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You couldn't blame Rita for looking. It was her job. Sort of. Well, her job wasn't too watch Bellatrix change in the girls dorm after class. Her job was to collect blackmail, and gossip. Her job was to become the damn best journalist wizarding Britain had ever seen. That's why she'd been looking. To see if the rumours of Bellatrix taking the dark mark were true.
It was widely speculated that her parents knew the Dark Lord that was trying to rise to power and overthrow the current ministry in hopes of something a little more purist. Rita couldn't care less if she tried, blood purity was the least of her concerns. Of all things to worry about, honestly.
She hadn't seen the dark mark on Bellatrix's smooth pale skin, but she had seen something. Something that, really, would make a wondrous gossip headline. That was why she was still staring, yes of course. For headline potential in the Hogwarts Gossip paper she ran. She was simply trying to commit to memory the slithering black ink tattooed into Bellatrix's hip for the image she'd have to draw. There wasn't a single other reason she was so raptly watching her roommate's hip.
"Honestly Skeeter, anyone would think you'd never seen a tattoo before," Bellatrix said.
"Not on you I haven't," she said, looking up to meet her eye.
"You don't expect to think you've never imagined it, do you?" she asked. Something in her tone made Rita shiver. There was something about that screamed danger, but Rita had never listened to warnings. Warnings stopped her getting her gossip.
"What do you mean?" Rita asked. It was a sort of silent agreement in the dorm that conversations didn't happen when they in the middle of changing. Yet there she was, trapped in an exchange with Bellatrix mid outfit change. She still had her school skirt and socks on, yes, but her robe, tie and shirt were resting neatly on her bed behind her. It left Bellatrix in just the lower half of her uniform, and what looked like a rather impractical lacy bra. Rita did her best not to look there.
"You think I don't know when someone's watching me change?" Bellatrix asked, smirking as Rita flushed. "You think I haven't caught your eyes wandering?" There was a threat in her words, Rita was sure of it. She just couldn't pick it out. Her eyes dropped back down to the tattoo that took up a large part of Bellatrix's hip.
The low hung skirt cut it off, only the top half was visible. It was cliche really, a slytherin like Bellatrix having a snake tattooed into her skin. Enchanted too, she wouldn't do anything if magic wasn't involved. It moved, slithering around her skin, like the snake it so depicted.
"Going to write an article Skeeter? About my tattoos?" she teased, turning to face her properly. Rita's eyes darted upward to meet her eyes, pausing only momentarily over the lacy bra.
"Tattoos plural?" Rita asked. Bellatrix cackled then. She'd call it a laugh, but that seemed to gentle for something Bellatrix would do. The house of Black was never gentle, she reminded herself. They were never kind. They always had an agenda. She knew this. She knew it, and yet she couldn't draw herself away.
"Aw, you're not as observant as I thought," Bellatrix said, leaning forward. Her new position, with her hand splayed out on the deep green duvet and her arms stretched out straight, gave Rita a better view of her cleavage. It was hard to keep her eyes focused on anything else. "Do I distract you Skeeter?" she asked lowly. Rita's eyes shot back up to Bellatrix's.
"Where are your other tattoos?" Rita asked. Bellatrix reached for her wand and Rita watched her closely.
Bellatrix's long fingers gripped onto the wood with a sort of elegant ease. Rita hadn't thought it was possible to hold a wand elegantly, but Bellatrix truly was full of surprises. There was something about her, Rita had realised a long time ago, that promised everything she did would be done with an elegant danger.
With a smooth flick, a silent spell, Bellatrix removed a glamour. For a split second her whole body shimmered as the glamour pulled away from her sin, the magic being dispelled so easily.
Rita gulped slightly as Bellatrix's smooth, pale skin gave way to harsh black lines of ink tattooed into her.
She was stunning, and beautiful, and all of it promised her danger. Bellatrix was danger and beauty incarnate, and it showed.
Rita struggled to keep her eyes focused on just one tattoo at a time. There was a flower up her side, and a set of vampire lips peaking over the hem of her skirt just under her belly button. There was an anatomically correct heart, beating away, on her upper arm. Her entire right arm was completely covered, and Rita let her eyes dart from inked in design to inked in design.
Bellatrix was very thoroughly covered in tattoos.
"Got your fill?" Bellatrix asked, twirling her wand around easily. Rita shot her eyes back to Bellatrix's. She could feel the blush covering her cheeks, and she knew her eyes were wide, but all her practice hiding her emotions failed in the face of Bellatrix. Especially a Bellatrix with a mocking voice.
"You know Skeeter, anyone would think you like looking at me in just my underwear," Bellatrix went on. Rita's eyes widened further and she felt her whole face heat up. She hadn't even noticed Bellatrix removing her low hung skirt, and revealing even more tattoos trailing down her legs.
"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Rita said turning her head away. As much as she wanted to keep admiring Bellatrix, cataloguing each and every tattoo, she did not want Bellatrix to have that power over her.
"In your dreams, Skeeter," Bellatrix said smoothly. Rita's eyes were dragged back, and she watched as the other witch twirled her wand in tattooed fingers with ease.
Even in her undergarments Bellatrix screamed of danger. It was a warning etched into her very being, run. And Rita never did. She never would. Because underneath that danger, was something pulling Rita in, something that kept Rita hooked on the elegantly deadly woman.
"How many tattoos do you have?" Rita asked, her eyes trailing down Bellatrix's legs and darting between the tattoos there too. From between her thighs, the edge of what looked like a galaxy peaked out. One of the very few bits of colour on Bellatrix's pale skin.
"Going to write that article?" she asked, leaning over again. Rita's eye's were forced up as Bellatrix bent herself over so easily.
"It would certainly be a scandal," Rita said. Bellatrix smirked, a sharp look that suited her sharp features.
"You know what else would be scandalous?" she asked, twirling her wand. Rita gulped just slightly, her eyes darting between Bellatrix's dark eyes, her long elegant fingers, and Bellatrix's boobs practically spilling out of her black lacy bra. She tried to keep her eyes focused on Bellatrix's.
"What?" she asked tightly.
"The goody two shoes reporter spying on the eldest daughter of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, in her underthings," Bellatrix said. With a flick of her wand all the tattoos vanished under a glamour. Rita looked away, her thick bob doing it's best to hide her flaming red cheeks.
Bellatrix smirked to herself and turned to grab her silk nightdress from her bedside table drawer. There was something fun to making Rita's cheeks flame red, and getting her out of sorts. It was alluring, addicting even.
Everything about Rita was addicting, not that Bellatrix would ever admit it. There was a threat to her, lurking in the shadows of her very being. You could not trust Rita, she cared for no one but herself. All she wanted was a successful career in journalism. Any little secret Bellatrix gave up, that could find it's way into one of Rita's gossip columns or articles, and she really shouldn't risk it.
But it was so fun to play with Rita. To toy with her. To make her fluster, and lose her focus.