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Bellatrix wasn’t quite sure what was happening.

She’d woken up and immediately knew that this day was going to be something different, there was something in the air, a sort of tension that she could feel building, but she had no idea why. 

And she was proven right as she walked through the Slytherin common room, through the Hogwarts corridors, through the Great Hall to get to breakfast. 

People were staring. 

And whispering. 

At her. 

Now, Bellatrix was a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and much more besides that so she was used to stares and whispers - they’d followed her all her life, it wasn’t unusual.

This was different though, they weren’t stares of awe, of respect, of fear, they were calculating, or confused, or something else she couldn’t quite name - they were stares that made Bellatrix more than aware that something was different, something had happened, and she wasn’t sure yet what it was.

She sank gracefully into her usual seat at the Slytherin table, surrounded by her small circle of friends, not revealing anything on her face, acting as if nothing whatsoever was wrong - this was a technique she often applied when in public to get people to stop staring at her, but it wasn’t as effective as usual today which couldn’t mean anything good. 

Bellatrix glanced over at Lucius Malfoy, who sat in the seat diagonally across from her and could always be counted on to know the school’s gossip. She raised an eyebrow at him and he got the message quickly, casting a subtle muffling charm around the group so they wouldn’t be heard by the others and turning to her with slight apprehension in his eyes. 

Oh dear - if Lucius was apprehensive, it meant it was something to do with one of her friends, or her family maybe, or… a very specific someone else. 

“There’s this rumour going around, Trix, and I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Lucius began, hesitatingly.

“Get on with it, Lucius,” was her reply, rolling her eyes because duh, obviously she wasn’t going to like it, that much was clear from the stares she’d been getting. 

“Right, sorry,” he apologised, and wow, it must be bad because Malfoys as a rule did not apologise, ever, “It’s just that… people have been saying that you’re - um, that is that you and… right so, they’ve been saying that -”

“Oh honestly, Malfoy,” a new voice cut in, sliding into the seat beside Bellatrix, the one that was usually occupied by Rabastan when he wasn’t in the hospital wing recovering from a bludger to the head like he was this morning. 

It was a voice that Bellatrix desperately didn’t want to hear, but also didn’t think she could live without - she pointedly kept her focus on Lucius, who was now staring intently down at his poached eggs, eyes wide. 

“They’ve been saying that we’re dating, Black,” said the voice calmly and Bellatrix’s head snapped to the left so quickly that her hair whipped into her face. 

“What?” she asked, certain she’d heard wrong, entirely taken aback - flabbergasted, really - staring into the green eyes of none other than Rita Skeeter. 

What the actual fuck?

No, she must have heard wrong, because why would Rita Skeeter, the woman who literally controlled the gossip scene, the woman who had hated her since they’d first met, why would she be so calm about the fact that the people - who, and this should be reiterated, Skeeter controlled - were spreading gossip that directly involved her, especially in this way.

Bellatrix didn’t understand, which didn’t happen often. 

This was probably the most confused she thought she’d ever been.

She still remembered when she first met Skeeter, and to be fair, it wasn’t like all that much time had passed, only around five years.

It was first year - obviously - and the new Slytherins had just been assigned their dormitories. 

There were five Slytherin girls in their year, so the dorms had been split into a two and a three, and Bellatrix had been put in the two with, you guessed it, Rita Skeeter. 

And Bellatrix wasn’t a particularly social person - how could she be? At that point, she’d spent the entirety of her life thus far at home, with only the house elves and her two sisters to speak to (she supposed she could speak to her parents but that would decidedly not end well for her) - and she was wary of letting anyone get too close to her, of letting anyone be ‘friends’ with her. 

She had planned to get to her room and pick a bed, unpack her things a bit, write a letter to her sisters and then go to bed, all without speaking to whoever her new roommate was. 

That was not how things had gone down. 

“Rita Skeeter,” her new roommate had introduced, holding out a hand to be shaken. 

“Bellatrix Black,” she had said in reply, ignoring the girl’s outstretched hand and moving towards the bed she wanted. 

She was a Black, she wouldn’t be caught dead shaking hands with someone as unimportant as this Skeeter witch, even if they were alone in their room - Skeeter was not a surname Bellatrix had ever heard before, meaning she wasn’t worthy of her attention, as per her parent’s lessons - and she had more important things to do than exchange small-talk with this stranger; Andy and Cissy would want to know that she had gotten into Slytherin (probably not a surprise, but still, important news). 

Obviously, Skeeter had not taken this well, starting to complain loudly (as if anyone was listening or cared) about Bellatrix and how her parents must not have taught her any manners until eventually Bellatrix was just as annoyed as Skeeter apparently was - no one insulted the Blacks, or at least not to their faces (except other Blacks, of course). 

She turned around and hexed Skeeter, nothing wildly painful but still, and said, “That’s something I learnt from my parents, and if I were you I’d stop talking now before I show you what else they’ve taught me”

Skeeter had stopped talking when the spell hit her, yelping in pain before her eyes narrowed, something calculating in that gaze and the two of them had been enemies ever since. 

In hindsight, their enmity was definitely Bellatrix’s fault, but in her defence, she was literally nine-hours by train away from everything she had ever known and loved and she hadn’t yet learnt how to pretend to be civil with people she thought were below her (she still hadn’t really learnt, so luckily she wasn’t expected to go into politics like her little cousin Sirius, the Heir Black) but she acted that way - stand-offish, aggressive, generally unpleasant - with nearly everyone and no one else had ever taken it as personally as Skeeter had. 

Also in hindsight, their little ‘disagreement’ was a stupid thing to start an entire rivalry on, and that was mostly Skeeter’s fault, but Bellatrix found she quite enjoyed having a nemesis as the years went by, probably far too much for it to be healthy - Rodolphus called it a ‘creepy obsession’ with that little knowing smile but Bellatrix didn’t particularly care.

In her own mind, never out loud, she could admit that maybe she just enjoyed having Skeeter’s attention on her, even if it was her hatred. 

Blacks didn’t apologise anyway, so if the rivalry was ever going to come to an end it would have to be Skeeter’s doing. Bellatrix didn’t think she really wanted it to come to an end though; it added excitement to her daily routine, something separate from schoolwork and her family and her friends - something different. 

For Bellatrix, the thing she had with Skeeter had started as just an annoyance, an insignificant witch making a nuisance of herself by trying to get in Bellatrix’s way. She had thought Skeeter would stop with her foolish attempts to get her attention after a few weeks of painful hexes and threats, like everyone else who bothered her at Hogwarts had, but to her great surprise, Bellatrix’s responses to her taunts and schemes only seemed to make Skeeter more determined. 

Then, it had developed; from annoyance to anger, because who did this witch think she was? Why did she think she had the right to take offence to anything Bellatrix, a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, said or did? Why did she think she deserved the privilege of Bellatrix’s time and attention? 

Skeeter wasn’t a pureblood, or she was but not one of the purebloods, proper purebloods - her great-grandparents on her father’s side were muggles, her wizarding lineage didn’t go back to before the founding of Hogwarts like Bellatrix’s did - she wasn’t anyone important, not a part of the Sacred 28, not even particularly wealthy, and Bellatrix was astounded at her audacity, to think she was even worthy of a proper fight. 

However, it soon became fairly clear that Skeeter wasn’t as worthless as Bellatrix’s upbringing dictated (and eventually Bellatrix realised that way she had been raised wasn’t infallible, didn’t apply to every situation) - Skeeter quickly took control of the gossip scene at Hogwarts, somehow knowing everything about everyone, even people six years older than her, people she had never spoken a word to. 

She started to wield quite a lot of power within the school, every single piece of gossip went through her first, she decided which secrets were going to come out, and when; she ruined lives with that power, starting scandals, causing drama. 

She became someone, not just an unimportant, insignificant witch who didn’t know her place; Bellatrix watched as she made her own place, firmly at the top of the school’s hierarchy, carving it out with her sharp tongue and her molotov cocktail of lies and truths. 

Bellatrix hated her, of course she did, but she respected her as well, because it was no small feat, what Skeeter had achieved, it was impressive, admirable - Skeeter demanded respect, so Bellatrix deigned to give it to her, and she thought that Skeeter respected her too, after a while. 

By the end of her first year, Bellatrix had made it clear that she was her own person, not just a spoilt girl hiding behind her family name - of course, she had her family to thank for her magical prowess and her, frankly absurdly extensive, knowledge of hexes and curses, but she wasn’t the sort of person who expected to be treated like she was better than everyone else just because of her name. 

No, she expected to be treated like she was better than everyone else because she was better than everyone else, or at least nearly everyone else, and she backed this up with her actions, demanding respect from everyone who interacted with her like Skeeter did, building a reputation for herself - based on her nasty spell repertoire rather not her knowledge of secrets like Skeeter’s was, but it was effective nevertheless. 

So, Bellatrix thought that Skeeter respected her - she wasn’t sure about ‘admired’, that was definitely more of a one sided thing on Bellatrix’s part - but respected, yes. That was why Bellatrix was never involved in the gossip scene - not that there was ever anything to gossip about, she was a Black and Blacks didn’t have public scandals, but Skeeter was more than capable of making things up if she wanted to, she had definitely done it more than once over the course of their time at Hogwarts, but she didn’t, not about Bellatrix. 

There was immunity there; Bellatrix, when she was feeling like lying to herself, thought that it was because Skeeter must have realised that she probably couldn’t come up with a rumour that would ever seriously affect Bellatrix’s reputation (because the majority of the students were terrified of her anyway), when she let herself be truthful or realistic, she thought it might be because Skeeter was aware of the power she held in terms of information and just didn’t want to destroy Bellatrix in that way. 

That was why Bellatrix had stopped using her curses and jinxes to attack Skeeter, it was boring, and she was always going to win every duel so there was no point. 

The rivalry between them was separate from all of that, by mutual understanding, mutual respect for the other’s skills - it was separate from Skeeter’s gossip, separate from Bellatrix’s spellfire - they got creative, inventive.

Most of the time. 

Obviously, their friends weren’t included in the immunity between the two witches, so sometimes they would try to get to each other that way. 

Skeeter would put the gossip scene to work on a story about one of Bellatrix’s friends, or her sisters.

Bellatrix would put Skeeter’s friends, Zabini or the Prewett twins, in the hospital wing for about a week or so. 

Although it was obvious that friends did still get some protection, because the rumours that Skeeter spread were all fairly tame, things that only put little dents in their reputations, easily polished over - apart from that one time with Rodolphus, but even that hadn’t been life-destroying like Skeeter had the potential to be - and Bellatrix had put people in the hospital wing for months before - she could do a lot worse, they both could. 

Sometimes, Bellatrix would get Lucius to try and spread a rumour about Skeeter.

Sometimes, Skeeter would try to land a curse she’d learnt somewhere on Bellatrix. 

Neither of them really expected it to work, in those instances, but it was fun to try, testing out each other’s preferred method of destruction, just to see what it was like.

Most of the time, though, there was a bit more thought behind it. 

That was why Bellatrix enjoyed their rivalry so much, it was exciting; she was always on tenterhooks waiting for what Skeeter would hit her with next and when she wasn’t doing that she was coming up with some intricate plot that would successfully infuriate the other woman. 

For example, Bellatrix knew - from many, many hours spent watching the witch - that Skeeter loved Sugar Quills, was obsessed with them really, addicted, and after they started being able to go to Hogsmeade, Skeeter always had one on hand, Bellatrix thought she might have a bit of a dependency. 

Near the end of third year, Bellatrix came up with a brilliant plot that she thought might sabotage Skeeter’s end of year exams, or just generally inconvenience and annoy her. 

On the Hogsmeade weekend right before exam season started, Bellatrix ran down to Honeydukes as fast as she possibly could and got there before everyone else. Then, she bought out the shop’s entire stock of Sugar Quills; every flavour, every size, every last one - a most judicious use of the money in her trust vault. 

Thus, Skeeter was unable to refresh her supply and so she wasn’t able to snack on her preferred sweet as she revised. Bellatrix watched gleefully from across the library as Skeeter, on many occasions, sucked on the end of her actual quill, winced - presumably at the taste of eagle feather - and then scowled down at her parchment. 

Unfortunately, Skeeter did still pass her end of year exams and therefore wasn’t held back a year (this was an outcome that Bellatrix had considered but didn't really expect), but Bellatrix was on the receiving end of hundreds of furious glares for over a month so she knew that her scheme had gotten to the Sugar-Quill-obsessed witch - a roaring success.

This scheme also had the added benefit of providing Bellatrix with several hundred boxes of Sugar Quills, which she gave to Rabastan to sell amongst the Hogwarts community for a profit - Bellatrix had forgotten that other people might want Sugar Quills apart from Skeeter, much to Rodolphus’ amusement, and Rabastan happily set up his little business, not that either of them needed the money, and sold the sweets to everyone except for Skeeter. 

In fact, Bellatrix kept a strict eye on every single Sugar Quill that they sold, making sure that they didn’t somehow make their way over to Skeeter - it was all rather involved, but definitely worth it when she could see Skeeter getting more aggravated with every person she saw eating the sweets. 

At the start of fourth year, in retaliation for the Sugar Quills Incident, Skeeter had rigged the seating arrangements so that when Professor Slughorn announced that they would be brewing with the person sitting next to them for the next two months, Bellatrix was stuck next to Gilderoy Lockhart. 

Gilderoy Lockhart was an awful, attention-seeking nuisance that Bellatrix couldn’t stand - no one could really stand him actually, he was a sorry excuse for a human being.

As Bellatrix’s potions partner, he spent the entire two months attempting to flirt with her and insinuating that they were on the same level, or even that she was below him, because she was a Black and he was Gilderoy Lockhart - he said his own name with far too much reverence, it was sickening and also entirely misguided.

He didn’t do any of the work, and the work he did do, he did wrong, because he was unfathomably useless at Potions (and pretty much every other subject apart from maybe Charms) and then, at the end of the two months, when they presented the Potion to Slughorn, he tried to claim that Bellatrix was the one who hadn’t done anything.

Obviously, Bellatrix didn’t take too kindly to this, and informed Slughorn of exactly what had gone down over their shared cauldron; Lockhart almost blowing them all up by adding crushed scarab beetles, rather than diced, and then saying that Bellatrix was the one who had told him to crush them, when she had clearly said diced several times; Lockhart forgetting to do the one anti-clockwise stir in amongst the fifteen clockwise ones which meant Bellatrix had to spend an extra two hours working on the potion after class to stabilise it; Lockhart using the potion’s mirrored surface to look at his own reflection for an entire lesson instead of skinning the shrivelfig like Bellatrix had told him to. 

Of course, Slughorn took Bellatrix’s side - she was a Black, and a Slytherin, and an exceptional Potioneer, and Lockhart was a nobody, a Ravenclaw, and an idiot - and he assigned Lockhart with a month of detention, but that didn’t make up for the pain that Bellatrix had suffered through and she later added a month in the hospital wing to the man’s punishment. 

Skeeter had been grinning her way through every single one of their Potions lessons, that sharp, mean grin, because her desk, where she sat with Zabini, was handily close-by to Bellatrix and Lockhart’s, meaning she could overhear every second of Bellatrix’s misery. 

She still wasn’t entirely sure how Skeeter had managed to have everyone seated in such a specific manner so that Bellatrix was left no choice but to sit with Lockhart for that damning lesson in September but it was almost certainly her fault, probably a mixture of blackmail and bribery - Bellatrix was equal parts impressed and infuriated. 

This led to Bellatrix spending most of her time in that miserable Potions classroom plotting her revenge, coming up with scheme after scheme, each more diabolical than the last until she eventually came up with something suitably horrific that she could use to exact her revenge. 

And so their rivalry went, moving around each other and throwing out tricks like a twisted game of Wizard’s Chess, each ploy more complicated than the last until they were executing seventeen-step schemes every other Tuesday - it was fun, exciting, and a productive use of their hatred and anger. 

Rodolphus didn’t agree, he thought it was ridiculous, but Bellatrix didn’t care, it gave her somewhere to channel her creativity that wasn’t cursing the student body seven ways to Sunday - her parents weren’t all that amused by the amount of detentions she had been getting, even if she didn’t tend to get caught all that often - and Rodolphus always helped her with her plots when she asked, anyway. 

Of course, they did live together - Skeeter and Bellatrix, that is - which sometimes made things a bit complicated.

For the most part, they would just ignore each other, only spending the bare minimum of time alone together in their shared dorm. They would sleep there, get ready for the day, sometimes do homework there, but otherwise they spent their free time elsewhere, somewhere with less risk of attack. 

Because whenever the two of them were awake and in that room alone together for longer than was strictly necessary, things got a bit messy. Skeeter would pick a fight, or Bellatrix would pick a fight, it differed from day to day, and then they would be screaming at each other, the cruellest insults spilling like poison from their mouths, or they would be hissing and scratching at each other like feral cats, they had both been on the receiving end of many a slap from the other over the years - Bellatrix’s parents would be horrified by how muggle it all was. 

Bellatrix didn’t like those times so much, it was always more dangerous, because when she was that close and alone with Skeeter, she couldn’t help but look at her lips as she spat venom, couldn’t help but wonder if that venom tasted as deliciously mean as it sounded, she couldn’t help but think about how soft Skeeter’s cheek had been as she slapped it, couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of her skin was that soft too. 

The one time that their fights had gone a step beyond that, in fourth year, moving past insults and slaps into an all-out physical brawl, it had ended with Bellatrix pinning Skeeter to her bed, hands around her throat, and Skeeter pulling at her hair, legs wrapped around her waist.

Bellatrix had frozen - despite feeling like she was on fire, something hot burning beneath the surface of her skin - then glared at the blonde witch beneath her as furiously as she could manage before pushing away and going to sleep in Rodolphus’ bed for the night, throwing a “fuck off, Skeeter” over her shoulder as she went. 

Bellatrix didn’t let their fights get to that point again, because it was dangerous, far too dangerous. 

Because she was sure she used to hate Rita, viscerally and entirely, but by fourth year she couldn’t deny, at least within the confines of her own mind, that it wasn’t really hatred at all. 

It had been grudging respect, unwilling admiration, and then it had been a crush - a ridiculous, stupid crush - and now it was, well, now it was a whole lot more than just a crush, it sort of felt like the kind of thing that rhymed with dove, or foxglove, the kind of thing that she absolutely should not be feeling about her arch-nemesis. 

Because Skeeter despised her, had hated her since almost the moment she had met her, even if she did respect her somewhat, and so Bellatrix hid everything that she felt, her dangerous, ridiculous feelings, behind a façade of hatred, behind cruel words and plots designed to cause pain - pretended she didn’t want to sink her teeth into Skeeter’s neck whenever the witch tilted her head to the side to consider which insult would cut the deepest, pretended she didn’t want to become a Sugar Quill whenever she saw Skeeter sucking on one, if only so she could feel the witch’s lips once before her death, pretended she didn’t want to be running Skeeter’s mind all the time, waking and sleeping, like Skeeter was on hers, pretended she didn’t want to be the only one who Skeeter smiled that mean, sharp smile at. 

Maybe there was still some hatred there, Bellatrix thought sometimes, a fierce hatred that she drew on for their rivalry, a hatred for the fact that Skeeter had made her feel those things, for the fact that she would never be able to act on them, hatred for the fact that Skeeter would never feel the same way. 

Sometimes, Skeeter would bring people back to their shared dorm of an evening, and sometimes those people would find themselves at the wrong end of Bellatrix’s wand.

Not because of jealousy, not at all, but because Alecto Carrow had taken the last slice of pumpkin pie at dinner or because Corban Yaxley had looked at her funny in the corridor. 

They were both in the hospital wing for nearly a month. 

They never returned to Bellatrix and Skeeter’s dorm and Bellatrix told herself that it wasn’t jealousy (she didn’t believe herself; nor did Rodolphus, if the slightly exasperated, slightly amused looks he gave her meant anything). 

Bellatrix herself didn’t bring anyone back to their dorm, she hadn’t found anyone else that was really worthy of her; she was sure she didn’t want to sleep with a man, ever, full stop, but none of the women at Hogwarts were of the same calibre as her. 

Apart from her sisters, who she would never think of in that way no matter how many jokes Rabastan made about the Blacks being incestuous.

And Skeeter, who she would never be able to have in that way because they hated each other, or at least Skeeter hated her.

But their rivalry meant that Skeeter’s attention was frequently on her and Bellatrix all but basked in it, like a cat in sunlight, although obviously she hid it behind a mask of extreme distaste, because the attention Skeeter gave her was always anger, always hatred.

And that was why Bellatrix was so confused, so flabbergasted, by what the witch had just told her, by the calm way in which she had just told her. 

There was a rumour that the two of them were dating. 

Rita Skeeter and Bellatrix Black. 

A rumour about the witch who controlled every scrap of gossip that moved throughout the castle, and the witch who had been exempt from said gossip since their first year. 

What did that mean? 

It meant that Skeeter had started the rumour, or at least approved of its spreading, because Bellatrix refused to believe that she had somehow been usurped from her position as conductor of the gossip train, especially with how calm Skeeter was. 

What did that mean, though?

What possible reason could Skeeter have for allowing that rumour to spread? 

Was it another plot to get under Bellatrix’s skin?

She thought of something then, something horribly cruel, more cruel than Skeeter and Bellatrix had ever been to each other - or more cruel than Bellatrix had ever been to Skeeter - because she decided that Skeeter must know about how Bellatrix felt, and now she was determined to use it against her, to embarrass her, mock her, laugh at her.

That explained the rumour, the calm demeanour - Skeeter was trying to ridicule her. 

Then Bellatrix felt anger, anger aimed at Skeeter like she hadn’t felt in years, maybe ever, because yes, they were rivals, nemeses, enemies, whatever, but if the tables were turned, if it was the other way around, Bellatrix would never have gone this far. 

So, Bellatrix was angry, extremely angry, practically burning with fury, it was something visceral in a way it had never really been before and it was only building within her as she convinced herself of what must have happened, eyes narrowing as she looked at Skeeter, who had turned and started to spread jam on a slice of toast, sitting happily in Rabastan’s seat like she hadn’t just pushed a knife into Bellatrix’s heart and twisted.

She felt a solid pressure against her ankle and turned her head away from where she was glaring holes into the side of Skeeter’s head. Rodolphus was sat in the seat directly across from her as usual, brows furrowed, concern in his eyes, grounding her with an ankle against hers.

Bellatrix let out a breath, forcefully trying to calm herself; she could feel her hair starting to spark slightly, the way it only did when her emotions were running wild and her magic started to spill out of control, when she couldn’t physically contain it - that wouldn’t do in the middle of the Great Hall. 

A few deep, subtle breaths later and Bellatrix felt slightly more in control of herself, smiling as genuinely as she could at Rodolphus in gratitude. 

Then, she turned carefully to look at Skeeter again, watched as the witch took a bite of her toast, skilfully managing not to stare at her lips and the crumbs Skeeter was licking off of them.

“Rita,” she said, sickenly-sweet, and she felt a zing of malicious glee at the way Skeeter visibly started at being called by her first name, turning wide, green eyes on her.

“I seem to have forgotten my Charms textbook,” Bellatrix continued, fluttering her eyelashes, “Would you come back to our dorm with me to collect it?”

Skeeter stared at her for a moment, maybe noticing the tension that she couldn’t quite work out of her jaw, or the pure, concentrated anger that she was sure was clear in her eyes. 

“I would love to, Bellatrix,” she said, practically purring that last word, something intense in her gaze which made Bellatrix want to bristle in anger or shiver in… something else. 

She did neither, of course, not giving Skeeter the satisfaction of a reaction, simply smiling at her - bright and fake - and standing to leave, looking over her shoulder when Skeeter didn’t immediately follow. 

As the two of them left the Great Hall, Bellatrix heard an increase in the whispers that she’d been hearing all morning and clenched her hands into fists so they wouldn’t go straight for her wand. 

All she needed to do was get down to their dorm in the Slytherin section of the dungeons. Then she would be able to shout at Skeeter and get some answers and then lock herself behind the curtains in her four-poster bed and come up with a suitably devastating response to this attack, and maybe cry a little bit, but no one ever had to know that - Blacks didn’t cry. 

They walked in silence until Bellatrix shut the door to their dorm room behind them, folding her arms and leaning back against it, Skeeter turning around to face her. 

“What’s this about?” Skeeter said, face oddly guarded for someone whose horrible scheme was coming to fruition. 

“You know exactly what this is about, Skeeter,” Bellatrix hissed, eyes narrowed, anger still coursing through her, “I know you don’t have decency but I thought you might at least have a scrap of respect for me,”

“Of course I respect you-“

“What the fuck is this then!?” Bellatrix interrupted, pushing past Skeeter and starting to pace down the room,  “Look, I get it, you hate me, you’re disgusted by me and my stupid feelings and that’s fine, Skeeter, it’s fine, but it’s not like I can help it, trust me I’ve tried, and-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Skeeter said then, eyebrows drawn together like she was trying to work something out, and Merlin, Bellatrix thought she was angry before but it was just unbelievable that the witch would do something like that and then pretend that she hadn’t even done a thing. 

“I’m talking about your latest plot,” Bellatrix spat, filling the word with her fury, spinning around and advancing towards Skeeter, eyes narrowed, “You’re allowed to be disgusted, that’s fine, I always expected that would happen if you ever found out, but you could’ve just, I don’t know, requested to change dorms or just started completely ignoring me or-”

“I could never ignore you, Bellatrix,” Skeeter said, and Bellatrix wasn’t sure what it was - the use of her first name, maybe, or that weird look in Skeeter’s eyes - but she snapped her mouth shut, dropping the finger that had been pointing threateningly at the blonde witch in front of her.

“I’ve tried, you know,” Skeeter continued, something almost desperate about her, “to ignore you, when I first realised the way I felt, but it’s like you’re a part of me, you’ve clawed me open and worked your way permanently under my skin and it’s awful and Morgana knows I fucking hate you,”

Bellatrix sneered, anger quickly returning from its brief respite, “Yes, Morgana knows, and I know, and everyone knows you fucking hate me, Skeeter, especially with what you’ve just done, trust me, it’s more than clear,”

“Listen to me!” Skeeter said, raising her voice for the first time, and Bellatrix fell silent, still glaring, “Circe’s tits, this is unbearable, this wasn’t a plot, alright? Or it was, but it’s not because I’m disgusted by you, or because I hate you, or anything. It’s because I wanted you to be off-limits!”

“What?” Bellatrix asked, completely bewildered now, unsure whether she should still be angry or not. 

“I want you to be off-limits,” Skeeter repeated, collecting herself slightly, “Because if everyone thought you were dating me, then maybe Amycus Carrow would stop looking at you like you hung the fucking stars and maybe Peony Parkinson would stop panting after you like a damn dog!”

Bellatrix had been wrong earlier in the Great Hall, when she thought that was the most confused she’d ever been, because this beat that by several long miles on the confusion scale. 

“So… you wanted to ruin my love life?” Bellatrix said, perplexed, “I could've saved you the trouble, Skeeter, I don’t give a shit about Amycus Carrow or Peony fucking Parkinson, there’s only one person in this Merlin-forsaken school that I would ever consider dating and they are decidedly not interested.”

Skeeter looked crestfallen, probably because her plot wasn’t going to achieve anything.

Thinking about it, Bellatrix could see how this might be a good scheme, she was fairly certain that Skeeter didn’t know about how Bellatrix really felt, which was good, so this was probably just some sort of convoluted plan to spoil Bellatrix’s chances of romance. 

It was quite clever really, because no one would dare approach Bellatrix if they thought she was dating Skeeter, that would be a one-way ticket to the destruction of everything they held dear. It was just a shame, for Skeeter’s plot at least, that Bellatrix didn’t actually want anyone to approach her - except for Skeeter herself, of course. 

“Yeah,” Skeeter was saying, “Lestrange, right? I know you-”

The rest of Skeeter’s sentence was drowned out by Bellatrix’s incredulous laughter, anger completely forgotten because what the actual fuck? 

Bellatrix tried to imagine herself dating Rodolphus and it just made her laugh harder; they were best friends, yes, and Rodolphus was wonderful, but Merlin if they were together like that it would end in a brutal murder and Bellatrix wasn’t sure whose it would be - besides they were both gay, it would never work. 

“What?” Skeeter said, looking slightly stunned by the reaction she’d caused.

“Rodolphus!” Bellatrix laughed, “Rodolphus!? Oh, you’re insane, Skeeter, me and Rodolphus? Dating?”

“But-” Skeeter started, now starting to look a bit offended, probably about to start laying out evidence for how Bellatrix was obviously in love with Rodolphus - that was something Skeeter had in common with Bellatrix, they both hated being wrong. 

“I’m gay, Skeeter,” Bellatrix said, still laughing, adding a bit derision into her tone so Skeeter would feel embarrassed by her mistake (not at all because she was slightly worried about how Skeeter might react to this new information, maybe she would request to change dorms after all, even though Bellatrix was sure that Skeeter wasn’t entirely straight either, Alecto Carrow’s presence in her bed had seen to that), “And so’s Rodo for that matter. There has never been anything but a deep, platonic friendship between us, Merlin…”

Bellatrix trailed off, falling back into laughter and Skeeter was staring at her, face slightly flushed, eyes starting to narrow, “Then who’s this person that you’re interested in? Because you know she’ll think we’re dating now, and you’ll have absolutely no chance with her - I’ll ruin her life if she tries anything-“

Bellatrix laughed again, this time harshly, self-deprecating, “I never had a chance with her, Skeeter, so that won’t be an issue, she’s hated me since we first met,”

For some reason, Skeeter looked furious at this news, danger in her voice as she said, “I’m going to hunt her down and air every last one of her secrets until her name is worth less than dirt.”

“Why’s that?” Bellatrix asked, angry again, partly at Skeeter, partly at herself, because yes, she was getting jealous of this non-existent person, who it looked like Skeeter might hate more than she hated Bellatrix, what with the fire in her eyes, and that was just unacceptable, “You’re the only one who’s allowed to hate me, is that it?” (Bellatrix was ignoring how she thought that she should be the only one that Skeeter was allowed to hate) “Because I should tell you, half the school hates me - probably the same amount of people that hate y-”

Skeeter pressed forward, moving right into Bellatrix’s personal space, voice a hiss that promised violence (and that made Bellatrix feel a bit light-headed, she loved when Skeeter got vicious) as she interrupted, “It’s got nothing to do with hate, Black, I’m going to ruin her life because you want her, and I don’t want you to want her, I want you to want me!”

Bellatrix stared, mouth open, eyes wide, staring at Skeeter as her mind went over the absolute whirlwind of a conversation they’d been having, rearranging meanings and drawing a new conclusion; a conclusion that made her forget her anger entirely, replacing it with something that felt suspiciously like hope. 

“It’s you,” she breathed, still staring, and Skeeter was staring back, green eyes meeting grey, “You’re the one I’m interested in, the one who’s hated me since we first met, the one I want - the only one I've ever wanted,”

“Oh,” Skeeter said, like it was punched out of her, and Bellatrix could see the cogs whirring in her head, working out the same things that she had worked out just moments before, “I haven’t hated you in years. I thought you hated me.”

“No, I don’t hate you,” Bellatrix grinned at Skeeter, “Quite the opposite, really.”

And then they were kissing, sharp and dangerous and perfect and yes, Skeeter’s skin was as soft as it looked and yes, her mouth tasted as deliciously mean as her words sounded, and Bellatrix thought that nothing had ever made more sense.

Earlier, she had been burning with fury, a fiery ball of rage trapped behind her ribcage, but now, now she was burning for an entirely different reason, and not just in her ribcage, she could feel heat under her skin, something wonderful and hot and all-encompassing. 

Everywhere that Skeeter was touching her - lips and teeth and tongue clashing with Bellatrix’s, one hand tangled in her curls, the other tugging the bottom of her school shirt out from where it was tucked into her skirt, body pressed tightly against hers - was burning hot and brilliant. 

Bellatrix pushed Skeeter forward, moving to pin her to one of their beds. Her hands were around Skeeter’s neck and she felt legs wrap around her waist as Bellatrix hovered over the blonde witch, breaking the kiss, partly to breathe and partly to say, 

“Déjà vu?”

Skeeter’s eyes glinted with recognition, even as they were somewhat hazy with desire, 

“Hopefully this time won’t end with you telling me to fuck off,” she said, legs tightening around Bellatrix’s waist, pulling her closer.

“No,” Bellatrix replied with a wicked grin, “Maybe you could fuck me instead,” 

And with that, they were kissing again, Bellatrix’s hands moving to take off Skeeter’s robes - she wasn’t entirely sure when her own had been removed - and start to pull her tie and collar open.

She bit at Skeeter’s bottom lip slightly before trailing her mouth along her jaw and down her newly exposed neck, and everything was just burning hot. 

“You know, I had more steps in my plot,” Skeeter gasped out as Bellatrix started to suck a bruise into her neck. 

“Mm,” was Bellatrix’s only response, her mouth otherwise engaged and Skeeter continued.

“I was gonna - seduce you, properly and all, it was - ah, genius,” 

Bellatrix pulled back again, grinning, “Consider me successfully seduced, Skeeter,” 

And then, Skeeter was swinging them around, so Bellatrix had her back on the mattress and Skeeter was straddling her, leaning over her, hands deftly undoing the buttons on her shirt, pushing it to the side, eyes drinking her in. 

“Surely,” she said, a teasing tilt to her voice, “it wouldn’t kill you to call me Rita,” 

Bellatrix moved her hands up the witch’s thighs, coming to rest underneath her school skirt, fingers brushing against the lace of her knickers. 

“Rita,” Bellatrix repeated the name as she gripped Rita’s thighs to flip the two of them back over again, lifting them further up fully onto the bed and banishing their remaining outer layers of clothes to the other side of the room. 

Left just in their underwear, Rita gasped and dug her nails into Bellatrix’s shoulders. 

“I suppose you could call me Bellatrix,” she continued, as she looked down at Rita’s newly-revealed body (Merlin and Morgana have mercy, by the way). 

“Bellatrix,” Rita said with a grin as she tugged at the back of her neck and pulled them back into a messy kiss. 

Words - apart from each other’s names and “don’t stop” and “there, yes right there” and “ fuck, harder please” and other similar sentiments - were lost to them for a while, replaced by moans and gasps, hands exploring everywhere, the fire burning between them higher and higher and hotter and hotter and building and building, a string pulling taut until it snapped in what Bellatrix thought must be ecstasy, paradise, euphoria. 

It was everything she had ever wanted, everything she had ever imagined, it was everything. 

“Circe, I’ve wanted to do that since fourth year,” Rita said eventually, twirling one of Bellatrix’s curls around her finger as they lay like two halves of a whole in the bed. 

“Me too,” Bellatrix laughed slightly, her hand drawing shapes on Rita’s stomach, then she turned to look at the blonde witch, a slight furrow between her brows. 

“Carrow and Yaxley?” she asked, because those… events had been in fifth year. 

“Attempted distractions,” Rita said with a little smile, “didn’t work in the slightest, I was thinking of you the whole time,” 

“Ah,” Bellatrix said, smiling back at her, “so I probably didn’t need to hex them then?”

“That was why you hexed them?” Rita asked, eyes widening slightly. 

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow, because of course that was why she had hexed them and she had thought it was rather glaringly obvious, or at least Rodolphus seemed to think it was. 

“Rita,” she said, face dead-pan, “I don’t even like pumpkin pie, why would I care if Carrow ate the last slice, and the only reason Yaxley was looking at me funny was because I’d been glaring at him for the whole of Transfiguration.” 

Rita laughed, and Bellatrix sort of wanted to drown herself in the sound, “I knew that, Trixie, I’m not an idiot, but I just assumed you did it because you thought I cared about them, you know, like you do with my friends sometimes, but no - you were jealous” 

She sounded delighted, and as much as Bellatrix liked seeing her happy, she really can’t have that, even if her accusations were entirely accurate. 

“Hmm,” she said, neither confirming nor denying, “like you were jealous of Rodolphus?” 

Rita made an annoyed noise, “Oh, come on Trix, you sleep in his bed sometimes, for Merlin’s sake, of course I was jealous,” 

“But we never actually slept together like you did with Carrow and Yaxley,” Bellatrix argued, feeling that familiar pang of jealousy sweep through her as she thought back to those nights. 

“And besides,” she continued, pushing past the feeling, “you knew Rodo was gay, you told everyone about him and Antonin,” 

“I thought you didn’t know,” Rita explained, which was absurd, “I was trying to make you get over him.”

“Ha!” Bellatrix replied, “I was never under him, Rita, and he’s my best friend, of course I knew - Merlin knows Rodolphus wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it!” 

“Yes, well, I know that now,” Rita grumbled and Bellatrix grinned. 

“Are you admitting that you don’t know everything?” she teased. 

Rita tightened her grip on Bellatrix’s hair and said, “I’ll show you exactly what I fucking know”

And then, they were kissing, sharp and frantic and heat rising, a fire building again, another glimpse into paradise. 

They spent the day in a sort of haze, skiving off lessons, wrapped up in each other, exploring the new territory they’d just entered, starting to say all the words that had been building up between them since first year, everything they wanted to say to each other; things like “That spell you used for The Parchment Incident in third year was inspired” and “Morgana, you’re so gorgeous” and “What you did to Evangeline Johnson last year was so fucking hot”; things like “I think I’ve been in love with you since before I knew what those words really meant,” and “I thought falling in love with you was the worse thing I would ever do, but I think it might the best thing too”; things like “Merlin, I love you, Trixie,”; things like “I love you too, Ri”. 

And it was true, Bellatrix did love Rita, maybe always had, probably, hopefully, always would, because she couldn’t picture a future, a life, where loving Rita didn’t come as easily as breathing, maybe even easier, a future where Rita wasn’t a part of her, irrevocable, all-encompassing, under her skin like the brilliant, burning heat she felt when they touched, when they kissed. 

Rita had been a constant in her life since that first night when Bellatrix rejected her handshake, and she hoped - she would get down on her knees and beg to the gods if it was necessary, and that was saying something, because Blacks, as a rule, did not beg - that Rita would remain a constant until the very end, just in a slightly different way, a way that didn’t involve sabotage and fury and rivalry.

Bellatrix hoped that the rest of their lives would be like that day they were spending together in her bed, each other’s company, a beautiful kind of satisfied daze hanging over them both - conversations and kisses.

Eventually, they were interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Trix?,” came Rodolphus’ voice as he started to open the door, “I’ve brought your work from the classes you - Oh thank Merlin, finally!” 

He cut himself off as he finally realised what I was walking into, catching sight of Bellatrix and Rita together - thankfully under the covers by this point - in Bellatrix’s bed. 

“What do you mean ‘thank Merlin’?” Bellatrix asked with a frown. 

“The sexual tension was killing me,” he said, with what Bellatrix thought was an unnecessary amount of emphasis, “Honestly it was exhausting watching you two trying to pretend you weren’t madly in love with each other,” 

“Fuck off, Lestrange,” Rita said, but she was grinning slightly.

“As if you weren’t just as bad with Antonin last year,” Bellatrix added, also smiling, because wow, it felt good to acknowledge it - it being the overwhelming love she held for Rita - outside of the deep, dark recesses of her brain.  

Rodolphus threw the rolls of parchment he had been holding at her head, and she rolled her eyes at him as he said, “At least Ant and I never pretended to hate each other” 

Bellatrix waved her hand to gather the parchments and line them up on her desk, pointedly ignoring that comment and saying, “Thanks for bringing the work, Rod, you’re a lifesaver” 

It was Rodolphus’ turn to roll his eyes then, but he was smiling.

“Anytime, Trix,” he said, “Dinner’s in like twenty minutes, if you wanna come?” 

Bellatrix glanced at Rita who shrugged before turning back and grinning at Rodolphus, “Wait for us in the common room?” 

Rodolphus nodded as he left the dorm, “See you later”

This time, as she walked through the Slytherin Common room, through the Hogwarts corridors, through the Great Hall to get to dinner, Bellatrix knew exactly what was happening.

She knew exactly why people were staring, knew exactly why they were whispering. 

It had nothing to do with her status as a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black - or maybe just a little bit to do with it. 

It had everything to do with the way her hand was intertwined with Rita Skeeter’s, linking them together as they walked. 

Bellatrix smiled as they sat down next to each other at the Slytherin table, Rita to her right now because Rabastan had been discharged from the hospital wing. 

It was odd, she thought, knowing everyone was gossiping about them - the witch who controlled every scrap of gossip that moved throughout the castle, and the witch who had been exempt from said gossip since their first year. 

But at least now, unlike that morning, the rumours were actually based in truth.