and flung her forwards into the ballroom. 'Imperio!'

Bellatrix steadied herself on the doorpost, straightened up and looked about. The terrace behind her seemed deserted, and the adults in front were all too merrily engaged with their own affairs to notice her inelegant entrance. She settled the lace at her throat, brushed down her skirt and scanned the crowd for her sisters. Andromeda was nowhere to be seen, but Narcissa was chatting idly to Evan Rosier and couple of girls from her own year. Bellatrix might as well go and join them. She smiled over at her sister and began to make her way around the side of the dance floor towards Lucius Malfoy. The champagne had relaxed her, and she felt pleasantly at ease, far more so than earlier in the evening. This must be why grown-ups drink, she thought, it really does help. She wouldn't have another, though; she felt herself concentrating just a bit too much on where she put her feet as she wove between whispering couples and abandoned chairs towards where Lucius stood with his friends. She liked Lucius. He was really very good-looking, so tall, his white-blond hair like raw silk. She could ... NO! The realisation was like a cold knife in the back of her brain. He couldn't have! He couldn't have, I'd know! She must stop and think, and she kept walking. She couldn't stop. She opened her mouth to tell herself to stop, but no sound came out. The awakening chill of icy awareness in the back of her skull said, you know what he's doing. He's punishing you. He's teaching you. This is what a really skilled wizard can do with Imperius and you're still walking. Now that she knew she could almost feel it, that vague sourceless happiness that lay between her awareness of what she was doing and any will to prevent it. This was what he could teach her. But not Lucius, please! Her reason trapped in the back of her head was howling, No, no, please, not Lucius, not him, not him, even as she saw him turn and notice her and smile and she felt her face smile back and walked towards him and she would never be able to tell Narcissa why. It was the worst he could have done, because she would not be able to explain, not if she wanted the lessons, and she did. This man could teach her anything, everything. All those things the Ministry forbade, all those things that she could do if only someone would show her how, all that aptitude that she could use if she only had a chance, that he could teach her to unlock. Who cared about Azkaban, he was setting her free. But Lucius was standing there and - I won't, I won't, I WON'T ! And then she saw it, the glass in her right hand, the white linen cloth on the table beside her, and she raised her hand and brought the glass down hard on the table edge. It shattered, spilling the last drops of champagne out over the spotless fabric. The long shards of glass sparkled in the candlelight. How pretty, she thought, and dragged the jagged edge across her forearm.