Author's notes: All rights belong to the marvellous JK Rowling, Warner brothers and their respected affiliates. This story takes place just after the battle of the department of mysteries in book five. Please read and review!
The Dark Lord sat upon a grand throne-like chair at the top width of the long dining table that occupied the dining-turned-meeting room of Malfoy manor. The long table was finely crafted out of a deep charcoal toned wood, standing high and pristinely polished so that the reflections of all seated could be seen clearly. The room itself was darkly and expensively decorated, quite like every other room in the impressive manor. A large glass chandelier hung from the tall ceiling and glimmered slightly whenever hit by the moonlight which shone through the huge panelled window on the left hand side of the room. A large fireplace sat behind Lord Voldemort, it was carved out of marble with intricate swirling designs on either side, there was no fire lit but the half burnt wood logs showed that there had been one ablaze not so long ago. Above this was a pretentiously big mirror set in an extravagant frame, the mirror reflected a small glow of light which cast a shadow over the Dark Lord, partially obscuring his features and making him look even more imposing than usual.
Despite the concealing of the shadows the anger present on the dark wizard's face was painfully obvious making every deatheater in the room very uncomfortable. Each follower sat on a chair down the table's length with their head hung low. Most belonged to the inner circle, this was a gathering of the most elite deatheaters yet none currently lived up to the formidable reputation of the brutal warriors. Sat before their master were ten fearful, ashamed young children awaiting punishment. The recent mission in the department of mysteries had been a failure too embarrassing to speak of, the majority extant had been sent to Azkaban. Admittedly, they could be freed with little effort but the point was that they had gotten themselves arrested, giving the public a look at who bore the dark mark. With the exception of one each present participant knew their awaiting fate; Miles Contour and Salome Kin who were seated furthest from their leader would be executed as they were the only two not part of the inner circle therefore replaceable, the other seven males would be prey to several rounds of various torture curses from the Dark Lord and perhaps even their fellow deatheaters, the only verdict that remained uncertain was that of Bellatrix Lestrange.
The failure could well be placed on her head although she had killed Sirius Black, a death which would plague Harry Potter for perhaps the rest of his life, witnessing the murder of his only surviving family would be a fresh wound in the boy which could be used against him. A psychological weakness the Dark Lord could prod at and use to manipulate anger out of his young nemesis. This was a positive, it wasn't however good enough to overlook the many negatives caused by Bellatrix's recklessly impulsive actions. His most loyal and dangerous deatheater had ran aground, it was quite the conundrum. Torture wasn't enough; punishing the woman with her own skill wouldn't teach her a lesson, it would just show her what an amateur everyone else was with the cruciatus curse in comparison to her own talent for the unforgivable spell. Physical pain was something the dark witch was accustomed to. She would hurt but inevitably recover and forget; the Dark Lord wanted to scar her already damaged mind, leave her with a memory so excruciating it would haunt her until death. He wished to humiliate and break her, and then re-build her into a woman more heartless than the one stood before him now, a warrior even more perfect than what he already had, nothing was ever enough, everything could be improved. Just when perfection had been achieved the term changed in definition and more was required, Bellatrix was a prime example of this.
"Ten failures sit before me," The snake-like hiss of the Dark Lord's voice cut through the silence, "Each of you will be disciplined in the antagonising manner scum such as you deserve."
His red eyes scanned everyone in the room before settling on the two scared young men at the end of the dining table,
"Salome, Miles. How long have you both served under me?"
Each boy squirmed under their commander's gaze before answering in unison, "A, a year my lord." They even stuttered in sync.
The Dark Lord appeared to consider something before coming to a conclusion, "Not very long at all then, it seems a shame that our time together will be so short alas, Avada Kedavra!"
A jet of green light shot from the wand which Lord Voldemort had retrieved from his pocket in what seemed like an instant; the young soldiers barely had time to fear for their lives before they were snatched. Nobody at the table even flinched when the heads of both boys landed on the table with a thud, the corpses lay collapsed on the wooden surface almost as if they were sleeping, a look of content on their face as is they had accepted and welcomed their fate. It was this look would cause an onlooker to question whether the boys were better off (plus happier) dead. The Dark Lord lowered his wand and made a wave signal of some sort with his hand, as if on cue the large doors opposite him swung open and seven cloaked men dressed entirely in black entered led by an abnormally long snake. The reptile was several feet vertically and thickly built, plus dark of skin. It coiled itself around the table leg so to climb up before slithering towards Lord Voldemort, flicking its tail at every other seated deatheater. Nagini wrapped herself around her master, resting her head affectionately upon his shoulder. The hooded men who had entered behind the great snake each stood individually behind one seated (living) male deatheater. Once the movement of man and snake ceased silence fell upon the room, awaiting the command of the leader to be broken.
"Take them." There was no question in the Dark Lord's voice. Each cloaked figure retrieved their wand and forced it harshly into the crook of the man sat before him, keeping it held there as the seated stood and were lead from the room. Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange were briefly paused so they could gather the body of Salome and Miles respectively for disposal, neither looked back to look for any hint in regards to the fate of Bellatrix.
With Nagini still entwined around his body Lord Voldemort stood, turned, and gazed thoughtfully into the unlit fireplace. Bellatrix lifted her head to look upon her master, times like this infuriated her, they were alone, stood but metres apart and he doesn't even acknowledge her. Preferring the company of his own thoughts than her, there were times when she truly believed he showed more affection to inanimate objects that to his most faithful follower. She wondered whether he knew why she was so loyal, if he knew that when she said her heart belonged to him it wasn't a metaphor for servitude but a way of attempting to say that she was hopelessly in love with him. Many female followers had fallen for their dark leader during the first war and all had been ignored; only Bellatrix cared for him now. Truly cared, regardless of cause and following. He must know everyone did! None of them spoke of it to her face but she could hear their whispers; she had listened to the lower ranking soldiers telling fables about the illustrious affair of Bellatrix Lestrange and the Dark Lord, eavesdropped on middle rankers telling new recruits of their leader's raven haired sex slave, watched in amusement as blessed Draco asked his Father whether Auntie Bella gained favouritism from the Dark Lord with favours…
For a moment the Dark Lord contemplated simply handing the witch over to the rest of the inner circle and telling them to see to it that she was punished justly but, despite their loyalty he knew they were a close knit group founded on mutual respect for one and other. They would torture their fellow but only half heartily, if that considering the threatening glares they would un-doubtfully receive off Narcissa. He supposed if he couldn't think of something he could always ask particularly brutal followers for punishment suggestions. Nagini raised her head from its resting place on the shoulders of her master to whisper parsletounge in his ear,
"Use her mind as a weapon" The great snake whispered in her creature's language. Lord Voldemort pondered over this. It wasn't a bad idea, having a peek into her mind and seeing what would hurt her most would at least give him some inspiration. He patted Nagini in thanks before she unravelled herself from him to lie along the floor.
"Come forth Bellatrix." He never turned as he spoke to her, choosing to watch her through the overhead mirror as she walked with fear towards him before dropping to her knees and kissing his robes.
"Cease!" She stopped immediately, looking up tentatively at her master, "I wish to access your mind Bella." Her eyes became scared yet she nodded her approval regardless. He reached out his hand and cupped her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb but venturing into her mind too quickly to see his follower lean into the touch like a puppy. The witch's mind was nowhere near as chaotically dishevelled as he had anticipated, in fact, it was pristinely organized. He was stood in a classical looking library with dark wooden shelves flooring and furniture, there were seemingly hundreds of thickly bound books though being an experienced legilimens Lord Voldemort knew they were not what they seemed. Inside each book was; a memory, dream, hope, secret, thought and fear. He just needed to find something of value.
The first row to catch his eye was the one directly to his left; each book was shaking furiously and the entire corridor seemed to echo a familiar cackle, he instantly realised that this must be home to Bellatrix's sadistic battle personality. The next row of interest was two to his right; the corridor had a freezing temperature all of its own, ghostly rats seemed to jump from the books and scuttle in the shelf corners, the books on the end shelf looked like they were shivering, the sound of rattling chains emitting as they did so. Azkaban, her worst fear and memory.
Just as he started to move his attention was demanded elsewhere, he could faintly hear a something very distinctive, his own voice.
"Bella, Bella, Bella." The voice was obviously his own but it certainly wasn't coming from him. In the corner of her mind's library was a dark corridor filled with whispers. Intrigued he changed course. There was a husky smell that struck a sense of déjà vu within the Dark Lord but from he could not place. The books were alive with heavy breaths and soft words from his own tongue. As he entered a book shot from the middle shelve, opening itself while afloat in the air. The pages presented a recent looking memory in front of Lord Voldemort; Bellatrix lay atop the covers on a four poster bed sound asleep, dressed in a thin silk black night dress her thick hair framed her face, she tossing fluently in her dreams and the Dark Lord edged closer to the memory so to hear the words escaping her lips.
"My Lord, Ohh master. Yes…" If the words and tone weren't hinting enough at her thoughts her hand had come to stroke her breast as the blissful murmurs continued. Shocked, he snapped the book shut and pulled himself from his most loyal's mind.
Bellatrix winced as the Dark Lord yanked his hand from her face. His sharp talon-like nails cutting her porcelain skin, she glanced up to her master to see him pacing the room, his usually expressionless face filled with shock. She bowed her head in shame, how disgusted he would be. To know how pathetically in love she was, how she deluded herself with fantasies that she was worthy of him. A disgrace.
Lord Voldemort stopped his pacing, he had figured out exactly how to use this discovery to his advantage.
"Bella," The Dark Lord retreated to standing above her as he spoke, "I have a request for you." He tenderly reached out and cupped her face again, gently pulling her to stand and tilting her head up to face him.
"Y, yes my Lord." Her voice shook under the tension of the situation. Before she could react her master had pulled her to him in a smouldering kiss. His arms wrapped around her petite frame, his hands entangling themselves in her unruly curls. Her mind went into immediate shock but her body reacted in an instant, stretching itself on her tiptoes to better reach her Lord's lips. Her arms hesitantly wrapped around his neck as the she began to respond to the now more passionate kiss, his tongue quietly asked for entrance permission. Her mouth opened when asked and their tongues quickly wrapped around each other, not battling for dominance but caressing the other.
Breathless they pulled apart from one and other, Bellatrix opened her mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by her master.
"Strip." His voice wasn't harsh yet there was certainly no question in it either. Not wanting to ruin an opportunity so splendid it could possibly be a dream the witch did exactly what she was told. With a quick spell Bella stood in front of her Lord completely naked, (begrudgingly) the Dark Lord admitted she was quite a sight to behold; slimly built with generous curves her body showed no signs of aging, her alabaster skin had a flawless translucent quality that seemed to make her glow, shapely legs held up her subtly toned upper half, which bore only few scars from the female warrior's many battles and punishments. As he gave his soon-to-be lover a slow one over Lord Voldemort realised an erection stimulating spell wouldn't be necessary. He reluctantly admitted to himself that casting her aside for lack of appeal and uselessness half way through was going to be a hard task, especially considering that right now he genuinely wanted to satisfy her, and himself obviously. Alas, it has to be done. Perhaps, if she should regain his favour after her punishment he could, how do the youth phrase it? Pick up where he left off.
Bellatrix's anxiety had grown to a level so strong she had become incapable of taking a breath, stood nude before her Lord she felt completely and utterly exposed. It had been but two seconds since she had vanished her clothes yet to her it seemed like several long excruciating minutes. Her eyes fell upon her master's defiant erection and the trapped breath fell further down her throat. He was attracted to her, the greatest wizard known to this time desired her!
She would surely have fallen down with shock had the Dark Lord not embraced her and resumed his earlier ministrations. Hands explored her body while his tongue licked the small trail of blood seeping from her cut. He trailed open mouthed kisses down her neck, sucking lightly on her pulse point earning him a deep moan. Bella reattached her arms around the Dark Lord's neck, all caution lost as he began to massage her bare breasts. His fore-fingers and thumbs kneaded at her nipples until the dark pink nubs were erect, allowing his hands to roam the rest of her figure while his mouth continued its assault of her upper body. Bellatrix moaned lightly as the Dark Lord cupped her arse and lifted her up, brushing his cock against her thigh as he slid her onto the table edge, his mouth continuing to nip and suck at her collarbone. She leaned to her right, letting her hair fall to the side and baring her neck for him whilst desperate hands attempted to free her love from his cloak. However as her fiddling fingers finally found the cloaks clasp the Dark Lord snatched them away, Bellatrix froze. She had displeased him and now he would truly punish, her dreams had been granted and she had ruined them for herself. Self-loathing to the point of suicide she dejectedly glanced up at her master. Crushed eyes met lust filled ones and Bella let out a relief sigh so deep it became a moan. Without so much as another thought their bodies were entwined once more; hands roaming, teeth nip, mouths tasting, desperate pleas incoherently echoing one another. Once Bella had become again entranced with pleasure the Dark Lord smirked against her skin. That had been a test and she had passed; now he was certain he could break her. Bella whispered encouragements as The Dark Lord pinned her hands above her head proceeding to lower her until she lay flat on the table then continuing to ravish her body. Bella looked up to see that her Lord had undone the lower half of his cloak freeing his manhood; she licked her lips in anticipation, her legs opening wide enough for him to see the pink folds of her most private area.
Her body arched of the table as he began lick and suck on her most sensitive spot, head thrown back in pleasure she raised her hips towards him galvanising him to continue his assault. He used his fingers to pry open her folds, careful not to scratch her with his talon-like nails. He licked up her centre and blew onto her pearl, teasingly dipping the tip of his tongue into her dripping entrance. Her arousal was bittersweet with an aftertaste that hung in his mouth, her flavour was practically addictive. As her Lord continued to tantalise her Bella's breathing became erratic and deep and the Dark Lord memorised each sound, treasuring the soothing quality her pleasured tone possessed. His tongue began to make its way back up to her clit but was interrupted by Bella pulling her Lord down to her, enveloping his mouth with her. Attempting to discover every secret his mouth held and memorise every surface. She forced her tongue past his lips so to burn his flavour onto her taste buds. He taste like he smelt, alluringly delicious.
As their inflamed kiss continued Lord Voldemort braced himself on his knees, leaning over his lover, his erection stroking her porcelain thigh. He felt her body tense as his cock accidently caressed her skin, noticing her reaction he began to sway forwards and backwards over her, thrusting his cock up and down her thigh but never getting to where she needed him most. She groaned as he pulled away from her sex, craving to be fulfilled. A hand on each cheek she stopped his movements and begged him with her eyes. Lord Voldemort steered himself closer to her, his dick brushing against her soaking entrance. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his body to brace herself. Secure in their position the Dark Lord eased himself inside her, filling her tight sex to the limit and dragging his throbbing penis out. Hips rose to meet his continuing slow thrusts into her sex. After pulling out at a tantalising pace for the fifth time the wizard pounded into her without warning. She arched until her firm breasts were in his face as the now speeding intrusion, gasping with push. Wiggling her arse so that her hips could move in time with his new pace. His mouth latched onto one of her nipples, biting it then soothing his tongue over the bite mark. His hands forcing into the table, balancing both their weights. As she became louder her walls started to clench around him cock, she was so close, his thrusts quickened, his balls bouncing against her nerve bundle and…
He stopped. Within an instant the Dark Lord was on his feet refastening his garments and casting a quick spell to rid him of his raging erection and flushed expression. He turned back to Bellatrix. The witch was lying on the table, seemingly froze as she gathered her breath.
Neither of them had come, why had he stopped? She couldn't make heads or tails of it. Gathering her wits she looked up at her lover. He had dressed himself and was staring at her with an unreadable expression. Why was he just stood there? They'd been fucking like animals in heat a moment ago and now he was staring at her like nothing had happened. Was he a virgin? Did he not understand how this worked? She was so confused she wasn't even scared of her Lord at the moment, frankly she was wondering why he was acting like such a muggle.
The Dark Lord continued to stare down at his follower. Bellatrix lay on the table with her knees up and her legs open, arousal dripping for all to see. Her breasts moved rhythmically with her gradually slowing breathing, god she looked fuckable. Regardless of the situation Lord Voldemort's expression remained one of nonchalance, this needed to be done. For her part Bellatrix looked incredibly confused and was staring at her Lord as if he was the dumbest man she had ever laid eyes upon. It seemed the depriving of her pleasure had caused her to forget her respect and manners; nonetheless he was going to put her back in place.
"M, my Lord? I…"
"Silence Bellatrix!" The Dark Lord's voice was steel and cut through his follower-turned-lover like a sword. Bella quickly closed her legs, sat up, and tried to cover herself as the seriousness of the situation struck her. Lord Voldemort's face was filled with anger and distain. Had she displeased him?
"You have displeased me." Shit. "In the most intimate sense." Oh lord, oh lord, oh lord. What had she done? She had disappointed her Lord in the most humiliating way, she had been chosen out of all the others and she had let both of them down. Why had she been so stupid as to ignore the honour it was to please her leader in such a manner? She had been blinded by her own passion. It was all her fault. It was all her fault.
"I, I am so sorry my Lord. Please, please forgive me. I will make it up to you, I swear. I'll try again. I'll be better. Please my Lord." Sobs wrenched her voice, and tears fell down her face.
"No Bellatrix! Your wretched body is useless!" As each word hit her, her sobs became louder plus more hysterical. "You disgust me! And to think, I assumed you could pleasure me! You, ha! I don't know what possessed me to be so stupid! Your miserable failure has only made me disappointed in myself, when it's your entire fault! How a woman can be so pathetic in this department is beyond me!" Bellatrix rocked back and forth in the foetal position as her Lord and love tore her down. "Your body is aged and ugly" Your sex wide like the whore that you are! Perhaps I merely used you too late, is that it? All the deatheaters already given you a nice pounding? Used you all up?"
"No, no my Lord. No, no, no."
"Shut up! Get your clothes on and get out of my sight! You disgust me!" He screamed at her.
Bellatrix weakly lowered herself off the table, her body shaking as she sobbed aloud. Her walk was slow and her legs looked like they were struggling to carry her upper half. When she came within an arms distance the Dark Lord shoved her onto the floor next to her clothes. If possible she cried louder as her face impacted with the hard wood. Blood pouring from her nose and mixing with her tears. Ignoring her other garments she draped her black dress over her head, not bothering even to fasten it. Picking up her wand and holding it loosely in her hand as if it were some useless household object that meant nothing to her. Latching her arms round her front she covered her body and cried heavily whilst slowly exiting. He hated her, she disgusted him, and she hated herself.
As soon as the door swung shut the Dark Lord breathed a sigh of relief, falling back onto his discarded chair. She was broken and he was unsatisfied, it seemed this was a punishment for both of them.