AN: Dedicated to Little Emily, the first person to want a Bellatrix story ;)

Prologue

Bellatrix Black was eleven years old the first time she killed a man.

It was also the first time she met Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Stay there, Bellatrix," her mother Druella ordered. "I need to buy something from Borgin and Burke's. Don't go anywhere, is that clear?" She strode away, leaving her daughter standing at the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

They had come to Diagon Alley to buy Bellatrix robes for her impending arrival at Hogwarts. She was excited, but only vaguely, and storm-grey eyes that seemed to be perpetually mocking surveyed her less-than-savoury surroundings. Her tall, slender body was slouching against a brick wall. Waist-length glossy black hair was twisted up into a looped plait. A single strand framed her pale, angular features.

Bellatrix Black was striking. She might not be beautiful, like her youngest sister Narcissa, but her lips were a full dark red and she had the high hollow cheekbones of her family. She exuded the sort of graceful contempt that made people want her to think highly of them. Bellatrix was a Black, through and through, and as she stood looking down her nose at everything on a foggy Sunday morning she had the sudden feeling that she was not alone.

"Hey there, beautiful."

She pivoted around. There was a man leering at her, leaning on the wall beside her. Her nose wrinkled at the stench of Firewhiskey coming off his breath and she stepped away.

"Don't talk to me."

"Now that's no way to talk to a Bulstrode." He came even closer. Bellatrix stood her ground, her disinterested gaze roving over his unshaved stubble. He was most probably drunk and it wasn't even eleven a.m. yet. Her mother would have a coronary if she found her daughter talking to some tramp like this.

"I'm a Black," she returned. "Leave immediately, or I shall have to force you to do so." She wasn't afraid; for some reason, the emotion never seemed to manifest itself in her. Situations that usually meant fear just led to either anger or adrenaline.

So when the man pressed up against her and tried to shove his tongue into her mouth, she knew exactly what to do.

Her knee came up and Bellatrix aimed it at his crotch. He backed away, yowling, and she took the opportunity to crash into his body and send him toppling to the ground. His head cracked against the cobbles. She was stronger than she looked, and a combination of pain and drunkenness made him easy to take down. Blood trickled from under his hairline.

"Bravo, bravo!"

At the sound of slow clapping she jumped to her feet and whirled around. There was someone a few feet away. She couldn't see him very well through the grey gloom, so moved closer.

It was a boy.

He was an inch shorter than her and most probably the same age, that handful of years when girls are taller than boys. Inky hair as dark as hers brushed the collar of his expensive-looking shirt. His skin was slightly tanner than hers which made his brilliant blue eyes stand out.

She had to admit he was good-looking. For a boy. But then she was too, so she drew herself up and sneered.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Rodolphus, at your service," he said with a bow that seemed somehow to be taunting her. "And you must be the ever-lovely Bellatrix Black."

"How do you know?" she fired immediately.

"Your pendant," he said, his tone indicating it should have been obvious. "It has your coat-of-arms on it."

A slow flush worked its way over her ivory cheeks. She was mortified, which made her angrier.

"How long have you been watching?"

"Long enough," he said. "You know, I was waiting to see what you'd do to fend him off. I must say I'm impressed. I like a girl with spunk." He winked.

"If you'd been watching, you should have helped me. A gentleman would have helped," she snapped.

"I'm no gentleman," he said. "Don't you know who I am?"

She tilted her head. "No. Should I?"

He shrugged, giving her a humourless smile. "Most people do. Would it help if I said I had a younger brother called Rabastan?"

"Rabastan," she repeated. "Rabastan, Rodolphus...Lestrange?"

"The very same," he agreed.

Her eyes widened, shock overtaking her features. The Lestranges were well known in the circles her family ran in. Impeccably pureblooded, rich beyond measure, and then of course there was their father Richenmore Lestrange. He had been a great practitioner of the Dark Arts. Now in polite society the Lestranges were shunned out of a mixture of fear and awe.

Bellatrix wondered what he was doing here and opened her mouth to asked.

"I'm about to start at Hogwarts," he said as though he had read her mind. "Mother is busy at Flourish and Blott's so she told me to take a look around."

She nodded. Although she was fighting hard to keep her usual blankness on her face, she had always struggled with hiding her emotions and that difficulty felt magnified tenfold around him. Within the first few minutes of their meeting he had awoken one of her famous rages in her.

But if he was anything like his father, she would do best keeping her mouth shut and her head down. No matter how much it went against what she wanted to do.

Suddenly Bellatrix remembered the man who had accosted her. She knelt beside him, looking dispassionately at his face. Rodolphus put two fingers on the man's wrist.

"I think he's dead," he said. "You really hit him hard, and he cracked his skull on the cobblestones. We'll have to get rid of the body."

"We are not doing anything," she said sharply. "I am going to get rid of the body, and you are going to go back to watching innocent girls get assaulted by drunkards."

At that he laughed. "Innocent? You just killed someone! And what, pray tell, are you planning to do with the body?"

"I'll think of something," she said.

Rodolphus made a disbelieving noise low in his throat and folded his arms. "Alright. I'm waiting."

Bellatrix didn't want to tell him to go, because that proved his presence bothered her. Normally she would have had no such reservations. But she was dealing with a Lestrange here. The family name was even more infamous than her own, and she knew when she was dealing with a mouthful bigger than she could chew.

That didn't mean she had to accept his help.

She slid her hand into the front pocket of her robes where she had stashed her newly-bought wand. She might not have started at Hogwarts yet, but growing up in a magical family meant she knew her fair share of spells.

Rodolphus spoke as she extracted the wand. "You're not seventeen yet, you still have the Trace on you. Try again."

She flashed him a smile. "You don't know how the Trace works, do you?"

"It can tell when you use magic."

"It can tell when someone in the vicinity uses magic," she corrected. "Not necessarily you. And since Knockturn Alley is a hotbed of magic..."

"Genius," he breathed. A wide smile split his face, and she saw that he was impressed. Oddly it made her feel proud.

She used her wand to incinerate the corpse with a white-hot burst to flame. A pile of ashes drifted down to the ground, quickly swallowed up among the dirt already there and falling between the cracks.

"See?" she said smugly, looking up. But he was already gone.

First year

"Make it grow back!" Bellatrix shrieked.

The entire Charms class shifted in their seats, the better to view the live entertainment coming from a corner of the classroom. She heard people start chuckling and vowed to deal with them later.

But not before she'd murdered the boy standing in front of her.

"Oops," Rodolphus Lestrange said, grinning. "My wand appears to have slipped."

"You were meant to be cutting the rabbit's hair, not mine!" she hissed. Her gloriously long hair was now nearly as short as Rodolphus' own, and she was painfully aware that she looked a right fool.

And he'd done it on purpose, the insufferable, rude, arrogant, pompous little -

"Miss Black!" Professor Flitwick squeaked, and with dawning horror she realised she'd been broadcasting her mental slagging-off for the whole class to hear.

"Detention, Miss Black!" Flitwick ordered. "To Slughorn's office, now!"

That trademark smirk of his was the last thing she saw as she stomped out of the room. And, while she managed to make boils erupt on the faces of everyone who'd laughed at her, his looks mysteriously remained flawless.

She returned to the drawing board, and thus begun the epic battle of wits between Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange.

Second Year

"Isn't he adorable?" Moira Parkinson said, gazing at the creature in her hand.

Bellatrix squirmed. She hated spiders, especially ones that were the size of a small kitten and as repulsive as this one.

"I've seen more adorable Blast-Ended Skrewts," she said.

They were sitting around the fire in the Slytherin common room. The older years were all busy sitting end-of-year exams or cramming at the Library, hence why the two girls had managed to score such coveted seats. To Bellatrix's annoyance Rodolphus was there too. He lounged on an armchair as though it was a throne, surrounded by his friends.

His blue eyes flickered to the spider. "The teachers will have your head if they find out, you know," he said. "We aren't allowed in the Forbidden Forest."

"Who's going to tell?" Moira said challengingly, but she stood up and clucked her tongue. "Come along, Snookums. It's bedtime now."

"Snookums?" Bellatrix repeated disbelievingly. "You named that thing after a cute furry animal?"

"But it is cute and furry," Moira argued.

"Whatever. Just make sure I never see that thing again, or I won't be held accountable for my actions."

Rodolphus looked interested. "You're scared of spiders?"

"No," she snapped, aware that he would use anything he could against her.

He didn't look like he believed her, but she was resplendent in the knowledge that he could do nothing to her while in her dorms and put it out of her mind.

The next morning, most of Slytherin House was awoken by a terrified scream that echoed under the lake.

"What's wrong?" Head Boy Nott roared as he burst into the common room with his wand outstretched.

Bellatrix dived for his wand, wrested it from him and turned it on the furry object she had discovered in her bed that morning.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The spider fell to the floor.

"What the hell was that?" Nott asked, repulsed.

"The arachnidus monstrus," came a voice. "A baby one."

From among the crowd of pyjama-clad Slytherins watching at a safe distance, Rodolphus stepped out. He was the only one properly dressed. Bellatrix felt embarrassment as he took in her Hello Kitty nightgown. But it was quickly swallowed by anger, and she strode up to him to jab him in the chest with Nott's wand.

"You bastard! How did you get into the girls' dorms? And I swear, you'll bloody well regret this - "

"Enough," Nott said wearily. Most of the watchers had dispersed, seeing the drama was over. "Five points from Slytherin, Lestrange. The girl's reaction might have been amusing but that isn't a good enough excuse."

Bellatrix narrowed her flaming grey eyes at the Head Boy. "You think my reaction was amusing, do you, Nott? Will it be just as amusing when I have Father fire your older brother from the Ministry?"

He paled. "What? No, I didn't - "

"Good," she said. "You can go, then."

As she made to return to her dorms she was stopped by something Rodolphus said. "You know, if I'd fired someone every time someone took points from Slytherin because of me, most of the Ministry would be out of a job. There was no need to overreact. You tend to do that a lot."

His words would come back to haunt her, years later, but at twelve years old Bellatrix simply sneered. "You saint, you!"

She swept on up, conscious of his brilliant blue eyes drilling into her back.

Third Year

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange were both trying out for the open position of Keeper on the Slytherin Quidditch Team. Somehow word of this had gotten out and the stands were packed. They couldn't be in close quarters without something exploding - usually the volatile Bellatrix's temper. Rodolphus was better at keeping his cool.

"Right," Carrow, the Captain, said. "Black, you're over there. Lestrange, there. Right at the other end of the pitch."

"Go, Bella!" Moira yelled. Bellatrix smiled at her and fingered her new state-of-the-art Nimbus 1000. Irritatingly Rodolphus had the same broomstick.

Oh, well. It couldn't be helped. She mounted her broom and kicked off for the preliminary lap of the pitch, feeling the wind flow through her loose arrow-straight hair. It gleamed with midnight blue highlights in the sun.

Carrow had placed it so that Rodolphus was half a pitch in front of her, thereby finishing his lap before she would. She saw him glance back over his shoulder. Straight at her.

That was when she fell off.

Bellatrix yelled out in shock but had the presence of mind to grasp blindly onto the broom handle with one hand. She knew everyone's attention was riveted on her. Her body dangled from the Nimbus 1000 being buffeted by the wind. She couldn't - hold - on - much - longer -

She let go.

The ground rose up to meet her and she rolled, taking the impact. Someone helped her up.

"You alright?"

Carrow. She nodded. "Fine. I'll just have to restart my lap."

But he was shaking his head. "Sorry, but I can't do that. It wouldn't be fair."

"What?" she snarled."It wasn't my fault I fell off the broom! In fact, I have a pretty good idea just whose it was!"

The person in question landed beside them and smirked. "Bella, you can't come to Quidditch tryouts if you can't even stay on the broom!"

"Do. Not. Call. Me. Bella," she ground out. "And I know this is all your fault! I saw you look at me!" Her voice rose at the end.

"Look at you," he repeated. "Hmm, yes. I do believe I looked at you. I also looked at everyone else in the air, so how come they haven't humiliated themselves in front of the entire school?"

Bellatrix saw red. Coherent thought left her brain as she lunged at him. He was surprised enough that she managed to bowl him over, and they tumbled to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs, her nails scratching at every inch of him she could reach.

"Discedio!"

They flew apart, both panting. Rodolphus' face was covered in numerous scratches.

"I am disappointed in both of your conducts," Professor McGonagall said severely. "Fifty points from Slytherin, and you have been banned from partaking in any more tryouts this year!"

Back in their common room he spat at her, "I hope you're happy now, getting us banned from tryouts!"

"Me? You made my fall off my broom in the first place!"

And the bickering started all over again.

Fourth Year

He stole her first kiss, which was probably the worst out of all the things he had done that she would never forgive him for.

"What was that for?" More out of bemusement than pain, his hand came up to cradle his stinging cheek.

"You stole my first kiss!" she wailed. "It's meant to be special! You don't give it out to just anybody!"

"But I'm not just anybody," he said. "I'm your arch-nemesis for life, or had you forgotten?"

She scowled at the reminder of when her temper had snapped in class a few days ago. She'd stood up and screamed that Rodolphus Lestrange was her arch-nemesis for life and she goddamned hated the bloody git with a passion. It had been even more mortifying that he wasn't actually in said class with her.

"Besides," he continued, "if it makes you feel any better, it wasn't my first kiss."

"I know, and it doesn't," she said disgustedly. Just yesterday she had caught sight of him with his mouth pressed against that slag Lucy Yaxley's. It had inspired a surge of emotion within her that she rightly put down to distaste.

"Well, that's alright then," he said brightly. "Wanna snog again?"

"God, no. It was awful," she lied, although it had been... pleasant for the few seconds she'd allowed it before coming to her senses.

He simply grinned cockily. "That isn't what Lucy said. Or Hanna, or Juliet."

"You man-whore!" Bellatrix said, outraged. "Get the hell away from me, before I hex you!"

"Ah, don't be like that," he said. Then he saw her brandish her wand threateningly and backed away. "Okay, okay, I'm gone!"

When he had gone, Bellatrix delicately touched her fingers to her tingling - from revulsion, she assured herself - lips.

Fifth Year

Bellatrix would forevermore hold Rodolphus responsible for her utter failure in her Potions O.W.L.

Lionfish scale... Monkshood...

She sweated and strained over her cauldron. The clouds of multicoloured steam filling the dungeon meant very little was visible, apart from the shadowy figure of Rodolphus Lestrange situated directly in front of her. She rolled her eyes at this turn of bad luck and continued cutting the monkshood up.

Then she remembered that Rodolphus had the highest grade of the class in Potions.

Instantly she switched her attention to him and copied his every ingredient in the order he did it in. When she emerged, she was red-faced but confident of an O.

"Hey, Bella!"

Before she could upbraid him for using her nickname he carried on. "Did you get everything I did in there?" He raised a dark eyebrow, arm draped around one of the many floozies who had taken to following him around.

She stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is... I'm not above cutting off my nose to spite my face."

He walked away, and she only realised what he had meant when she looked at the T she had received for Potions.

Sixth Year

In sixth year Bellatrix started dating Dernier Selwyn.

He was passably good looking, even if he was boring, and she knew his blonde hair and grey eyes complimented her own looks perfectly. So what if there were stuffed pigs who could hold better conversation? She wasn't going out with him for his mouth skills in that particular area.

In sixth year she also seemed to clash with Rodolphus. As she had proclaimed when she was fourteen, the years had not dulled her absolute loathing of him, and it seemed every time her and Dernier were about to do anything he popped up. The fact that he usually popped up and interrupted by having dry sex with his latest flavour annoyed her to the extreme.

After all, she was a person of extremes, of careens and zigzags and opposite ends of the spectrum. He was as predictable as the day was long. What possible interest could a boy like him hold for a girl like her?

The last straw came when Rodolphus interrupted by swinging a fist at Dernier's jaw.

Her boyfriend staggered backward, giving a groan of pain. Bellatrix choked.

"What the hell did you just do that for?"

"He had his hand up your skirt!" Rodolphus snarled, uncharacteristically angry. "This isn't the time or place, and what kind of boy touches his girlfriend like that in public? Better still, what kind of girl lets herself be touched like that in public?"

His hypocrisy was so breathtaking Bellatrix was momentarily stunned into silence. Then she recovered.

"You... you little two-faced bastard! As if you haven't done worse with girls who weren't even your girlfriend! And," she made a show of looking around the deserted passageway, "what public, pray tell?"

His jaw knotted. "Selwyn's a coward."

She could have happily killed him there and then, but with a great force of her iron will she turned her head to look down at Selwyn's prone form. "Get up," she ordered. "We're leaving." When she saw Rodolphus open his mouth again, she shot him such a filthy look he shut it again.

Bellatrix continued to date Dernier for another two days. Then she paid a Ravenclaw to stick magically Photoshopped pictures of him kissing some blonde up around school, finding an irrefutable reason to break up with a very confused Dernier.

Seventh Year

When seventh year came around all hell broke loose.