1.

Bellatrix stood surveying the back lawn of the sprawling manor, glass of wine in one hand, the other resting precariously on her chest. Her rings caught a rare flash of sunlight through the thunderheads which were rolling in, and drew her eye down to her perfectly manicured hand as another silent tear fell onto her unoccupied hand. Her eyes were greyer today than they were blue; the whites of her eyes more pink than they were white. She'd been married eight months, but she didn't feel like there would ever come a time where she didn't feel empty.

She looked down at the glass in her hand and watched herself pour the remainder of her wine onto the grass.

Two hundred galleons a bottle, Bellatrix, she imagined her mother's voice snarling. Two hundred galleons and you're using it to water the bloody lawn.

But she would never know. This was a side of Bellatrix that she would never see. She'd gotten very good at putting up a front. She could show what she wanted to show, nothing more and nothing less. She was a perfect pureblood monster. Exactly what her mother had always wanted.

Bellatrix turned back to the manor, looking it over carefully. Rodolphus was still on an assignment, and as long as he was, it would be her responsibility to make sure that things were running smoothly. She was proud of her husband. He was a true asset to the Dark Lord and the cause, which they both supported. He was marked; he was in the Dark Lord's inner circle. As a pureblood, she couldn't have asked for more in a mate. But more than that, he was her everything. He was her support; he was her partner and her equal. As a wife, she could not have been more fortunate. He was madly in love with her, and she with him.

So, when he asked her to keep everything in order at the manor for the week while he was away, she was more than happy to agree. As she was not yet marked, Bellatrix knew that the best way to support the efforts of both her husband and the Death Eaters would be to make sure that their headquarters was undisturbed in the absence of those meant to protect it.

The manor itself had been a gift from her husbands' parents once they had graduated, in celebration of their marriage. It was the home that Rodolphus and his brother, Rabastan, had grown up in. They'd spent many years in the house, and it made it the ideal place for the young couple to live, as well as a sensible home out of which they could oversee the operations of the Death Eaters. Rodolphus knew every nook, cranny, hidden staircase, secret room, and dungeon within that house, which luckily made it easy when the two decided they needed to get away from the rest of the men.

Once the manor had been furnished for them and they had settled comfortably, the Dark Lord made it clear that he wished them to house a few of his servants, as some of them had been on the run from the Ministry for quite some time. Most of them were men who she had grown up around. Her father, Cygnus, was active among Voldemort's followers, and so she'd met many of the Death Eaters in her younger years. Macnair was one who she actually shared a close friendship with when she was a child. Yaxley had only been a few years older than her in school, and they'd been in the same house. Many other Death Eaters found themselves coming and going as they pleased, since most of the meetings were held at the Lestrange Manor. So, Bellatrix usually left the guest bedrooms prepared, and expected to have a few people who would stay a while before or after each of their meetings.

The Dark Lord's main reason for wanting to use Lestrange Manor as their headquarters was Bellatrix herself. When she had still been in school, he had taken her under his wing, trained her, and tested her to improve her combat and dueling skills. At the young age of eighteen, she still had a long way to go, but Voldemort was confident in her skills as a duelist, and felt no worry in leaving her alone to guard the house while the Death Eaters were away. She would take the mark eventually, but for now, he decided that the best role for Bellatrix was that of housewife and future mother; she was to further the pureblood race.

What perfect children Rodolphus and I will have, she thought as thunder sounded above her. Looking around, she sighed, and headed for the manor. A house elf was waiting to open the door for her in a low bow, take the empty glass from her, and ask whether she required a shoe shining. Ignoring the beast, Bellatrix walked quickly to Great Room, where the men were usually bustling around. The normally lively house seemed dull and dead in their absence.

Ten days ago, the Dark Lord was seated at the head of the now empty banquet table. Ten days ago, he had laid out his plan. A few Death Eaters were being sent to France to return immediately with the French Prime Minister. He knew too much, and he was about to organize a peace treaty with the Ministry of Magic. Of course, this was unacceptable. Peace with muggles was not what the Death Eaters have been working to achieve, not what Voldemort had set his sights on. The entire undertaking would take five days.

Rodolphus' involvement in the plan had been a last minute modification. His father, Lord Lestrange, had been the intended translator on the mission, but as he was currently tied up in a few affairs in Russia, Rodolphus had been the last minute solution. He had been informed the morning that they were to be leaving, and Bellatrix had been notified less than a half an hour before they apparated.

"Ma chérie," he had whispered in her ear, waking her. "My darling, they need me to go with them. They need me to translate." He brushed the hair off her cheek and pulled her against his chest, holding her possessively.

She hadn't immediately understood what he was saying. She assumed he was referring to something local, and that he would come back that evening, like always. She had yawned and thrown her arms around her husband's neck, planting tired kisses on his neck and chest. Though Rodolphus was only a couple years older than her (he was twenty one to her eighteen years), he was nearly a full foot taller, but his dark eyes still shone with youth and playfulness. She kissed her husband once more and threw herself dramatically backwards into the bed, making a quip about having made plans for them to spend the day cuddling.

When she finally got out of bed and noticed his packed bag, she knew that there was nothing that she could say that would change the Dark Lord's mind about Rodolphus' involvement in the kidnapping of the Prime Minister, so Bellatrix took a deep breath, and wished her love luck.

Now, nine days later, she spent nearly every moment wondering whether he'd be back. For the first couple days, she'd jumped every time she heard a house elf apparate, and after the fourth day of his absence, she'd forbidden them from doing so. So when she heard the "pop" of apparition, she immediately turned on her heel and ran into the foyer, drawing her wand instinctively.

She kept hope at the back of her mind, and advanced slowly towards the staircase. Above her, she could hear heavy footsteps making their way towards her. Keeping her eyes trained on a spot at the end of the hall, she stopped at the base of the staircase. This was unnecessary, however, as she heard the new arrival before she saw him.

"Evenin', girly."

At the top of the stairs, wearing his trademarked shit-eating grin, stood Fenrir Greyback.

"Greyback," she responded with a half-grin. "I wasn't expecting you. Come with me." Bellatrix lowered her wand and walked into a smaller room off the foyer, her personal office, Greyback lumbering behind her. She took a seat behind her desk and kicked her feet up, motioning for him to sit across from her. She snapped her fingers and a house elf stepped out of a small passage from the corner of the room, bowing so low his forehead was mere inches off the ground.

"Bottle o' Firewhiskey," the werewolf said offhandedly before turning back to Bellatrix, who waved the elf off. "We have business to discuss."

"Do we? I've heard of no such business. You haven't been around in months, you never write, never come to any of the dinners I've invi—"

"You know why I haven't come, Miss Black. It wasn't anything against you."

Greyback had trained Bellatrix for a few months during her years at Hogwarts. He'd taught her much of what she knew, and had exposed her to the harsh realities of life beyond the entitlement brought upon her by her pureblood lineage. They were friends, despite the incident that brought their training sessions to a close.

"Yes," Bellatrix responded harshly. "My husband. And now that he's away, you see it fit once more to drop in for a visit. How very brave of you. And it's Lestrange, not Black. But you'd have known that if you'd responded to the wedding invitation."

Taken aback at Bellatrix's sudden hostility, Greyback pushed forward with what he'd come to discuss. Normally he'd have wasted no time putting the girl in her place, but his orders no longer included punishing her insolence. This time, the tables seemed to have turned a bit, and this child was the only one who stood in the way of ensuring the safety of his pack from the wrath of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters.

"I'm not here to argue 'bout weddings or titles Miss Lestrange," he said, mimicking her tone. "And I don't want to waste your precious bloody time. I'm here on orders from the Dark Lord himself."

Bellatrix giggled and played along. "The Dark Lord himself? Oh, I see. It's strange that the Dark Lord have made plans that involved my home and my cooperation, yet would not have contacted me." She finished with a smile, eagerly awaiting Greyback's response.

"Don't you trust me, girly?"

"Trust," she snarled loudly, standing so quickly that her chair fell over behind her. She walked slowly towards Greyback, who was looking up at her emotionlessly. She continued on as she reached down into her boot, spitting her words at him. "Don't I trust you? How dare you ask me that question? I trusted you with my life, Fenrir. But any trust, any confidence, any belief that I may have had in you was absolutely obliterated that night."

Bellatrix was standing directly in front of him now. Her face was only inches from his and the knife she'd pulled from her boot was nervously close to his throat. Greyback had never been a particularly eloquent speaker, so especially now, face to face with an angry witch, a witch whom he'd trained personally in the art of torture and dueling, he bit his tongue.

Bellatrix stood over him for a minute, as if expecting an answer. By the time she decided that there was nothing that he could say that would appease her, it felt like it had been an eternity. An eternity spent choking back tears as she looked into the eyes of the friend who'd let her down. She stepped away from him and leaned against the small desk. Her breathing was steadying, and Greyback could hear her heart calming.

"What business do you have to discuss," she managed.

"I was sent here," Greyback began cautiously, "to discuss a new system with you. A group. Led by me, overseen and controlled by you." The word was sour on his tongue. Controlled by this child? The Dark Lord must have been running low on Death Eaters to put someone so young in such a position.

Bellatrix straightened regally at the word. Her face contorted into a twisted sort of smile. Greyback had seen this look once before—it had led to the earning of one of his many scars; the one in question being a large one across his throat and chest.

"Controlled by me," she repeated, nodding. "Sounds good on paper, I'm sure. What does it involve?"

"It would be a group of us, me and some o' the pack, who would be in charge of snatching up 'undesirables.' You would tell us who we would need to find, and we would find them, and bring them to you, or to the Dark Lord, or…"

"…or?"

"Or take care of 'em ourselves," he finished with a grin. He watched for a moment, as she seemed to be mulling over the potential consequences or rewards of her own involvement.

"I admire your dedication to your sadism," she said finally. "So, essentially, you and your gang will be apprehending the people that we need you to, and bringing them to us to be dealt with?"

Greyback nodded in confirmation.

"And I am to be the one who tells you who is needed, and when they are needed by?"

Another silent nod. She could see that Greyback was absolutely disgusted at himself for having to come to her, and to have orders handed down from her.

"Lovely," she exclaimed after a long minute. Pushing herself up from the table, she walked over to the bottle of firewhiskey that must have been brought in during their conversation, turning a glass over on the table and filling it. She held the glass out to Greyback and waited for him to start drinking before speaking again.

"Will it just be your men," she continued, "or will there be others?"

"Others?"

"Yes, others. Non-werewolves? Wizards? Surely this is an effort to free up the time of the Death Eaters, so that they aren't spending the majority of their time kidnapping."

Greyback thought for a moment before speaking again. "Just us."

Bellatrix nodded, and then allowed herself to be lost in thought for a few minutes. Bellatrix knew Greyback—probably better than he realized. She knew that he thought she was a stupid child, and that the only reason he would offer himself to her in this way was because he would get something out of it. Still, the idea of being in command of a group of werewolves was exciting to her, and if, in fact, the Dark Lord had commanded it, she couldn't refuse.

"Alright," she replied after he'd finished his drink. "I'm in, but on one condition. I'm going to recruit a few more people for your team." She raised her hand to silence him before he had the chance to retort. "It's not that I don't think your pack can handle it. But there are certain times of month that we may need work done and, let's face it, you and your boys will be out of commission a few days a month."

Greyback sat back in his chair and curled his lip a bit, looking Bellatrix over and toying with the idea of killing her then and there. It had nothing to do with the full moon and the transformation of his men. She doubted whether they were capable of staying on task, whether they could be trusted. But what could he do? His pack was counting on him, and this was his only means of redeeming himself in the eyes of the Dark Lord. So he nodded stiffly, though every muscle fought against the action.

Bellatrix stood and smiled, handing him the nearly-full bottle of firewhiskey. "Fantastic. I'll begin interviewing within the week." She walked towards the door of the small room before looking back at him curiously, as if wondering why he'd not left yet.

"One last thing," Greyback said as he stood slowly. "The Dark Lord wanted me to tell you, 'three days.' No clue what he means by that, but that's 'is message, so, there. I delivered."

With a loud crack, Greyback was gone, and Bellatrix was once again alone in her large home.

Three days, she repeated to herself. It had already been nine. Uncertainty had been replaced by hope once again, and she looked forward to the time, three nights from now, when she could once again sleep soundly.