Author's note: All rights belong to the incredible J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers. Please, please review? Very AU but hey-ho. set just after the Dark Lord is brought back to life in the fourth novel/film, the Azkaban breakout has already been accomplished.

Chapter one; the first impression

Bellatrix walked out the meeting room five minutes later than everyone else as usual, her face a mixture of devotion and disappointment. The latter not as present as always. He'd nearly given in this time, so close. Every meeting she'd stay behind and offer him her 'services'. She always had, he always declined but never rejected.

When they were both younger he had told himself he'd wait. He'd thought they'd be beautiful forever and when he took over in maybe, a years' time? That he would welcome her into his embrace every night, his most loyal follower. Alas what a great misconception that had been. He was barely human anymore, far from attractive. She, well she still possessed beauty even Azkaban could not take that from her, not all of it. He'd be lying if he said the thought had never been alluring to him, it was, she was. Now though, he wanted to, he really wanted to. Saying no just felt ungrateful.

He would ponder over this later, now there were more pressing matters at hand. He had to recruit a certain someone and from what he'd heard if he sent anyone else their body would be returned in a hat. The witch in question was an infamous dark criminal, known for seducing and murdering powerful muggle-borns and successful blood traitors. She was called many names, he had been informed her true identity was Lolita. Just Lolita. No one has fought against her and survived, or even stood a chance. She was to be his perfect deatheater, he wouldn't take no for an answer.

How to ask her was going to be difficult though, a woman who's killed thousands without ever being noticed is hardly going to be sat in the three broomsticks. Most would never try to find her in the first place for fear of their life but he was the Dark Lord and all who were told to obeyed him. Well, the majority.

Being the greatest legilimens and occulmens in the world had many benefits, locating whoever he liked was a big one. Admittedly this 'Lolita' (he'd be darned if that's her real name) was harder to track than most, irritatingly harder. None the less he had pursued adamantly, this witch fascinated him. The massacres at her hand went unconnected for years before some ministry fool suddenly said "You know all these crimes are exactly the same, surely it's the same person committing them". There were still people who went against this theory, blaming the majority on deatheaters and dismissing the rest as anomalies. These people were stupidly naïve. He supposed many doubted the same woman was responsible purely because the culprit was a woman (there were still those who were unsure of Bellatrix's true gender, they have a club in St Mungo's psych ward). The Dark Lord had long since learnt not to underestimate women; he was certain Narcissa possessed strong powers behind her little domestic act.

With this fair outlook fresh in mind he apparated, immediately the strong breezes thrust at him and his cloak flew in the air like a long sleek crow. The Welsh breeze washed around him and he could sense protection smells in the air, strong ones, he was surprised he'd passed through them. The cottage was quaint and rustic with a large stretch of garden. The fresh green life of the grass and bushes was equalled by the dead flowers lining the property. He liked it.

Walking straight in the Dark Lord paused to admire the home; it was classically decorated with a morbid flair, there was fine looking antiques which he presumed were stolen from pretentious victims, and considering the near entire ensemble was black everything fitted perfectly. He walked into what seemed like the sitting room to see an immaculately beautiful young woman sat in a grand armchair. Her thick glossy hair was a deep caramel tone and curled to her waist, piercing cat eyes the darkest shade of blue glared right through him, her sharp cheekbones matched the severity of her eyes, and seductive dark lips completed the face. She looked lean with generous curves showing obviously through a dark purple silk blouse tucked into a tightly clad black midi skirt. Muggle clothes. She tapped her thin fingers impatiently,
"Your late" she stated directly, arching heavy eye brows. If the Dark Lord had eyebrows his too would be raised, how dare this witch speak to him in such a manner? The Lord Voldemort had just entered her secluded little house and she was, annoyed?
"You may sit" She nodded at the chair opposite (and slightly beneath) her, she spoke as if that was the reason he'd stood in silence. She was arrogant, he obliged regardless.
"I imagine you expected me to be terrified, bless. The answer is yes by the way."
Smoothed H's and curled R's, Latin American with an English hint.
"Mexican actually, Welsh hint" She stared at him with a nonchalant face. He was angry now. This witch thought she could access his mind without punishment, fool. Still remaining silent he sent a crucio at her, she didn't flinch. He noticed her hands began to grasp the seat tightly, not tightly enough. Most would've begun to contort in agony. He was impressed.

He removed the curse. The two sat in silence for a short while before the Dark Lord thought this an appropriate time to speak up,
"You've been tortured before I see" He stated rather then asked, the witch intrigued him even more in person.
"No. I would normally repel the curse immediately but I didn't want to hurt your ego." She smirked to herself, "it was utterly excruciating by the way. I'm sure mummy would be proud." He mentally cursed himself for not increasing the guard round his mind. That was too far.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he screamed. She flicked her wrist and the green beam flew at the wall. Lightening reflexes, her growing list of skills were deeply gritting on him.
"Temperamental aren't we? Trying to kill me when not so long ago I was 'your perfect deatheater'? I decided to remove my defences when I heard that you know how could I lock out such a charmer?" She smirked again. He smirked back, she reminded him of a young Tom Riddle. It was becoming apparent the woman took nothing all that seriously, even her life.
"I presume by your attitude you have wished to join my forces for quite some time then?" He asked, feeling smug that this proud witch who believed herself so great was willing to work under his command.
"Of course, actually I was expecting you to start searching for me sooner. I would've thought the murders would catch your eye?" She answered his question with a question, never giving him control of the conversation.
"The murders were in my name?" Two could play at that game.
"Certainly not, the fact they were connected and a culprit named was for you. I am not pathetic enough to come crawling on my knees to be accepted into your little club." Once again she smirked, her arrogance never faltering.
"I'll be given one of the highest rankings indubitably." She didn't give him chance to reply.
"Naturally" Ranking of the highest marking was always earned over time, it had taken her minutes. Still loyalty must always be tested,
"I must ask, you wish to follow me but sit before me in muggle garments?" This had been annoying him as soon as he'd seen her.
"I'm not opposed to the culture muggles have developed, I only wish for them to be put in their place beneath those who are pure and have magic. And half-bloods who support the right cause, obviously." At this she smiled sympathetically softening all her features, he nodded in return. Her mind told him the knowledge she had extracted from him would be kept private and not judged upon. He appreciated this.
"We shall leave now." He stood to depart.
"Will I be given accommodation?" She too stood.
"Certainly." She turned and retrieved a small smart looking case from behind the chair and led him out the door. He held his arm out expectantly, she latched on her, the golden tone of her skin clashing against the ghostly white of his. Her claw like nails dug into his skin as they apparated. They landed outside a dark stately manor that the dark Lord had 'acquired'.

"Silent apparition, aren't we a clever boy?" She snorted at her own joke. He grinned ever so slightly. Her dry humour amused him, she was quick.
"I meant to ask before, Lolita?" He looked down at the witch walking beside him. Again she snorted.
"Lolita Santana Rosario Kotsiopoulos." Jeesh and he thought Marvalo was bad.
"I know."
He grabbed her arm roughly, stopping them in their tracks and glared down at her sternly.
"I didn't need to use legilimensy to know what you were thinking." With that, she yanked her arm out of his hold and continued walking down the drive, chin in the air. He caught pace and resumed lead. They entered the house in silence and she followed him up the stairs, through the left corridor until they reached the end door. He opened it and she stepped in dutifully, took in the style and perched herself at the end of the bed. He was going to give her the small room that was customary for all followers but had reconsidered deciding she'd better suit a suite. Sat promptly on the edge of the four poster bed; straight posture, high head, vain expression, she suited the room.

"Meeting room next to the stairs can't miss it, ten minutes. Be respectful." This earned him another snort. He left, leaving his new lieutenant to prepare herself. He had a feeling the others wouldn't take well to a newbie being welcomed straight into the inner circle, particularly Bellatrix.