Aptitude

Out on the terrace, the night had gathered under cloud and the wind had picked up, dissipating the scent of flowers and driving the children up towards the house.

'Hey, Bella!' A black-haired boy grinned at her, his hands full of what looked like muddy moss. They must have run out of dungbombs. Bellatrix didn't even go for her wand, just glared at him and whispered harshly,

'Drop it, Sirius,' and he did, opening his hands and letting the stuff fall and splatter on the stone flags. The long straight stairs descended before her so that she could barely see the ground at their foot. Behind her, James Potter protested at her cousin's lack of nerve, but Bellatrix did not turn round.

'Let's just go inside.' Sirius's voice was higher than usual; she heard a scuffle, and then silence. She was alone.

Out on the grass, Bellatrix pulled her robes tightly around her against the cold. She heard a snuffling sound behind her and jumped, but it was only a knarl, sniffing its way through the flowerbeds. She waited in silence, as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark and the night air crept through her thin robes as she hugged her elbows and would have rubbed her arms up and down to keep warm if she weren't trying to be dignified, and her left arm weren't still throbbing with pain. Despite herself, Bellatrix began to worry. What had she done? What had she done, so stubborn and proud and unthinking, what foolhardy risk had she taken? What if he didn't come? She had defied him. Perhaps he considered her ungrateful and unworthy. Yet a man like that, surely he wouldn't only want weaklings and sycophants? What use were crawlers and snivellers to him? He needed fighters, the cunning and the brave, the loyal and the strong. He would be her master because he was worthy and owed honour, not because she was weak. He would be her master and he would teach her. He didn't teach everyone. Lucius thought someone else had approached her, not the Dark Lord himself. Lucius didn't know she had broken the Dark Lord's Imperius Curse. No one would ever know that. No, already she could see that there would be many reasons not to boast of that. She would be discrete, and she would be true. She would serve him because he alone deserved what she could do, what the rest had tried to keep from her. She would owe him everything.

He wasn't coming.

'Master?' Her voice trembled in the darkness. There was the black flame again, tickling her throat, the thrill of wanting this and the fear. It was the fear that told her she was right.

'I said I'd let you know when I'd decided. Well, I have. If you are willing to teach me, then I'll learn, and I'll gladly call you Master. I'll learn everything you can teach me, and I'll do it better than anyone else you have, and I'll be your most faithful servant. If you won't teach me, I'll learn anyway. I failed before, but I know a bit more about it now. Then I'll come back to you and ask again. But I won't beg.' Her voice had steadied. She had decided, and if he wanted her he could take her on her terms. She let her arms fall to her sides, releasing her robes and feeling the cool breeze strike her. 'I'll learn, I'll be grateful, I'll serve; but I won't beg, and I won't be your slave. And you'll leave my little sister's affairs alone.'

'Believe me, I wouldn't touch her.' A hiss in the night. Bellatrix whirled around, her robes flying out, but she could see nothing. He wasn't there; it was just his voice beside her, whispering to her alone.

'You'd better not.'

'Is that a threat?'

'It's a promise.' She closed her eyes. She was being reckless. He made her reckless. It was that thrill, the little black dancing flame, the dizzying combination of fear and potential and power. She tensed herself for the blow, but he only laughed that thin, high laugh like a snake in dry grass.

'Do you want a binding magical contract?'

'I've changed my mind. That would bind me, too.'

'And you don't like being bound?'

'I think there's more strength in voluntary submission - to one who is worthy.'

'I could kill you now. I could make you beg me to kill you now. If you liked.' A band of cold air stole long thin fingers around her neck and she shivered. Her arm was hurting her again, the cold air nipping greedily at the wounded flesh.

'But you won't. You want to teach me. Everyone knows I can do it. I didn't realise that. They're waiting for me to do something. I think it ought to be something ... worthwhile.'

'And what is worthwhile, Bella?' She had wondered, but now she knew. It was so simple.

'Power,' she said. 'You.' His slow, sibilant answer stole into her ear,

'Yes.'

Bellatrix wandered back into the ballroom, closing the glass door behind her to shut out the chill from the night air. Rodolphus Lestrange was lounging against a pillar near the door; she caught Lucius Malfoy's eye as Rodolphus approached her and held out his hand.

'I wondered if you'd like to dance?' He was dark and thin, and, Bellatrix supposed, not so handsome as Lucius, but his darting eyes blazed with energy, and his mouth curved in a lopsided smile that it seemed to take all his willpower not to join with a wink.

'I'd love to,' she said, 'but do you mind waiting a bit? I really did promise Avery first.' She had, and promises were so important. Bravery should be rewarded, aptitude allowed to flourish, power, to delight. The rest was mere fun and games, but, thought Bellatrix, sauntering over to Avery as he stood on the edge of the dance floor, it seemed there could be more to fun and games than she had thought. The little black flame had been kindled, it licked at her heart and it would never go out. Besides, it was nice, having had one victory for the evening, to think that she might have aptitude for something else.