An Introduction

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As she walked down the corridor of the train, dark eyes surveyed her surroundings, noting and dismissing those she passed. Her head was held high, her posture perfect, her black hair flowing down her back, a contemptuous sneer on her lips as she walked amongst her classmates as if she was ruler of all she surveyed, which was not entirely inaccurate. She might only be a fifth year, but Bellatrix Black commanded attention, respect, and fear as she made her way to the compartment that she had claimed during her first year.

When she arrived at the private compartment, her eyes narrowed as she discovered someone sitting in her seat. "Move," she demanded sharply. He looked up from the open book in his lap, black eyes lazily roaming over her from head to foot. How dare he look at her so brazenly, as if she were not wearing a stitch of clothing? Refusing to react to his insolent gaze, she brusquely informed him, "You are in my seat. Move."

"No." He smirked as he challenged her with one word, an ebony brow arching as his eyes met hers defiantly. "I am quite comfortable. Go elsewhere. You are being bothersome, little girl."

Little girl? He was dismissing her? Who the bloody hell did he think he was anyway? She did not recognize him at all, noting the faint Eastern European accent practically hidden by husky timbre of his voice. She did not recall her Mum discussing the arrival of any new Pureblood families recently, slightly curious at to his identity even though she refused to yield to him to find out . He was definitely a Pureblood, that much evident from his arrogance and rude behavior. Their eyes were locked, neither willing to back down or retreat. "I said move."

"And I said no."

Bellatrix felt a heat spread over her at his smug refusal to obey her demand. She might only be fifteen but she had been one of the leaders of Slytherin since her arrival at Hogwarts. Even the older students had deferred to her, knowing she was from one of the oldest Pureblood families in their world and, even at eleven, she had the reputation as someone you did not wish to cross. Fear, respect, admiration, it was all the same to Bellatrix. She got what she wanted at any cost, unafraid of taking chances and willing to risk anything to succeed.

She was the quintessential Slytherin: attractive, cunning, manipulative, ambitious, charming, brilliant, and slightly mad. The very idea that this foreigner had the nerve to refuse her was causing her to entertain thoughts of wrestling him to the ground until he was submitting. He had beautiful, full lips she noticed abstractly, frowning as that thought flickered in her mind.

"Oh, there you are," a smooth voice spoke from beside her as the door to the compartment opened. Neither she nor the attractive stranger broke eye contact as the blond wizard moved to her side. Lucius Malfoy rolled his eyes as he noticed their posturing, not all surprised that they had all ready clashed.

They were similar in many ways so he had expected that they would most likely hate one another, which, now that he gave it serious thought, was actually a rather entertaining prospect for what he had assumed would be a rather mundane fifth year. Perhaps Lestrange’s transfer from Durmstrang would make for a bit of excitement after all. Lips curling into a pleased smile at the thought of the mischief he could cause between his dear friend Bellatrix and the transfer student, he drawled, "Bellatrix Black meet Rodolphus Lestrange."

the end