An Arrangement of Sorts

An Arrangement of Sorts

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind/And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind."

-Helena, A Midsummer Night's Dream, 1.1.234-235

Sixteen-year-old Bellatrix Black sat at her vanity in a tower of the Black Mansion. She brushed her long, elegantly glossy black hair and sighed outwardly. Tonight would be another endless night of waltzing and dining, of gossiping and talk of the Dark Lord and his plans. But it was just that. Talk.

The mirror reflected a Black beauty, complete with attractive feminine curves and dark grey eyes. Of the sisters, Bella was by far the prettiest, and it was well known that she was her parents' favorite. Because of this, her ego was sky-high and the responsibilities placed on her were extreme. That was why this night was so important; it would prove to society that she was worthy of the Dark Lord's call. Carrying on the Black honour was a gift, as Mother always stressed.

"Bella, stop fretting so. You're God's gift to the Black household," drawled her older sister Andromeda from the mahogany bed. As much as Bellatrix was beautiful, Andromeda was intelligent. Her glassy jade eyes had drifted from the book in her hands to Bella.

"But this has been planned for weeks. Honestly, Andri, if Mother and Father weren't so persistent in this, I wouldn't be doing this at all." As she rose from the vanity, her long midnight-blue dress swirled around her like a fountain. Bella, however, was not made of marble: she more resembled a darker-skinned goddess Venus.

"It's another party. There'll be more come next summer, I guarantee it."

"I suppose you're right."

"Trixie, I'm always right."

Fwoosh. A satin pillow flew across the room and narrowly missed Andromeda's head. Both girls giggled at Bella's shoddy throwing abilities.

All silliness aside, Andromeda continued. "I heard of a certain boy you are to meet tonight. Or, boys, rather. Suitors."

Bellatrix groaned.

Her sister, pushing aside a wayward lock of her honey-blonde hair, chatted happily about the young men lined up to greet and dine with her. Unlike Bellatrix, Andromeda would never have to worry about an arranged marriage. It was clear to all that Andromeda...was just not the marrying type. Their father made it clear each and every day that Andromeda was a disgrace. Perhaps that was why he was hell-bent on marrying-off Bella.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy the company of a certain Severus Snape. His hair is the greasiest thing imaginable. And Raphael Nott? A chronic nose-picker. Just be sure to steer clear of him at dinner."

Lovely. A nose-picker for a planned boyfriend. Not nearly as bad as Lucius Malfoy, though. He was nearly triple Bella's age and conducted himself in the most arrogant manner possible. Some day, if he ever squeezed her rear doing a Romanian folkdance again, she'd pull his long, witch-like hair out of his skull, hair by hair.

"And, of course, there is that Lestrange gentleman." Andromeda finished her ramblings mysteriously.

"Stop teasing me, Andri. You know I detest secrets."

"I'm not teasing. No one knows much about him, really. I tried pulling out the details from Mother, but even she doesn't know. Try asking Father. He never speaks to me."

Casper had never quite forgiven his daughter for not protesting after being placed in Hufflepuff in her first year. Six years hadn't changed this. Her views on muggles and the muggle-born were much too liberal for Slytherin, anyhow.

Bellatrix was going to open her mouth to reply smartly, but Lottie, the family house-elf, burst into the room before she could utter a syllable.

"Mistress Andromeda! Mistress Bellatrix! The party is to begin."

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Bellatrix swept out of the room like a hurricane heading towards shore. Ambling behind her came Andromeda.