I don't own Harry Potter.
This is my first major Bellatrix fic. Yes, I realize she's a big character in Draco's Illness, but this one is all about her, not Draco. Bellamort!
I sat in the cold dark for fourteen years, waiting for this moment. I watched Rodolfus rot away in this prison. Azkaban's dementors take all your happiest memories and replace them with nightmares and a cold that seeps into your very soul. But all those years only made me stronger. Now I know it was not in vain, was never in vain. Again, the snake writhes on my arm and I cradle it like a sweet baby. Then, with a shattering blast, the walls of Azkaban break away and I am free. Free of everything. Wandlessly, easily, I apparate to my lord's side. There is a wand waiting for me on the table and I take it with awe. It's a good wand, no doubt hand-picked just for me. I quickly change my shreds of prison clothes to my favorite style of black dress. How long has it been since I was dressed in my own fashion? Though my hair has become tangled and ratty during the long years in prison, it is amazingly easy to style it with my wand. The other Death-Eaters arrive soon, a few of them taking wands off the table and changing their prison clothes to robes themselves. My lord stands at the head of the table, watching us, waiting for something, but why? He has the power to make the meeting commence without delay, but he does not. His eyes drift to me and stop in a moment that makes my heart stop. He has changed as well in the fourteen years. But I pay that no mind; he is still my lord and secretly my love. Coming to his side has always been my form of crack, my obsession. During the meeting, I listen intently; why shouldn't I after all? Afterwards, he tells me to remain while the others leave. My heart stops and my breath catches. Any time, even a second, alone with the Dark Lord is an honor and privilege. I obligingly remain in my seat, feeling the jealous stares of the others on my back. But I pay them no mind; my gaze is stuck on my lord's own stare. After the last one, he waves his wand and locks all the doors and pulls the shades on the windows, making the room a wonderful dark. Candles light themselves in the corners of the room, casting shadows in a deliciously dark way. The Dark Lord speaks to me and it makes my soul cry out for what kept me alive those long years in Azkaban.
"You are a faithful servant, Bellatrix. My most faithful servant, you went to Azkaban for fourteen years for me even when most thought me to be dead."
"It was my duty as your follower, my lord."
"No," He shakes his head, "you went beyond duty and I reward such deeds. What suffering did you go through for me, my Bella?"
I don't understand the last of what he says, but recognize it as Parsletounge. My heart thuds in my chest and I hope he can't see me blush. He moves toward me and embraces me, pulling me to a stand. Our lips part and our tongues explore each other's mouths. We suddenly become more passionate and end up on the table. My dress is removed, as are his robes, and I feel his fingers trace my entire body. Then, slowly at first but then more willingly, he enters me. I feel him stiffen and lengthen and I moan for more. What nails I have left from my prison time dig into his back as I thrust myself upward to aid in the enchanting moments to come. We climax at the same time and when it is over, he slowly exits me. Then we lie there on the table, breathless and exhausted. Slowly, gently, I turn onto my side and trace his body with a finger. The long fourteen years of my imprisonment made me stronger, my practice on various lovers and my husband gave me experience, but nothing could ever have prepared me for what's happening.
The next morning, after a few more times of entering bliss, I am awake and in a bed. The sheets are silky and black. My lord is nearby, speaking to Nagini. I make no sound as I sit up, pulling the sheets up about myself not so much for modesty after last night. Nagini sees me and hisses to him before slithering off. My lord turns and comes toward me and gently caresses my face, but does no more. Somehow, however, that simple touch does more for me than years of healing could ever have done. He leaves the room, his robes billowing behind him. I close my eyes and remember the night before. I gaze at the mark on my arm, marking me as owned and giving me pride. I get up and stand off the bed. The cold of the floor makes me shake but somehow warms me inside. I put my black dress on and charm my hair to style itself. As I walk soundlessly out of the room, I charm the bed to make itself, repaying my lord a little for allowing me to sleep there. I walk down a hallway and find my lord speaking again to Nagini. Suddenly I feel self-conscious; what were they saying that required being away from me even though I'm not a Parslemouth? I back away into the shadows and soundlessly return to the room I just exited. I gaze at my image in a mirror and am shocked. When did I change from being drop dead gorgeous to simply beautiful? Slowly I touch my hollowed face, looking at my dull eyes and sharpened features. I had grown skinny in Azkaban, and my years of suffering show in every inch of my face. But my lord will forever more love me as me: Bellatrix, Bella, his most noble and faithful follower and his most willing bed warmer. But I am more than a bed warmer, I am the Dark Lord's pretty playmate, and that is possibly the most comforting and priding thought I can ever have.
A/N: Okay like I said, this is my first Bella/Voldemort fic but I love them oh so much! Another thing I love: REVIEWS! Please, oh please, give me what I love. Thank you in advance because I know that you know that you want to push that little button. The one right down there. Go on, push it. Why are you still reading this? Make your fingers hurt as much as your eyes, TYPE ME A REVIEW! in a small voice, whimpers that you still haven't pushed the button and given me a review…