Still, Harry kept lobbing softballs at his wife, albeit almost apologetically. Noting that Harry's reticence seemed to increase after evenings of lovemaking, Bellatrix even considered withholding physical intimacy to make Harry frustrated and angry, but had to admit to herself, protestations aside, that she enjoyed their sex life every bit as much as Harry did.
So Bellatrix Black decided to switch tactics. Towards the end of yet another softball duel with Harry, Bellatrix stepped deliberately into the path of one of Harry's marshmallow banishers. Although the spell was barely stronger than a stiff breeze, Bellatrix cried and fell to the floor. Harry then rushed to his wife's side. As he crouched down beside her, turning her on her back to assess her level of consciousness and degree of injury, Bellatrix slapped Harry's face with all the force she could muster. Harry was shocked speechless-Bellatrix was not.
"So," Bellatrix began, her voice both cold and angry, "what do you think the vile men who form the core of Riddle's Death Eaters would do to me if they incapacitated me during a duel? What would Rodolphus-a man whose bed I spurned for yours-do? What would his brother Rabastan do? What would any twisted Death Eater have done to Lily Potter, or to Molly Weasley?"
Bellatrix paused briefly, forcing Harry to face the full weight of her words.
"Your misguided unwillingness to treat me like an equal on this friendly little battlefield," she continued, getting on her feet as she gestured at the space of the hangar, "might someday cause my death, or even expose me to tender mercies worse than death, at the hands of Riddle himself. If you love me," she briefly paused again, placing a passionate kiss on Harry's lips before adding, "and I believe that you do, then stop treating me like some goddamned flower. As you yourself have said, I'm the most powerful witch you've ever faced on the field of battle. Start treating me like it."
Throughout Bellatrix's monologue, and even her kiss, Harry's face had remained impassive, as if he were still stunned. Staring briefly into his bride's violet eyes, Harry then turned and slowly strode back towards his side of the hanger. Spinning suddenly to face Bellatrix after walking twenty odd feet, Harry wordlessly waved his wand, instantly suffusing the hangar with blindingly bright light.
Now blinded herself, Bellatrix recalled the dueling instincts drilled ruthlessly into her reflexes during training with her uncle Orion. Twisting her torso to the left to dodge the follow-up spell Harry was sure to send her way, Bellatrix nonetheless found herself spun around and knocked to the floor by an overpowered banisher which barely grazed her shoulder as it sizzled through the air to explode against the floor of the hangar behind her.
Correctly expecting Harry to cast at the spot where she landed, Bellatrix rolled to her right as Harry's spells punched the floor beside her, quickly crouching before wordlessly unleashing a deafening sonic pulse from the tip of her own wand. Using the noise to mask her apparation, Bellatrix disapparated behind Harry, still trying to blink away the spots that filled her eyes as she urgently waved her wand to throw a fireball at Harry. She'd nearly completed her incantation when she heard her husband yell "Expelliarmus!" As she felt her wand fly from her grasp, Bellatrix also felt herself flung violently backwards, losing consciousness as she collided with the floor.
The warm, rich fragrance of violet bouquets filled Bellatrix's nostrils as she slowly regained consciousness. As her eyes fluttered slowly open, Bellatrix found herself looking at the face of her beloved, his expression pained even as he warmly smiled at his wife. Harry sat cross-legged on the floor near Bellatrix's head, to her right, cradling her head in his lap while stroking her long ebon locks, curling strands of hair around the fingers of his right hand, resting his left hand gingerly atop her forehead. As Harry helped Bellatrix sit up, placing a soft kiss on her moist lips, Bellatrix noticed that the floor of the hangar was entirely covered with violet petals.
"You were right, Bellatrix," Harry said softly, "I was being selfish. It hurts me to hurt you, but by sparing myself that pain I was placing you at greater risk." He paused, smirking almost imperceptibly even as he smiled. "I'll respect your wishes and try to kick your arse every time we duel." Harry then held Bellatrix tightly, pressing his right cheek against hers and crushing her bosom against his chest as he spoke still more softly into her ear. "But how I tend any wounds I may inflict is entirely up to me."
From that day forward, Harry always dueled Bellatrix fiercely, as if she were every bit the skilled and powerful witch he remembered. But fortunately, despite her instruction to not to hold back, Harry never used inherently lethal spells against her, even though she used them against him. In a perverse sort of way, Bellatrix enjoyed throwing the nastiest spells she could at Harry because she knew he would repel them-she would help him get better at repelling them. And because it provided her with the bittersweet pleasure of being able to do something Harry could not, albeit by choice.
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