Fire

Chapter 3. “Lust is to the other passions what the nervous fluid is to life; it supports them all, lends strength to them all ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge, are all founded on lust.”
—Marquis De Sade

Rodolphus Lestrange found himself inexplicably staring at Bellatrix Black in potions the next day. She was concentrating on her work and would every so often run one of those long, blood-red nails of hers down the parchment as she checked the ingredient list against her supplies. Her dark black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she looked deceptively innocent — if one discounted she was dressed in Slytherin green and silver and if you didn’t catch a look in those midnight eyes. He doubted she’d looked innocent on the day she was born, when she first opened her eyes to the world.

Rodolphus scowled and tried to focus his attention on his own potion as he was fond of the subject. He was rather surprised Bellatrix enjoyed it — she was not known for the subtlety and patience the discipline required. Bellatrix Black did not strike him as a girl who would use poison if she wanted to kill you — she was more apt to tear your heart out in the Great Hall over breakfast. He surprised a grin.

He did not like her, not in the last. She was arrogant, malicious and an all-out bitch to just about everyone. She had been slightly friendly to that sister of hers that was a Ravenclaw, who had graduated a few years before, and positively awful to her cousin Sirius. Rodolphus knew her youngest sister was in a first year in their house — she had some ridiculous flower name that he was forever forgetting. It did not matter; Rodolphus did not associate with first year Slytherin girls. I do not share Walden McNair’s particular tastes in that department. As he remembered the little witch hexing him on the train their first day at school, his eyes narrowed on Bellatrix.

“You’re staring, Mate,” he heard a whisper next to him say, and he turned to glare at his lab partner. “I didn’t think you were a member of Bella’s fan club.” Rodolphus scowled at Thaddeus Nott.

“Unless the purpose is to see that bitch knocked down a peg or two, then no, I’m certainly not,” Rodolphus growled out, grabbing his mortar and pestle and grinding his herbs ferociously. Thaddeus looked at him with a raised brow but said nothing, returning his attention to his own potion. There was a slight murmur of conversation in the dungeon classroom as the students worked diligently on their potions. Old Mr. Callystone was half-deaf and his eyesight — ruined from years of billowing smoke — was not the best, making it easy to socialize even though seventh-year potions was incredibly difficult. Rodolphus did not fancy his potion exploding all over his robes as the thought of going to his father to ask for more put his teeth on edge.

Raban Lestrange was something of a wastrel, and Rodolphus and his brother had little control over the failing family fortune. Raban’s greatest loves were his whores and his thestral races, and the coffers were beginning to suffer. Sometimes Rodolphus wanted nothing more than to poison the useless bastard in his sleep and end the insufferable humiliation he felt at being forced to claim such a worthless excuse for a wizard as his sire. He shook himself slightly as he noticed he’d ground his flobberworms into a useless mush. It was best not to think the irritating Black girl or his father if he wanted to make it out of class without destroying something.

“Severus,” he heard a voice drawl in the back, “I would think even you wouldn’t be so stupid as to put that mandrake root in that mixture you’ve concocted, would you?”

Rodolphus, already on edge by the thoughts of his parents, snapped his head around and hissed, “For the love of Merlin, Bellatrix, shut the bloody hell up. No one thinks your constant prattle is at all entertaining.”

Silence permeated the dungeon as all the students fell quiet and stared at Rodolphus, who had made no effort to hush his voice. Old Mr. Callystone looked up briefly from the stack of papers he was grading, muttered something and returned his gaze to his desk. Rodolphus felt all the muscles in his body tense as if he were preparing for a fight — and indeed, he most likely was.

Bellatrix turned her head in his direction slowly, her eyes alight with malice. Her face looked perfectly evil in the dim light of the dungeons, mouth twisted into an irritated scowl. Her body straightened in the chair, and she narrowed those glorious dark eyes at him. “What did you say, Lestrange?” she hissed, and he watched a flush climb up her cheekbones. The tell-tale mark of Black’s temper, he thought, irrationally pleased. That slow climbing flush usually means she’s going to do something for which she will get in trouble. He smiled cruelly at her.

“You heard me, Black. You’re such an insufferable bitch, I can’t imagine why Severus hasn’t used his extraordinary skills — far better than your own obviously mediocre talent — to poison you at lunch. God knows we’d all cheer if he did. Why, Snape might just win a special award to the school for that, wouldn’t you say, Mates?” Rodolphus did not take his eyes from his furious housemate, but in his peripheral vision he saw the reactions of the class — ranging from disbelief (mainly the Ravenclaws they shared the hour with) to amusement (he was fairly certain he wasn’t the only one who thought this of the school’s current reigning terror). The looks were nothing compared to the fury on her face, however, and he leaned back with a smirk to see what she would do.

Predictably, Bellatrix whipped out her wand and hissed, “Serpensortia,” and watched in glee while some of the Ravenclaws screeched and a fair few of the Slytherins hopped up on their chairs as the snake headed towards Rodolphus. “I hope it strikes you and kills you,” she said, her eyes sparkling in her ire.

Rodolphus laughed; he could not help the reaction. “So deadly serious, aren’t you, and all you can do is throw a snake at me?” He moved out of his seat and easily caught the serpent by its tail. He waved wand over it negligently as it attempted to strike him. If it were possible, his utterly uncaring attitude enraged Bellatrix further, and her face looked as flushed as if she had run the length of the castle and back. I should tell her that she’s ugly when she’s angry, Rodolphus thought with a smirk but did not say it. It wasn’t true, and there were many other things he could taunt her with that were.

“Well, Lestrange,” she said angrily, “I can’t very well throw the Cruciatus at you, now can I? I don’t fancy being sent to prison on your behalf.”

“You couldn’t cast Crucio if you’re life depended on it, Black,” he said and then heard someone clear their throat next to him.

“Mr. Lestrange, Miss Black, if you please. I will not have your ridiculous antics disrupting my classroom — was that a snake I saw you with, Mr. Lestrange?” Old Callystone’s voice rang with surprise.

“It was indeed,” Bellatrix said maliciously. “Quite horrid, really, of Mr. Lestrange to endanger us all in that fashion.” She smiled at their professor.

Their potions master narrowed his eyes and glared at them both. “Miss Black, I have not taught students longer than you have drawn breath in order to be easily taken in by such witless excuses.” Rodolphus snorted at this, but the professor shot him a glare as well. “And, Mr. Lestrange, I don’t know if threatening Miss Black’s life is quite the thing to do in class. You’re lucky she didn’t throw more than a poorly conjured serpent at you.”

Bellatrix muttered, “There was nothing poor about that serpent,” but Callystone swirled around and pointed a long, bony finger at her.

“Quiet, Miss Black. I’ve heard quite enough out of you as has your lab partner, I daresay.”

Severus Snape, who had the misfortune of being Bella’s partner, lowered his greasy head and flushed slightly. The slight, dark boy disliked attention called to him for any reason — no doubt why Bellatrix was taunting him. She hated the attention to be anywhere else than on her.

“I’ll see you both in detention this evening,” Callystone said tersely. “Do not be late.” He walked back to his desk and left his students in a bit of a shock that he had heard a word of the previous by-play between the two Slytherins. The old man was perhaps more aware of the goings-on in his classroom than his students had presupposed, and that was certainly an intriguing thought.

As they walked out of the classroom, Bellatrix walked up to him and leaned in close to his ear. “I’ll show you my skill with Crucio after detention, Lestrange, and you can tell me if you think it is up to par.”

Rodolphus suddenly hated himself for that traitorous rush of warmth to his loins at the feel of her breath on his sensitive inner ear, her husky dark voice alluring even as it repelled him with that slight twist of mania he could hear so clearly. “I’ll wait with baited breath, Bella darling,” he said sarcastically, and pushed her away.

Her laughter followed him as he walked to meet his brother in the Great Hall, and he tried to put the feel of her breath against his ear out of his mind. Hormones, he thought, and vowed to put the incident out of his mind.
******

Rodolphus found to his chagrin that he was unable to do that, however, and he remained restless the entire rest of the day, snapping at his brother and Nott for no apparent reason at dinner. Eventually, Rabastan and Thaddeus gave up their attempts to converse with him and conversed between themselves for the rest of dinner.

“Mate, you should just ignore Bellatrix,” a voice said cheerfully to his right, and Rodolphus looked up to see Regulus Black, Bellatrix’s cousin and Sirius’ younger brother, take a seat besides him on the bench.

“Sirius always used to say that matching tempers with that one could be the death of a man.” Regulus bit into his beef pasty, a pleased look on his face. Rodolphus arched a dark brow at his housemate but said nothing. Regulus was a fifth year who looked for any opportunity to ingratiate himself with his older and more popular classmates — a very Slytherin thing to do but tiresome. Especially when the last thing Rodolphus wanted to think about — much less talk about was Bellatrix Black.

“I’m off for detention,” Rodolphus muttered, nodding curtly at his brother and Nott before headed off to the dungeons.

The potions classroom looked much as it did during class, with old Callystone grading papers in his desk. Bellatrix was already there, scrubbing a cauldron with some strange piece of silver mesh and muttering under her breath.

“Ah, Mr. Lestrange. Please take a spot over by the sink with Miss Black. You’ll be cleaning out the cauldrons — no magic allowed, please. Perhaps you two can discuss your differences while you clean. I would be most upset if I had to have this discussion with you again.” Callystone stood at and fixed them both with a glare.

Throwing his bag down on his usual workstation, Rodolphus moved over to the sink and stood next to Bellatrix. He grabbed for one of the steel-mesh sponges and attacked a cauldron. “This one is a mess, it must be the one you use,” he muttered, and to his surprise, she laughed.

“How predictable, Lestrange,” she murmured, shooting him a look from her velvety black eyes. “I’m almost disappointed in you.”

He stared at her for a moment in amazement. “You look almost cheerful. Did you feast on human flesh for dinner?”

“Of course not,” she said with a smile that did not reach her eyes. Malice was still glittering in their obsidian depths, but he was fairly certain no other emotion was able to take residence around it. “I didn’t want to ruin my appetite.” The feral smile she gave him almost unnerved him, but he refused to let her see it.

They worked in silence, the dislike thick between them. Finally, Callystone stood and arched his back and fixed them both with a scowl. “I need to take a potion to the infirmary,” he said. “Finish those two cauldrons and be on your way. Do try to not kill each other while I’m gone,” he muttered and left them alone. His footsteps faded out of earshot, and when it was silent he turned to face Bellatrix, unsure of what he intended to do.

In the blink of an eye, Bellatrix dropped her cauldron, pulled out her wand and hissed “Crucio.” Rodolphus barely had time to take in the wicked smile on her face before he fell on the floor screaming as the pain washed over him.

I suppose she really does know the spell, he thought wildly, before the pain engulfed him and he could think no more.