Since I'm feeling slightly clever this fic is for two challenges. Firstly it is for the Word Limit Competition which had to be 2,500 words (this is 2,514) and feature the prompt 'Take the Chance'. Secondly it is for the One Line Competition 2 where the first line of the fic had to be "the locked door fascinated and puzzled her". A metaphor hit me straight again so this is what was created.
I should also point out that this is yet another version of my head canon featuring a slightly more daring and even a little more dominant Bella.
The locked door fascinated and puzzled her. From the moment Bellatrix had encountered the door, it had confused her. She had no idea how a door could be so firmly locked. She understood some doors were partially closed, but she could not comprehend the extent of which this door was bolted and shut by hundreds of unbreakable charms.
It was unnatural. There had to be something particular prevalent about the locks and why they were there. Her glassy dark eyes could not stop focusing on the door.. She tried to focus on other doors, but it was impossible.
The door was always in her thoughts; at night when she slept, when she was in battle and when she was in conversation with anyone.
It was an obsession that never ended no matter how inappropriate it was.
In the past she knew others had realised her obsession with the door. She had been accused on a number of occasions by her comrades and her fiancée. She even knew Narcissa, who had never even seen the door before, was unsure and uncertain.
Technically Bellatrix had never seen the door either. It was locked and protected so strongly that she suspected no one had ever encountered the door. She only knew it must have existed. How could it not? It might have been small, black and locked, but it had to be there.
Staring down at the hard wooden table before her, the voice in the room engulfed her as she fisted her hands in her robes. Flicking her eyes to the black robed figure beside her, she focused on Rodolphus. He was a little taller than her with a strong build, well defined abs and muscular arms which she enjoyed watching be used to strange the life out of filth. His eyes were bright blue and his attractive face was dotted with stubble that felt glorious against her skin.
It was logical to think about Rodolphus. It was what pretty and perfect Narcissa would have done.
She could not.
Her eyes and mind only focused on Rodolphus for a brief moment before it turned to the glorious, spectacular, majestic locked door.
Black eyes flicked to the figure at the end of the table. Folds and curls of black robes encircled and engulfed the entirety of the frame that was so different to Rodolphus; half a foot taller with a body that was so thin it was skeletal and seemed unhealthy. However, that was merely judged by the mere confines of what a normal human would require for sustenance.
The Dark Lord was so much more.
In the dimly lit room, his skin was luminous coating a face that was like a marble statue that a torch had been held too. His voice was cold and commanding; holding the attention of the room despite the fact it was unusually soft. It sent her entire body on fire and her nerves aflame.
The only thing that could impact her any further was his eyes; bloodied, red rimmed with only the finest trace of midnight blue underneath.
They turned to her. Immediately she flushed pink and lowered her eyes.
No matter what anyone else said, her heart was an open door. It was screaming and urging her on towards the locked door that was her master's heart. She had to try. She had to take a chance to reach that locked door.
Just not tonight.
Next time.
Admittedly she did not take the chance the next time she saw her Master or even the time after that. She was not foolish or naive; she did not expect him to return her affections, at least not now. She just knew she wanted him. She knew from all the dreams and fantasies that constantly filled her mind that she could never be satisfied until she had been in his bed. The locked door that was his heart was one thing, but that would be a second step not the first.
Stepping through the doorway of the Dark Lord's home, with shaky hands she lowered her hood and exposed tendrils of silky locks before she moved to the sitting room where she would normally meet him. Ever since she had received her mark, the Dark Lord had been teaching her the Dark Arts. It was an honour and she knew his tutelage was increasing her skill.
However, it did not help her problems; her lust and affection for him grew, his heart remained locked and any reciprocation was absent. It only left her with more time trapped with her emotions.
She did not complain. How could she if it meant she was in the presence of her Lord for a longer duration of time?
Steeling herself for something more than curses and possibly something more deadly, she stepped into the room.
He was already there. Directly opposite her, he stood by the window, his long arms resting on the sill as he stared out at the grounds. His mind was no doubt full of thoughts that no mere mortal could comprehend.
She did not want to interrupt him. She could have waited for hours feeling the tendrils of his presence fill her up and tracing her eyes over his black robed form. She might have even been able to freeze her desire to take the chance she desperately wanted to take.
It did not last.
"Bellatrix," he greeted curtly as he spun on his heel and stepped towards her, "you have made your appearance as requested."
Choking down all her fears and worries, she attempted to keep herself composed. Bowing her head, she took a few steps closer towards him. "Of course, my Lord. I follow all of your orders without question. There is no greater joy than being in your presence."
It was only a brief flicker from her heart, but it was all you she could show. It was like standing of the precepts of a cliff and thinking, 'How do I make that leap?'
"Good, the muggle is in the cellar." Without a care in the world the Dark Lord made his declaration and strode towards the doorway she was in.
She should have moved. She should have bowed obediently and followed him to the muggle and what should only have been a Dark Arts lesson.
Though, that was one part of her. Another urged her to stand still, to wait until the Dark Lord was close and take that chance; pressing her lips to his or opening her heart to try to loosen the bolts around that cursed locked door.
Diving below the deep end, her hands focused on the door and stood her ground.
Clearly not one who was experienced at someone not moving out of his way, the Dark Lord halted only a few inches from her. His eyes hardened. As he raised one eyebrow, all of her passions and desires struggled to not shine through her eyes as her heart beat at the treasured close proximity.
"There is another reason I am here- other than my lesson," she murmured, her voice wavering under his unamused and unyielding expression. "Something else."
Why was taking that final step so difficult? Why could she not close the gap like she could with other men?
Because he was not an ordinary man and, even in her mind, those thoughts sounded treasonous. The waves of sheer power coming off him were overwhelming. She could have easily shut her eyes and just leaned in and soaked them up like a spurge, but that would be so simple.
She needed to crack open the door and everything she desired.
With a great amount of difficulty, she stepped back a few steps from her Lord so she was completely in the doorway and moved her hands to the buttons of her robes. One by one, she unclipped each until her robes slid down her curves and left her only in lace black underwear.
The entire time Bellatrix never took her eyes off the Dark Lord.
She did not learn anything from him. His face was just another locked door as he stood still with eyes on her body like how you would examine a dull and aging textbook rather than a young, attractive, half-naked woman.
It would be so easy to turn around and forget she had even taken a chance.
She could not. The embarrassment would be too overwhelming and, coming so far, how could she turn back? Besides, he was not angry.
Cautiously she stepped towards him.
He did not flinch. Standing firm, the Dark Lord's face remained expressionless as he stared down at her.
She took another step. There were only a few inches from them now. He still merely watched, but she saw a crease in the corners of his lips. Good or bad she did not know.
It did not halt her movements. She was not accustomed to acting without his orders. She already had and she was about to cross that line. Like touching fire there was no way she would not lose her hand, but was there no better use for her hand.
Staring directly into the Dark Lord's eyes, she took a shaky breath and covered the space between them with her hand. She did not try to explode the hinges of the locked door, but only to start easing them open slowly.
Her hand found the buttons on his black robes just above his navel. She only got two undone before her hand was seized in a vice grip.
"What are you doing?" he seethed like a snake spitting venom.
Terror shot through her, though she forced herself to keep calm. She had gone too far now. She had to do this. Even if it felt like her arm would drop off from the grip, her free hand joined the assault.
"I want to serve you," she said softly and as respectfully as she could while she attempted to mask her desire as her hand slipped inside his robes.
It was quite possible that two blackened hearts skipped as her fingers met the cool flesh just below his navel. The Dark Lord did not drop her other hand nor did he stop her as her fingers slipped under the only material blocking her goal.
She was immediately surprised. It was not only the fact she had not been cursed, but it felt alarmingly like any other man, perhaps just with cooler flesh. Her heart raced and her cheeks flushed red from the sheer adrenaline as her hands caressed up and down her target with a strange amount of reverence.
The Dark Lord's mannerisms were the opposite. He stood alarmingly still like a statue. He continued to grip her other hand painfully while he breathed evenly and glared at her. She would have suspected he did not feel anything if the skin below her hand was not growing harder.
"Master," she murmured as she stepped onto her tiptoes to reach his ear. It was difficult to resist the urge to kiss him. "All I want is to please you, to serve you."
She felt the flesh under her hand react to her words and, more reluctant than she had ever been in her life, she dropped her grip on him. She had only intended for it to be brief pause so she could push him back onto the couch behind him, but she did not get that chance. Like a fire that had suddenly flared to life, the marble awoke and she thought the door might have opened. Before she could comprehend, cold lips were over her own in a passionate and powerful kiss that epitomised his presence.
She did not resist. No thought of resiting ever flicked into life as she was the one pressed backwards into the couch. In a quicker time than she could have ever predicted, her underwear was gone and she was in bliss while she moaned his title loudly.
She had never been more pleased she had taken a chance. She was sure she had seen a sneak peek into the doorway beyond and she would soon see the rest.
Bellatrix was wrong.
Both breathing heavily, the Dark Lord's weight was blessing and comforting as he still lay on top of her and tried to catch his breath. She only smiled and ran her hands up and down his smooth bony back.
It was how it should be. It felt so right and like it meant something more.
Pressing up against her chest was another chest and she could feel a heart beating loud and clear like any other. She had always known he had a heart now she had proof. Why did she need anyone but him? In this moment it felt like everything was right and everything in her wildest fantasies was coming true.
It only lasted a minute.
Suddenly and too quickly for her wildest nightmares, the Dark Lord pushed her hands away and stood up.
"My Lord?" she questioned as she sat up. The Dark Lord had her back to her trying to straighten and button his robes that were in disarray, though she did not do anything to hide her nudity.
"Get up, Bellatrix," he ordered abruptly without any reference to their encounter. "Get dressed."
Frozen she stared at him with wide eyes. "My Lo-"
"Now!" he snarled, turning rapidly on her anger in his voice "Stop acting the whore, get off that couch and get dressed."
She could never disobey him. Standing, she tried and failed to restore her dignity as she gathered her clothes and dressed quickly. When she was done and looked up at him, he was staring away and at the window like when she had first found him.
"My Lo-"
"Go," he ordered briskly. "I have no more use for you. Go home."
All of her dreams of opened doors filtered away like sand.
She had not opened the door.
It could never be opened.
Choking back tears, she turned and obeyed.
As she lay in bed that night, she concluded it had been foolish for her to take such a risky chance. The Dark Lord was only angry and furious. She would never be able to open the door to his heart. It was frozen over and no one could touch it.
A week later she was summoned by the Dark Lord and she found herself in his bed. After she was again abruptly dismissed, the pain was there, but it has somehow had dulled into acceptance. Time and time again it occurred. He never showed her any real affection, yet it started to not bother her. Somehow she was started to realise she was closer to her Lord than anyone else and she should be eternally grateful.
She might never be able to open the locked door, though, in those brief moments when she rested in her Master's arms and felt his heart beating against hers, she knew it existed.
It made it worth taking the chance.