Points of Contention

Points of Contention

Bellatrix Black scowls as she stands in front of the mirror. Brow furrowed, she tugs unpleasantly at the dress robes clinging to her body. She turns around and tries to view her backside. Still frowning, Bellatrix sighs and tears off the robes, tossing them onto the growing mountain of discarded silk on the floor. She disdainfully stares at the rejected robes. Did she honestly believe she would look good in crimson red or a midnight blue?

Shift hanging loosely on her frame, Bellatrix throws open her closet door, her eyes raking through the long row of dress robes hanging there.

There is a soft knock on the door. "Bella, are you done yet?"

Bellatrix fingers a silvery robe. "Narcissa, could you ever leave me alone? For once?"

The door inches open. Narcissa steps onto the plush carpet, not teetering the least bit in her heels. Her wispy blond hair is piled on her head, a golden crown atop a glowing queen. Her dress robes hug her contoured feminine form and trails down to the floor, a elegant swathe of silk following her. In her hand is perched a flute of champagne. Bellatrix notices her sister's usual pallid is lightly flushed.

Narcissa waves her free hand. "Mother wants to know. That's all."

"Well, I'm not done," Bellatrix snaps back, pointing to pile the floor. "See those?"

"Oh, but look at this one! It's such a lovely dark green. It would look wonderful on you, Bella - "

"Narcissa, could you please leave me alone?" Running a hand through her hair, Bellatrix rifles through her robes. "I think I'll wear...I'll wear this one." She pulls out a shimmering black robe and pulled it against her body. Clutching it tightly, she examines herself in front of the mirror and spins around. "Ooh, yes, I like this one."
"Bella, you're going to wear black? That's so - so - oh, Bella, this is a happy occasion. Purebloods don't wear black to this sort of thing. And black...it's so dull and boring. You'll not catch anyone's attention wearing that."

Rolling her eyes, Bellatrix pulls on the robe. "I'm not trying to seduce Lucius Malfoy, though, am I?"

"Well, he is terribly handsome," Narcissa giggles.

"He's got money, money, and - let me think, more money. You know, I wonder why Mother's letting you marry him after you leave Hogwarts. Anyway, go tell Mother I'm almost ready."

Narcissa giggles again as she leaves the room, shutting the door behind her. Biting her lower lip, Bellatrix straightens the robe and smoothes it out. For the first time all day, she smiles. She reaches for her hairbrush and runs it through her thick, coal-black hair, feeling the tickle on her neck as her locks brush past. When she looks into the mirror, she finds those familiar pools of sensuous black staring back at her, matched by her stunning black robe. Simply for good measure, Bellatrix pulls her bodice a bit lower, exposing the tops of her rounded breasts. The Blacks have never set much a store by modesty.

Smiling slightly, she slips on her shoes, makes her way downstairs, and joins her family and the guests at the two hundred fifty-sixth annual Black Gala. Raucous chatter fills the atmosphere, sprinkled with the clinking of wine glasses. Andromeda, her brown curls pulled back into a ponytail, is curled up in an armchair located in an obscure corner of the lounge, reading a book. Narcissa is, unsurprisingly, strolling around the Blacks' Rose Hill Manor with Lucius Malfoy, her hand resting in the crook of his elbow, her chin tipped high. The young couple approaches her.

"Bella, you've met Lucius before, haven't you?" Narcissa asks.

Bellatrix shakes her head upon hearing her sister's idiocy. "We were all at Hogwarts together, remember?"

"Oh." Narcissa blushes. "But do you two know each other?"

Lucius throws his fine silvery hair back in laughter. "Bellatrix Black? Not know Bellatrix Black? You were always the feisty little girl running around the Slytherin common room and jinxing everyone you could see."

She wrinkles her nose, liking him less and less as the seconds tick by. "I'm not a 'little girl.' I'm going into my fifth year!"

"Bellatrix: a fifth year? No, I'll can't see you in any way but as a first year."

"Piss off, Malfoy," she sneers.

Narcissa chuckles as she clutches onto her fiancée's arm for balance. Belatrix feels her muscles twitch. "Don't mind my sister, Lucius," she purrs, lovingly kissing his cheek. "Or her language."

"I am sure that I'll hear plenty more of it after we're married, dear." Bellatrix merely stands there, her hands itching for a wand - or, better yet, a punch to throw into both of their faces. "What's the matter, little Bella?" he teases.

Bellatrix turns and storms away as she hears Narcissa's tinkling laughter, joined by her fiancée's, penetrate the surrounding chatter. Her heels clicking furiously, she rages through one set of doors and another - and there is silence, broken only by her heavy breathing. She looks around the room she is in: the Blacks' private lounge, peppered with plush recliners and armchairs. Wallpaper gilded with gold, slate coffee tables - it is her bastion. Lucius would never find her here.

The doorknob rattles.

Rushing to the door, Bellatrix swears. She throws her entire weight onto it, forcing it shut. The door shudders against her as she leans into it and prays that he can't get in. With a sickening blow landing in her abdomen, Bellatrix is hurled acrss the room and crashes in the corner. Lucius walks in, a smirk growing on his face, his wand clutched in his hand.

Trying to regain her dignity, Bellatrix pulls herself to her feet. "What do you want with me after insulting me like that?"

He bows mockingly. "Just some idle conversation is all. Is that too much to ask for?"

Bellatrix is, oddly enough, aroused, either by curiosity or a certain something else that escapes words. "Go back to Narcissa. She's the one you're going to marry, after all."

"Purely out of duty, dear Bella," he says, walking into the room and taking a seat on a recliner. "Purely out of duty."

Against better judgment, Bellatrix joins him on the recliner and sits down next to him. "But Narcissa talks about you all the time at home. Are you...are you - "

"In love?" Lucius laughs. "Bellatrix, I expected more from you."

"What - what do you mean?"

His eyes danced. "Did you - do you think that Narcissa and I are in love?"

"It seemed that way. So, why don't you go now?"

"You don't want me here?"

"No."

Lucius laughs. "I like your brutal honesty. No, I don't want to rejoin my dear wife-to-be's company. Bellatrix, you've lived with her your entire life. I have known her personally for only a year or two, and already, she has proved to be a bore. A highly dull personality."

"You're going to marry her, though, right?"

"It isn't as if I have a choice. She comes from a good family - and so do you, Bellatrix - and she would be a good fuck." He watches on, amused, as Bellatrix pales. "What, don't want to discuss that last part?"

Regaining her composure, she scoffs, "Of course I don't. It's not - it's not proper."

"Have you ever thought about what it might be like?"

"Malfoy, I don't need to hear your filthy thoughts. Keep them to yourself or share them with Narcissa, but not me. I've got nothing to do with you, and you've got nothing to do with me."

"Ah, but that's where you're mistaken." Lucius lowers himself to the floor and kneels before her, cupping her hands in his. "I'll be your brother-in-law one day."

"And on that day, I'll drown myself in the bath."

"Then you will never be able to do it."

"Do what?" Lucius raises a provocative eyebrow. "Oh, bloody hell, is that what you're thinking about?"

"To think so otherwise would be a folly. Have you ever thought about it?"

"I don't see why you're asking me, you prat."

"Look at yourself, Bellatrix." With a strange feeling of disgust and intrigue, she notices his eyes settle on her deliberately low neckline. Standing up, her hands still locked in his, Lucius leans in, placing his mouth by her ear. "You cannot deny your own beauty."

She tries to act purely annoyed and shrugs him off. He moves his head away from hers, but he is still too close for her. It is the first time she has ever been able to examine his profile from up close. His eyes are a startling monochrome gray, both cloudy and clear. His flowing hair is pulled back, revealing a smoothly chiseled face. For a brief moment, Bellatrix can almost understand why Narcissa would want to marry someone like Lucius Malfoy. Then she recalls his scathing comments.

"Me, I'm not beautiful," she stammers. "Narcissa's the beautiful one. Andromeda's - she's got brown hair...I guess she's the sweetest one out of us all."
"What an interesting group of sisters you are. One blonde-haired, one brown-haired, and one black-haired. One beautiful, one sweet, and one..."

"Say what you're going to say," Bellatrix sighs, still wondering what Lucius is playing at.

He leans in again. His breath caresses her skin. "Passionate."

She is not sure of what she is supposed to think.

"Confused?" he ventures, grinning maliciously.

"What - what did you base that, er, that assessment on?" Bellatrix asks.

"You forget that we were at Hogwarts together, which is exactly what you brought up in front of your sister. We were in the same House for two years: I was just beginning my fifth year when you arrived, arrogant and flaunting the name of Black as much as it was possible. You were a spunky little first year. Very annoying, if I do say so myself.

"But you were smart. There is no denying that. Not only were you smart, but you were resourceful too. Smart, resourceful, and outspoken. Fiery."
"You flatter me, Malfoy," she retorts sarcastically. "So what are you trying to get at?"

"Whatever memory I have of you from Hogwarts was only an impression of you. I wonder, what is behind this impression? Will it different, or will it be the same?" He drops her hands. "I don't want Narcissa. I want you."

Bellatrix draws a sharp breath and gasps, but in that short time frame, Lucius has her pinned beneath him.

"No, no!" she screams. "Get off of me! I'll call for help, then they'll come and get me - "

He clamps a hand down over her flailing mouth. "They won't hear you; don't waste your breath. I've locked the door. No one will come for you."

Bellatrix bites his hand, and he retracts it, wincing in pain. She takes advantage of the moment to roar, "Then get the fuck off of me!" and to spit in his perfect face.

Neither of them move, both glaring at each other. Quite nonchalantly, Lucius wipes the spittle off his cheek. "Charm," he drawls. "This is why I want you."

"No, get off!" Mustering all of her strength, which is something quite formidable, she places her hands on his chest and pushes him off, but as Lucius tumbles to the floor, his foot becomes entangled in Bellatrix's robe and she falls too. They land in a heap of clothes and rage. "Get off!" she screams again, pummeling his body with her fists.

Instantly, his fingers snake around her arms, vice-like. Bellatrix wants to cry out in pain, but she is so consumed by his power that nothing but silent wails can issue from her mouth. Her arms locked, she does the one thing that is still available to her: she kicks him. With a groan, he falls backward and Bellatrix jumps to her feet, sprinting towards the door. She barely lays a hand on the doorknob when Lucius is standing next to her, a sardonic smile on his lips.

"Let me out," she demands, panting. "Let me out."

"Weren't you listening, Bella? It's locked."

"Let me out."

"No."

"Malfoy, you - "

He retrieves his wand. "Silencio!" He gloats as Bellatrix realizes she has temporarily lost the ability to speak. "Now that I have your attention, I'll say it again. The door is locked magically. A charm would easily unlock it, but you are still underage and, therefore, cannot perform magic. Don't try to run. You know that it won't work."

He undoes the spell. Bellatrix looks at him in terror. It is the first time she feels truly, truly afraid because she cannot understand what Lucius is capable of.

"Please," she begs, her voice cracking, "please don't."

Walking towards her, he sweeps her shaking form into his arms. His touch is deceptively gentle. She fights it; his grip on her grows tighter. Her chest constricts; wild thoughts run through her mind. He pulls her closer to him, running a cool finger down her now tear-stained cheek. His eyes boring into hers, Lucius makes himself very clear:

"I'll not leave without having you first."

Bodily, he drags her to the recliner, where they first sat, where Lucius discussing his marriage prospects with Narcissa, and now...

He lunges on top of her, hands tearing at the fragile fabric shielding Bellatrix's body as his lips work furiously against hers. Her nipples grow hard as they brush against him, and unbeknownst to her, Bellatrix moans quietly into his mouth, pleading for more. His mouth trails down her neck, conforming to each curve, peppering the tops of her breasts with light kisses. Not quite sure of what she is doing, Bellatrix wraps her arms around him and hugs him close. Her bosom rises and falls rapidly.

The splitting of cloth rips through the silence. Wearily, she watches the flimsy black robe as it flutters to the ground. She shivers against the clash of her skin and the still air. Her mouth struggles weakly to form into words, but she knows too well that he has her trapped, that it is hopeless. Biting her lip, she resorts to physical defense and jams her knee into his stomach; they fall to the floor again.

Lucius raises his face a foot above hers. "I like it better this way," he pants, lowering his head again.

Hungrily, Lucius preys on one of her breasts; Bellatrix shuts her eyes, fighting against the rising scream of pleasure within her. She won't give him the satisfaction of knowing that this pleases her because it doesn't. Yet she reaches down with one hand and tugs at his robes. Within seconds, it is gone. Within another few seconds, everything else that once clothed him is gone too.

He rams himself into her, and for the first time, she screams, her eyes still clenched, his hands running across her skin. Lucius is pulsating within her, she contracting around him, and when she at last dares to open her eyes, she sees her ravaged virginity stain the fluffy carpet, and she sees him pushing and thrusting, pushing and thrusting, pushing and -

A minute later, they lie, motionless, him on top of her, a stew of bodily fluids covering both their bodies. With a grunt, Lucius pulls himself up and hastily dresses. Laughing lightly, he views Bellatrix's broken body and the thick red blossom beneath her. Not moving, she tries not to let anything escape her lips. She silently damns the tears trickling down her face.

Lucius walks over to the door and magically unlocks it. Turning around, he looks at her one last time.

"I can see I have much to look forward to in Narcissa."

He leaves.