The Sugar Quill
Author: Grim Lupine  Story: Forbidden Love  Chapter: Unexpected Meeting
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.

It took Bellatrix several hours to get the cheeky Mudblood out of her head

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Well. I feel dumb. As one of my reviewers kindly pointed out to me, if Jonathan was Muggle-born, his dad very well couldn’t have taught him to control his magic, could he? Pretend I said half-blood. Thanks to PirateQueen for beta-ing.

It took Bellatrix several hours to get the cheeky Mudblood out of her head. No one had ever spoken to her like that, with amusement in his eyes, as if he knew something that she didn’t.

She fumed silently before convincing herself that he wasn’t worth her thoughts, and retreated to her room for the rest of the day.

The next morning she lazily reclined on the window seat in the kitchen, the sunlight dancing over her face and adding some color to her skin. She laid the tip of her quill between her lips, staring out the window in silence.

“Bella, dear,” her mother’s clear voice rang out from down the hall. With a sigh, the dark-haired girl set down her sketching pad and went in search of her mother.

Acacia Black was a tall woman, which added to her powerful personality. Her dark hair matched Bellatrix’s, her blue eyes were like Narcissa’s, and she had given her height to Andromeda. But they didn’t talk about Andromeda anymore.

“Bella, the Edgeworths are holding a party for their youngest daughter. She’s just been accepted into the Ministry. I need something to wear, and I have a dreadful headache. I would ask Cissa to get one for me, but,” she lowered her voice, “she’s in the middle of answering one of Lucius’ letters. They would make a fine match, and the Malfoys are a very powerful family.”

Bellatrix nodded, not altogether displeased. She had been getting restless, anyway. Even as a child she had never spent too long inside the house except in the winter.

“Do you have any particular color preference, mother?” she inquired.

“Something striking, dear,” her mother replied, arching her neck proudly. “The house of Black will be noticed.” Bellatrix nodded again and let herself out the door.

The path down to the center of the town was well worn and paved. Bellatrix walked gracefully down to the store, her head held high. The Blacks were well known in the town, and were regarded with a mixture of fear and respect.

The shrunken little woman who owned the shop hurried forward the moment Bellatrix entered.

“Miss Black,” she greeted. “What may I do for you today?”

“My mother needs a dress for a social gathering,” she said, her voice haughty. “Something out of the ordinary. I trust you saved her measurements from the last time she was here?” she asked, her tone indicating that she would not be pleased if the shopkeeper hadn’t.

“Of course,” the woman assured. She disappeared into the back of the shop for several moments, and came back with an assortment of gowns in her arms. One by one, she laid them out on a table, and beckoned Bellatrix closer. “Do any of these catch your eye, Miss Black?” she asked.

Bellatrix looked over the dresses, a bored expression on her face.

“This one will do,” she said, pointing at a dark blue dress with long, flowing sleeves and tiny jewels sewn at the neckline.

“Very good,” the shopkeeper said, waving her wand and vanishing the rest of the dresses. She moved up to the counter and laid the dress down, pausing to call over her shoulder, “Boy! Come here and take care of Miss Black.”

There was a loud noise in the back of the store, and a tall boy came forward, stumbling slightly while tucking a book into his jacket pocket. He smiled sheepishly at the shopkeeper and turned around to face Bellatrix.

Her eyes widened.

“You!” she hissed. A smile crossed his face.

“Me,” he agreed. He picked up the dress and checked the tag, writing something down. “Seventy-two galleons, ten sickles.” She poured some money into her hand and counted out the right amount. He took it from her with another smile, ignoring the fact that she did her best not to touch him as the money left her hand. “Bellatrix Black,” he said thoughtfully. “Pretty name. Can I call you Tinkerbell?”

“Kindly refrain from calling me anything at all,” she replied coldly, jerking the dress out of his hands.

“Well, that would pose some problems. I can’t very well shout out, ‘You, girl!’ in the middle of the town, can I?” he asked, brushing some hair out of his eyes.

“I meant don’t talk to me at all,” she said impatiently, attempting to freeze him with a look.

“There’s a leaf in your hair,” he said randomly, reaching a hand up to her head. She jumped as his fingers touched her scalp, leaving a warm feeling there. Glaring again, because she had nothing else to say, she forced herself to walk out of the shop with dignity and poise.

That was ruined when he called, “Come again, Tinkerbell!” as the door shut behind her.

 

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