March, 1965

Black Family Residence

London

"Well, Cygnus. I hope this plan makes everyone very happy."

"The age gap is daunting, sir," Cygnus confessed. "Bellatrix is twenty-five years your junior. And you're insisting upon marrying her the moment she comes of age."

Lord Voldemort - still known to nearly the entire wizarding world as Tom Riddle - folded his hands on Cygnus Black's desk and sniffed lightly.

"She will leave for school on the first of September in 1968, will she not?"

"She will," Cygnus nodded hesitantly where they sat in his office on the rainy spring day. Voldemort swallowed hard and said calmly,

"A provisional marriage could be made, to be solemnised fully over Christmas holidays of her sixth year of school. That way, the wedding could take place just twenty-one days before her seventeenth birthday. I would, of course, adhere to law and abstain from… you know…"

Cygnus' cheeks reddened, but he nodded a little. "It would allow a nice big public wedding just before she returns to school. Still, I wonder why you can not wait until the winter holidays… perhaps we can discuss it closer to the wedding."

Voldemort tipped his head and promised, "I won't touch her until the Christmas holidays of that year, Cygnus. I am not that sort of bastard. And, anyway, this is an arranged marriage. She'd be in one no matter what. Someone's going to touch you. You know it's true."

"I know." Cygnus blinked a few times and asked him, "Tom… sorry. Lord Voldemort. Why don't you marry a witch our age?"
"Nearly forty? Beyond reproductive capabilities, should that be a route I decide to go down? Hm? No. I spent my youth and my thirties doing very important work. But by the time I came home, Cygnus, all of the little girls who had fawned over Tom Riddle had grown into married mothers. All that's left are spinsters and… your lovely, wicked-headed daughter. I could tame her."

"Tame her." Cygnus lowered his eyes and said, "She's nearly been expelled four of five times."

"Good. I like her tenacity," Voldemort nodded, and Cygnus looked surprised. Voldemort smirked. "She drowned things when she was little and she hexes them now that she's grown. I think I'll like her very much. And I promise you, Cygnus, to take very good care of her."

Cygnus Black III picked up a quill and signed the contract on the desk before him. He sighed.

"And you… Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort… you get to marry into one of the oldest and most aristocratic families in wizarding Britain. I don't suppose you mind?"

"I don't suppose I do," Voldemort said, accepting the quill. He dipped it and signed his name, and he extended his hand and clutched Cygnus' forearm as Cygnus did the same.

"We have ourselves a deal, then," Cygnus said, and Voldemort nodded crisply.

14 August 1968

Twillfit and Tattings

London

"Oh, don't you look like a dream," breathed Druella Black, and Bellatrix just studied her own reflection for a long moment as she twirled around. Her wedding gown was cream-coloured raw silk, gathered in places along the full skirts. The tight bodice and off-the-shoulder straps were decorated with pearls and beads. The Twillfit and Tattings witch was explaining to Druella how to detach the cape that led to the long train for the ceremony, so that Bellatrix could dance at her reception.

"How are you going to wear your hair?" asked Telinda, the employee, and Bellatrix shrugged.

"Down, I suppose."

"No," Druella protested. "We're pulling it into a tight, low chignon. So we'll pin the veil… yes, just there. Perfect. Thank you. Oh, Bella. How lucky you are that your father secured you to Mr Riddle when he did."

"I think he prefers Lord Voldemort now," Bellatrix muttered, but then Telinda asked,

"What are the flowers?"

"Stephy-litis," Bellatrix said, but Druella rolled her eyes and amended,

"Stephanotis. They're lovely. Already Preserved. Bellatrix. You are going to be a beautiful bride."

"Did you want to marry Daddy when you did?" Bellatrix asked. "You were twenty. Practically ancient in the Pureblood world."

Druella's cheeks pinked. "I cared very deeply for… my, what a very personal conversation to be having in the robe shop."

"Is there anything else you'll be needing?" asked Telinda. "Shoes, jewellery?"

"I've got cream slippers, and I'll be wearing my great-great-grandmother's pearls," Bellatrix said. Once they finished with the ensemble, getting a promise that it would be hand-delivered to the Black family home within two days, they headed out and finished up some shopping in Diagon Alley before going home. When they arrived, Hinky, their House-Elf, dashed up to the door and hissed,

"Lord Voldemort, as he calls himself, is here, Madam, Mistress. He arrived twenty minutes ago and I have seated him in the parlour."

"What?" Bellatrix whispered frantically, and Druella said quietly,

"Don't panic. Don't panic."

Bellatrix panicked then. Was he here to call off the wedding, to try and get out of his contract somehow? Was he here to make demands of some kind?
"Hello!" Druella said brightly as the ladies strode into the sitting room. Andromeda was at a friend's house today, Bellatrix knew, and Narcissa was at Malfoy Manor with her little 'boyfriend,' Lucius. Cygnus was to pick them each up on his way home from his executive position at Gringotts. Bellatrix and Druella were the only ones here to greet Tom Riddle - Lord Voldemort - who stood politely from the chair where he'd been sipping tea. His lightweight green robes billowed about him, and he bowed his head as he said respectfully,

"Madam Black. Miss Black. I do hope I've not inconvenienced you with a surprise visit. I confess I had only hoped for a brief and pleasant conversation with my bride in the days leading up to our wedding."

"Oh." For some reason, that made Bellatrix a little breathless. Druella, who Bellatrix knew had been three years younger than Tom Riddle in school, smirked a bit and nodded.

"Of course. I've got to go freshen up. I'll leave you two to talk."

"Thank you, Druella," Voldemort said softly. Once she'd gone, Bellatrix came and sat opposite Voldemort, nervously yanking down her short black skirt. She flashed him a little smile and felt her heart race with anxiety. But he just sipped at his tea a little, and he asked her,

"Are you almost ready? For the wedding?"

"The stephanotis are already Preserved," Bellatrix said confidently. "And my gown is pretty. Though I never wear white. Will my things be moved immediately after the wedding? My belongings?"

"Oh. Erm… that's up to you," Voldemort said. "In a provisional marriage, where the ceremony happens before the bride comes of age, typically she stays with her parents until after her birthday. But since you're going back to school, it probably doesn't much matter. You'll have your own bedroom in my home, so…"

"Your home in the Broadway, in the Cotswolds," Bellatrix nodded. "Marsham House, you said."

"Yes, I built it," he nodded. "Three years ago, after I signed the marriage contract. I knew I needed a home if I was to have an aristocratic wife. I've got a House-Elf. It's a pretty house. It's no Malfoy Manor, nor Castle Lestrange, but it is large and pleasant, and I hope you will like it there. You will have your privacy, I assure you."

Bellatrix gulped hard. She couldn't help thinking about the fact that while he couldn't touch her until the Christmas holidays, after that he could do whatever he wanted. Why hadn't he waited to marry her until Christmas, anyway?

"There is a date in December," he said, and she jolted, always alarmed by his Legilimency, "that makes me uncomfortable. I did not wish to marry then."

"Christmas?" Bellatrix asked, and he shook his head.

"New Year's."

"Did something happen on New Year's?" she asked curiously, and he curled up half his mouth.

"I was born on New Year's. You can tell I'm not giving you all the truth. All right. The reality, Bellatrix, is that in 1965, I needed to sign a contract seeing to it that I married into an aristocratic Pureblood family as quickly and efficiently as I possibly could. A provisional marriage seemed wise. But I won't touch you. Don't worry."

Bellatrix wasn't worried, somehow. He managed to take away some of her worry. He was handsome, she thought, though so much older. She shrugged, studying his eyes and his jaw, and she asked,

"What shall I call you?"

"Most people still call me Tom," he pointed out, but Bellatrix shook her head.

"You don't like that name. You want to be called Lord Voldemort. You're too powerful to be Tom."

His eyes flashed strangely then. He dragged his thumb over his lip and said,

"I'm nowhere near as powerful as I will be. And Lord Voldemort is not a name to be waved about like a banner. It must maintain its own power. Sir will do fine."

Bellatrix snorted a laugh and shook her head. "As if you are a professor at school? Please. Something else."

He narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head. "Call me whatever you like."

Suddenly Bellatrix had an idea, and she smiled a little. "My Lord."

"What?" he whispered, looking shocked, and she nodded.

"It's like sir, but for Lord Voldemort. Will it suit you, My Lord?"

He just blinked a few times and surprised her by whispering, almost desperately, "Bellatrix…"

He shut his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he said softly to her,

"I think you and I are going to get along just fine."

Author's Note: I've decided to continue writing, but definitely on a scaled-back level. I have some very exciting professional opportunities coming up, I've got some health stuff I'm dealing with, etc. but I really do derive a lot of satisfaction from writing for these two. Bear with me as I write this new story. Please do leave a comment if you get a spare moment.