[Any fool who values his life — any servant too fearful to disobey orders — might eventually be called loyal. But it isn't out of fear that they submit. Their only fear is disappointing their master. And if they should fail, the agony of failure itself would be far, far worse than anything Voldemort could mete out as a punishment. She knows this is true of herself, and feels in this moment that it must be true of both of them.

Barty, with the love of a son for his surrogate father, and Bellatrix with a love that permits no other, and burns brighter in futility. Through his most willing servants, the Dark Lord exploits the only force he cannot himself understand.

Malfoy's already proven himself an opportunist. That's a horrible trait in these times (not to mention, a bad influence on Cissy) but she doesn't actively dislike him. She has no idea, truly, why he doesn't like her; or why he sometimes flinches when she speaks. Bellatrix is the dark counterpoint to every note her sister hits. It's possible that's uncomfortable for him, being confronted by a mad and hateful inversion of the qualities that endear him to a person. Who can say? It's a mystery.]

Oh, lovely. At last, someone with a bit of charm. You know precisely what to say.

[She sees the possibility that he's trying to sway her, but awareness doesn't mean the effort's wasted. The natural suggestion of disdain on her lips softens somewhat, at the edges. It's a good thing; a better thing, in fact, than her predatory smile.

It is the right place for him, yes. It has to be, doesn't it? There's no opportunity to back out, and his father's certainly not going to give him what he's looking for.]

There's your proof, honestly. Little boys don't know how to speak at all. Don't know the art of it.