"My Lord, are you certain I look all right? I'm worried… I still look ill."
Bellatrix turned away from the boudoir mirror, adjusting her sleeveless leather tunic and gauntlets. Her hair had been yanked back into a ferocious-looking knot. This was the first meeting she'd be attending at Voldemort's side as The Dark Lady, the first since making her Horcrux. She frowned when she heard no reply, and she huffed a breath as she returned her attention to her cosmetics case.
She unscrewed the tin of Madam Mahoney's Cover-All Cream and smeared a bit under her eyes. It helped with the dark bags, at least a little. Bellatrix pulled out her stick of charcoal black eyeliner and drew thicker lines; perhaps if she focused attention there; people would pay less heed to her sunken cheeks. Suddenly a reflection appeared in the mirror, a wizard behind her with his hands on her shoulders. Lord Voldemort tipped his head and noted,
"You look thin."
"Well, I've lost quite a lot of weight," Bellatrix admitted. She'd been thin before; she was emaciated now. As if to reiterate that point, Voldemort let his hands trail down her torso and settled his fingers through the leather until she could tell he was counting out her ribs. He frowned into the mirror as she put her eyeliner away, and he insisted,
"You're going to have cake for dinner."
Bellatrix sighed. "Did you lose your appetite afterward?"
"No," Voldemort shrugged, "but you healed differently than I did. I didn't have anyone there to take the pain away so quickly. You handled the whole process better. I… all I know is that you need to eat. I'm going to dose you with Famishing Draught tonight and tomorrow night until I can't poke between your ribs. Understood?"
Bellatrix nodded and shut her cosmetics case. She rose slowly and turned to face him. She felt her eyes well just a little as she suggested,
"I'm ugly to you now. After making the Horcrux. My face looks so ill; my body is so thin. You're not attracted to me."
Voldemort scoffed and shook his head roughly. "How very disrespectful of you to put untrue words into my mouth like that, Bellatrix. I love you, and that's why I had you make a Horcrux. It's why I married you."
"Would you still do it, if you could try all over again?"
He frowned. "Do what? Marry you?"
"There might have been someone better," Bellatrix said meekly, but Voldemort shook his head and quirked up his shoulders.
"You do realise, don't you, that there could never - not in a hundred thousand years - be anyone else? Not under any circumstances whatsoever. So, yes, Bellatrix, I would still do it. I would marry you again… and again, and again, and again."
Bellatrix smirked and whispered, "I do believe once does the trick, Master. Shall we go downstairs?"
"Yes. You look beautiful. Stop sulking." Voldemort snatched Bellatrix's hand and practically dragged her from the suite.
She really did look ill. It had been days since she'd made the Horcrux, but she looked like Muggles did when they had influenza. She was pale and clammy, even with the makeup. People did seem a little worried, especially her father. So halfway through the meeting, Voldemort said rather imperiously,
"The Dark Lady has performed powerful magic. None of you are permitted details for security reasons, but suffice it to say that I can confidently declare her the most accomplished Dark witch in Britain today."
He let that sink in for a moment as Bellatrix smiled weakly, and the others looked at one another, very impressed. They could speculate all they wanted about what sort of magic she'd done. Maybe she'd wiped out an entire species of Magical Creatures. Maybe she'd created a storm from scratch. Maybe she'd murdered someone and made an Inferius. None of them would guess she'd made a Horcrux, and that was fine. They'd see that whatever she'd done had been enough to make her look ill and had been enough to make her lord and master and husband exceedingly proud of her.
"Friends," Voldemort said after a time, "Today I wish to introduce to you the newest member of our ranks. As you know, many are now clamoring to serve as Death Eaters. Whilst I allow many of them to serve me as Ministry plants or thugs, the honour of being a Death Eater is reserved only for those whose minds I have examined and trust, and those with the capacity to lead my lesser troops."
Everyone round the table seemed pleased with themselves at that declaration, so Voldemort gave it a moment to sit. Then he beckoned to the round-cheeked, kind-faced young wizard who had been a Ravenclaw in the same year as Bellatrix. She nodded with recognition at him as he nervously approached the Dark Lord.
"This is Cato Burke. Many of you know him and his grandfather, Caractacus, of Borgin and Burke's. I have known Caractacus for a good long while. Cato, it is said that you were among the most intelligent Arithmancy students ever seen at Hogwarts. You are particularly good with numbers, calculations, and logic-based predictions. Is that right?"
"I do my best with them, My Lord." Cato bowed his head, and then he added, "I would do my best in every capacity for you… Master."
Voldemort felt a slick stream of satisfaction go through his veins. He looked up to Bellatrix's father and said,
"Cygnus. You will take on Cato as your assistant. As our financial situation grows more complicated, I daresay you could use an apprentice."
"Thank you, Master. Merciful, indeed. I shall appreciate any and all work Cato might do," said Lord Voldemort's father-in-law. Voldemort looked back up at tall, broad Cato with his kindly hazel eyes, and he said,
"Extend the left arm."
Cato did, and Voldemort traced the rough shape of the Dark Mark on his forearm as he murmured, "Morsmordre."
Those around the table hissed in pain as their own Marks burned. Voldemort's did, too; it did every time he made a new one. Voldemort pulled his wand away as Cato stared in awe at the Mark that was fading from black to maroon to pink.
"You belong to me now," Voldemort said. "Kneel and declare yourself."
Cato Burke dropped quickly to one knee and bowed his head as if in prayer.
"Most benevolent and fearsome Master, I am your eternal and loyal servant. I shall fight for you, gladly unto the death, and so long as I live, my every action will be in your service."
He rose slowly then as those around the table applauded, and Cato smiled happily, his gaze lingering for a half second on Bellatrix. He sat, and Bellatrix's eyes stayed locked on him. Voldemort frowned and cleared his throat before dismissing the meeting.
Hours later, he and Bellatrix sat eating in their suite. She was finally devouring a steak, thanks to him drugging her into hunger, but she was going slowly. Voldemort had already finished his steak and roast potato, so he set down his knife and fork and said,
"You're the most brilliant Occlumens I've ever seen, so I demand that you tell the truth to me now when I ask it."
Bellatrix looked up from her steak, surprised. She chewed and swallowed her bite and swigged at her wine, and she asked,
"Whatever is the matter, Master?"
"How well do you and Cato Burke know one another?"
Bellatrix's cheeks coloured, but she insisted, "We knew one another at school. We were friendly acquaintances in classes."
"Liar," Voldemort hissed, and Bellatrix's cheeks went scarlet. He yanked hard on the tablecloth, sending all their dishes and food flying in a mess to the floor. He wandlessly, nonverbally Vanished it all and lifted himself up, leaning across the table. "Tell me the truth."
"We were only… only fourteen and fifteen, My Lord," Bellatrix whispered, and Voldemort sneered,
"What, you were his little girlfriend?"
Bellatrix shrugged helplessly. "It was only a few months; we only snogged one another a few times, and -"
"You kissed that boy?" Voldemort staggered backward, and Bellatrix's eyes went wide as she exclaimed,
"I had a husband! I know he's dead, but surely you haven't forgotten he existed!"
"How dare you speak to me like that!" Voldemort rushed over to Bellatrix and snatched at her twig-thin arm. She yelped in pain as he wrenched her up, and he instantly released her. He gasped, realising he'd hurt her, and he stared at his own hand. Then he blinked a few times and gulped, licking his dry lips. He shut his eyes and mumbled,
"You're right. It's stupid. You were only children. I had my own past."
"Yes, like Myrandae, who told all of Hogwarts how big your cock was," Bellatrix said, and when Voldemort opened his eyes, she was rubbing her arm. She added hesitantly, "Master."
"I apologise for my silly reaction," Voldemort said tightly. "It is only that I noticed the two of you make eye contact."
"I believe he's with Zahara Shacklebolt these days, My Lord," Bellatrix said, still rubbing at her arm. "And I'm married to the Dark Lord. None of what happened when we were fourth-years matters, does it?"
She blinked a few times and winced, and Voldemort could see that she'd have bruises in the shape of his fingerprints. He scowled at that, for it reminded him of the time Rodolphus had left bruises on her neck. That had angered Voldemort so much he'd almost killed Rodolphus.
"Accio Butterfly Weed Balm." He held his hand out, feeling a little tired from all this wandless magic. He caught the tin of balm when it soared at him from their Potions stores, and he set the lid on the empty table. As he scooped a little onto the pad of his finger and rubbed it onto Bellatrix's tiny bicep, he murmured, "I'm very sorry I hurt you. That was wrong of me, and stupid. You didn't finish eating. I'll send for more food."
"I'm not hungry, My Lord," Bellatrix whispered, and when Voldemort raised his eyes, there were lines of kohl-stained black tears streaming down her cheeks. Had he hurt her that badly? He reached for his wand and aimed it at her arm.
"Allevio."
"No, it's… I think of him sometimes. I'm sorry. I can't help it." Bellatrix swiped at her tears, which just sent black smearing all over her face. Rodolphus, she meant. Voldemort silently put the lid back on the Butterfly Weed Balm and Banished it to the stores. Before he could say anything, Bellatrix sniffed a little and said, "It doesn't matter. He doesn't matter anymore. You are all that matters to me."
She looked pathetic then. She looked sick, and her eyes flashed burgundy, and her face was covered in black eyeliner, and Voldemort felt more profoundly guilty than he'd ever felt in his entire life.
"Go take a shower," he whispered. "Your face is a mess."
Author's Note: Hello, dear readers! I wound up not writing a Star Wars fic (just wasn't inspired to do so!), but I did write a Dramione fic. Now I'm back to wanting to explore this storyverse a bit more. As you can tell from this first chapter, Lord Voldemort isn't content to have simply married Bellatrix. He was jealous of Rodolphus, and he's going to continue finding ways to let jealousy and possessiveness create problems - even where they don't really exist. As for Bellatrix, she's got to get back to her healthy self in the wake of making a Horcrux… and I think we could do with a good old make-up lemon, yeah? All aboard the Bellamort Express! Choo choo! :) As always, your feedback is extremely valued. Fifty points to your House for a comment or review. ;)