As she and her perfect posture loomed over him, he became aware of himself and his momentary lack of poise. He, too, stood up straight, feeling each bone of his back stack up upon one another so effortlessly, and ensured that the bangs of his freshly cut hair were not hanging over his face with a hand reaching up, each finger combing backwards along his scalp to place the blond locks that ran between them.
“I was only curious what you knew of them, but it seems you know enough,” he retorted ever so pointedly, his voice climbing slightly above the volume he had previously been disposed to. Lucius could tell that she had gone a bit elsewhere in her mind, and he waited for her to get back on the topic. Eyes remained on her, but ears still remained alert, listening cautiously for any footsteps or any whispers throughout the halls. Then, he continued, until his own voice had been interrupted by hers.
At the meeting of their eyes, he knew she had been thinking deeply, but whether it was about his predicament or some thoughts of her own about herself Lucius wouldn’t know. “Well, yes, I would be one of… one of his servants,” he started, avoiding further use of the words Death Eater, “that is what my father wishes of me.”
Her next question seemed to be asked so dreamily, as she was clearly caught up in her own thoughts, her own ideas about the Dark Lord and what he has done and will do. Lucius scoffed, stating, “bloody hell, I speak his name once or twice and that’s what you focus on? Stop swooning over the man, for Merlin’s sake, and listen to me for a second.” With a sigh, he went on to say, “no, I haven’t personally met him, I don’t think. However, I am certain he’s been in the manor once or twice, in my father’s study. I believe I’ve overheard my father speaking to him on many occasions, and I may have caught a glimpse or two at him as he left. Is that enough for your fantasizing of him, or do you want me to describe his voice so you can pretend to speak to him in bed tonight?”
It took him a few seconds to think about how to answer this next question, and he finally decided on telling her how the arrangement went down from the start. “Father was waiting on my answer, so, the other night I wrote him to give him one. I told him that if I were to do what he wishes and serve the Dark Lord, it would not be now. I told him I’d want to wait, and that after graduation I would do what I could to help.” Thinking of the letter made him anxious, wishing to play with his hear, or go back to tearing at the little parchment in his pocket, or fiddle with a ring. Instead, he took a breath, then added, “but I still did not agree to become a Death Eater then. I asked to wait until your sister, Narcissa, was out of school as well. I wouldn’t want myself in a position that would cause her stress or worry when she should be focusing on her schoolwork. Nor do I want any word of my affiliation with the Dark Lord to cause harm to here here. It’s a safe place for her, and I want it to remain as such.”
“I decided to push my final decision until then, but my father wrote another letter back. He said it was then when I would have to serve the Dark Lord, and that I had no choice. So, yes, I would have to become… a Death Eater, as soon as Narcissa graduates.” He couldn’t help but feel overcome with a feeling of regret, the same feeling as when he read his father’s letter; he was informed that the choice was no longer his, and it filled him with anxiety, remorse, and a whirlwind of other terrible feelings. “I plan to speak to him about it after term ends, to change his mind, and to let me be able to make the choice then. I need him to agree to let me make the decision, so as to not be forced into it when that time comes. I wish to choose for myself.”
When he felt his lower lip start to quiver he looked away from her, hiding the face that could show signs of those nasty feelings he was drowning in. To let anyone, especially someone like her, someone he thought to be so strong and sure of herself and her intentions, see any from of weakness from him would have been unbearably shameful. It was already bad enough to tell her of his uncertainties, something he had started to wish he hadn’t done. He attempted to gather himself, to put on a mask of stone-cold rigidity like she did so well, biting his quivering lip and recollecting himself before he could turn to face her.
“I thought I’d ask what you would do, well, if you were in my shoes.” He admitted weakly, visage remaining turned away from her.
Bellatrix snatched his wrist. Her eyes were like loose wires. “Watch your mouth,” she snapped. “You do no favour to yourself by belittling a man like that or a woman like myself,” she admonished. Being one of the Sacred 28 gave certain expectations. She heard rumours and mentions. Her father had briefly mentioned it to her, but solely in reference as a requirement of a husband. Bellatrix was not, in the view of her father, relevant to the cause save supporting a husband and raising proper children.
Bella longed to make the difference herself, husband or not. She knew Lucius was only lashing out because he was distraught, she could see it in his demeanour now. Bellatrix felt a bang of anger and relief wash over her. She was glad of him to have protected Narcissa, but Bella knew it wouldn’t last. But she felt burdened by her anger. She wasn’t truly mad at Lucius for not wanting to do something she didn’t fully want herself. But then again, perhaps the only part of her that didn’t want to join the Death Eaters was the part of her that her father had cultivated, the domestic woman. That was what angered her. That Lucius was being given an opportunity not directly presented to herself.
“I would do it,” she replied coolly. “Without doubt and without cowardice.” The promise of the being a servant of the Dark Lord yielded too much. Narcissa was safe within Hogwarts, but only as a docile watcher, like Bellatrix. Being attached to Lucius once he was with the Dark Lord gave Narcissa power, protection, it gave her everything that Bellatrix wanted for her youngest sister, for any member of her family. “Have you been listening to yourself speak?” her voice crackled just above a whisper. “You would aid the Dark Lord without reaping the benefits? What difference does a title make?”
Bellatrix’s hand loosened around Lucius’s wrist. Gently, she pushed up his cloak and sleeve. Her fingertips ghosted over her inside of his forearm. “I hear that they give you a mark of honour if he finds you worthy enough.” Her thumbs pressed lightly into his flesh, careful not to cause pain.
Bellatrix could recognize the cold look on his face. She knew it well herself. Anyone who endured parents like theirs did. She removed a hand from his arm and brought it to his face. Bella cupped his chin and focused his face on hers. Her thumb caressed his cheek. She knew then that as much as she cares for Lucius, she would always care more for her sisters. She knew that he was going to be put in danger, but it was for a worthy cause. And it would keep her sister safe. “Lucius,” she murmured. Her voice was firm with a dash of concern. Her thumb stopped on her cheek. “Two years is already much too much time for you to be wasting away in a rotten world.” She gave him a nod. “I want the decision to be yours of course, but I want to win this war. And you are already strong enough to be a valuable ally to his cause.”
