Here is the beginning of the Voldemort x Bellatrix story that I mentioned on my profile months ago. I think that this story is going to end up being the most unique plot for the pairing. So if you are unsure what is going on please hang in there, it probably won't make perfect sense until the end. Sometimes it will be very dark, sometimes it will be very lighthearted, like life there are extreme ups and downs. I'm so happy to finally be getting this written, I tried to make the story I would want to read, I love it very much.
I always put a song to each chapter, sometimes to if it is very long. The first one is:
"Because of Me" by Seether
One last thing, All titles are in Hindi, this also, will make sense shortly.
Weapon, Chapter One: Mamale ki Sacca i', The Truth of the Matter
There was fog, swirling, too warm, dense as water. It pressed hard against his wide open eyes as it held him to the bottom, he gasped and choked on it, it surged into his lungs. His whole body ached and seared alternately skin, muscle, his very skeleton screamed out in pain. He bade it back in the way that only one practiced in compartmentalizing could and tried to gather his thoughts, as they whizzed about his head like stray firecrackers, into some loose semblance of order.
Beneath him and unseen surface vibrated in the unmistakable cadence of footsteps, the feather soft resonation grated against his skull and suddenly he knew who was coming.
His thin mouth tipped up at one of the corners with no humor to be had and he tilted his head back a little to speak "You win".
The other person did not respond but an old, time weathered hand extended to him and with nothing to lose he reached up and grasped it.
There was a tired huff from somewhere currently too high over head to contemplate and then suddenly he was being hauled to his feet. He did not consciously make the decision to stand, but his mind sent the impulses to his body and his muscles complied with a shriek of white hot agony that nearly sent him back into blackness.
Pathetically, he drew a slow, shuddering breath and battled to remain upright.
"What cured you?", his unlikely aid asked and he barred his teeth at the hated voice.
"Dumbledore", he bit out, "Come to throw it in my face?"
The old man shook his head and had the gall to smile at him, "No".
"Then what do you want?" he dead panned, not in the mood for the phsycotherapy session that always seemed to be part of his encounters with the elderly wizard.
"I should think that what you want would be a more appropriate question to be asking".
As unlikely as the notion sounded he was almost never pushed to the point of muggle violence but at that moment he had never wanted to punch someone so badly.
Instead he snorted derisively, "Fool. Do I look like I Know?"
Dumbeldore frowned momentarily and shook his head, "You must, else you wouldn't be human again".
Ah-the whole limbo snag, leave it to the old man to drag that up, "But of course," he snarled, fighting for control of his emotions, "Clearly I am the residing expert in both matters of the soul and the after life as you have so kindly pointed out upon many occasions".
"Enough Tom, We no longer have any dispute between us, I'm a guide for those that pass through this place, nothing more".
A question he would swear did not exist burned on his tongue, it tasted curiously of shame, he tugged pensively at the the sleeve of his robes and said nothing.
"She came through", the ex-teacher told him pointedly.
His shoulders drew ridged , "What on earth are you referring to old man?".
Watery grey eyes pierced him and their owner looked displeased "When will you stop deluding yourself, I've never understood that part of you. I've seen far less clever men than you chase truth to the ends of the earth but you never heard that particular sirens call. So I search for the cause that drives you but find none. There are many that would say you live by no morals but we both recognize that you do. Your code of ethics is so far separated from those of society that it is almost impossible to decipher. On what foundation to you build those regulations?"
He did not have the patience for this, he needed to get out of here..."Speak plainly", he said, voice harsh as he could effectively pitch it.
"She asked about you", Dumbledore lowered his voice to a conspirational murmur, "I could hardly get her to tell me what happened, she was so very preoccupied with it".
This, he sighed heavily, this was the last thing he wanted to discuss with the old man. Nevertheless the promise of explanation was not something he would pass up.
"Tell me then, old friend, what was behind that mess?", Why hadn't she said something? "Obviously I was not a suitable confidant. After all, the matter hardly concerned me", he finished bitterly.
"Could you truly fault her?", Dumbledore replied skeptically.
"I had a right to be informed, the obvious reason aside, as her commander I wouldn't have sent her into battle that way!" he protested.
"Wouldn't you?", the old man queried.
"Damn it old fool, you claim to know me. Did I not leave Malfoy's family intact for as long as circumstances permitted me to? Did I not always send the Carrows as a pair? I did not separate blood merely for it's own sake!", he wasn't blind to the bonds the kin forged among his ranks, "In the end I kept her with Narcissa near constantly, lot of good that accomplished. Now, if you intend to share what she said then do so", he drew weary breath, "and if you plan to deny me that be done with it".
"I hardly think it is my right to divulge this", the head master told him solemnly, he nodded similarly and turned to go, "However, given your situation I doubt it could do any harm now. Come, walk with me and I will tell you".
He offered a curt, "Thank you".
He slid into step beside the man he hated more than anyone else and began the most profoundly personal and uncomfortable discussion of his existence...
How was the prologue? Confused yet? Review and let me know. : )