August 1978
Outside Aberdeen, Scotland
"Stupefy!"
"I don't think so!" Rodolphus Lestrange blocked the Stunning Spell hurled at him by Fabian Prewett. He whipped back a Killing Curse, but Prewett rolled out of the way, and Rodolphus growled beside Voldemort.
"Lestrange, go up that hill and find out how the Malfoys are doing against Potter and the Longbottoms," snarled Voldemort. He aimed his wand at Fabian Prewett and quickly incanted a Killing Curse, but the boy Disapparated just in time. Voldemort frowned. "Coward."
Voldemort spent the next two minutes killing a few members of the Order of the Phoenix, maiming a few others, and watching as they Disapparated one by one. Finally he heard Rodolphus Lestrange scream,
"Master! My Lord!"
Voldemort's head snapped to the side, and he began to trot toward the sound of Rodolphus' voice. His boots pattered on the grass, and he shot one Killing Curse at a stray Order witch as he ran. He finally reached Rodolphus, who was cradling his wife, Bellatrix, on the ground. Bellatrix was still, unmoving, white-faced and pale-lipped, and suddenly Voldemort froze.
"Who killed her?" he asked, his heart thudding. Rodolphus shook his head, his eyes watering.
"N-No, My Lord. It was… I went to check on the Malfoys. They were doing fine. I came back to fight. I heard her screaming over here. I found Alastor Moody casting the Cruciatus Curse on her. I've no idea how long he'd been casting it. She stopped screaming. I tried to kill him, but he Disapparated. Her wand was on the ground near where he'd been standing."
"He'd Disarmed her," Voldemort nodded. He rushed to Rodolphus and turned his head, yelling, "Abraxas, clean up the mess and finish this! I'll meet you at Headquarters!"
He took Bellatrix from Rodolphus' hands and whispered,
"I'm taking her to Malfoy Manor."
"Please, Master; shouldn't I take her home to Castle Lestrange?" Rodolphus asked, but Voldemort snapped his eyes up and snarled at Rodolphus,
"Get out of the way, Rodolphus. She is your wife in name only and you know it. Give her to me."
"Yes, Master." Rodolphus carefully passed Bellatrix's tiny body over to Voldemort. He rose, cradling her carefully, and he bent down to hear whether she was breathing. She was, though her breath was slow and rickety.
"Come now, Bella," Voldemort murmured. He Disapparated at once, coming to outside Malfoy Manor. He walked up to the house, and the doors opened for him with wandless magic. Dobby the House-Elf scurried up to him and worried,
"Is she d-d-dead, sir?"
"No. Bring tea to my suite," Voldemort insisted, and Dobby snapped his fingers and disappeared. Voldemort walked down the corridor, Bellatrix weighing hardly anything in his arms, and then he walked up a flight of winding stairs. He reached his suite of rooms and opened it wandlessly, walking inside and kicking the door shut.
Bellatrix had been in here before, on a few drunken nights. The two of them had seen one another naked before. She was madly in love with him, he knew, and a few times, he'd appeased that love. He'd given her the chance to show him that she was worthy of his physical attentions. He'd played with her body, and he'd liked it. She'd been delicious, those few times he'd had her. And Voldemort knew she'd enjoyed herself. He'd been in her mind during her orgasms, enjoying the explosive pleasure she'd felt. And he knew that her marriage to Rodolphus Lestrange had been an arrangement when they'd been eighteen, that the two of them led entirely separate lives.
But right now, all Voldemort cared about was how damaged Bellatrix had been by the Cruciatus Curse she'd suffered. Moody had done it for revenge, he knew. Bellatrix had tortured Moody two months earlier at a battle. Now the Ministry had given Aurors permission to use Unforgivables against Death Eaters, and Moody had taken advantage. He'd probably lost his temper, taken his revenge, and then realised just how good it could feel to torture an enemy. Perhaps he'd even lost track of time. But in order to get Bellatrix to this state, he'd have needed to hold the Curse for a solid five minutes or more.
"Bellatrix." Voldemort lay her on his bed and began pulling off her boots. "Bella."
She didn't answer. She lay limply on the bed, white as the sheets and duvet upon which she'd been laid. A tea cart dissolved into existence beside Voldemort, a service for two, and he pinched his lips. How did the damned House-Elf expect Bellatrix to drink tea right now? Still, if he had only included tea for one, he might have been beaten. Clever little creature.
"Bella," Voldemort said loudly, "We won the battle. No real casualties I could see on our side. Apart from you. But we killed at least four or five of theirs."
Still no answer. No reply at all. Bellatrix breathed slowly but lay as though dead, her wild curls billowing around her head. Voldemort sighed and brought a chair from the edge of the room up to the side of the bed. He sat and whispered,
"Legilimens."
Her mind was a swirl of chaos. Voldemort could see Moody, crazed, casting the Cruciatus Curse. He could hear Bellatrix screaming in pain. He could feel her love for Voldemort. He could tell that she'd had poached egg on toast for breakfast this morning.
Voldemort pulled out of her mind and folded his hands in his lap. He pursed his lips and began to pet her hair a little bit. He felt the softness of her curls as he informed her,
"I think I got one of the McKinnons. As I was running toward you, I threw a Killing Curse out. I think it was a McKinnon."
She didn't answer. Voldemort licked his lip and whispered,
"Please wake up."
He could give her Invigoration Draught, he thought, but it would be temporary. Still, it was better than nothing. He Summoned some from his Potions Stores and opened her lips, pouring some of the Draught over her tongue. But she had to swallow it, so Voldemort massaged her neck until he felt her gulp.
"Good girl," he murmured. Finally Bellatrix blinked her eyes open slowly and asked in a voice hoarse from screaming,
"Where is my wand?"
"I have it," Voldemort assured her, and he touched at the pocket in his robe where he'd tucked it away. Bellatrix stared right at him and shook her head a little.
"Moody," she whispered. "Moody did this… to me…"
"I know," Voldemort nodded. "But you're my very greatest soldier, so we'll get you back in fighting order tout de suite, hmm?"
"I failed you," she huffed, shutting her eyes again, but Voldemort snapped,
"You did no such thing. Open your eyes."
Bellatrix did, blinking slowly and finally staring again at him. Voldemort scowled at her and said again,
"You are my best soldier. We'll have you fighting again before you know it."
"Are you angry, Master?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort tipped his head.
"With Moody, yes. Of course I am. With you? It takes a lot for you to make me angry, Bella. This isn't enough."
"No?" She reached for his hand, seemingly on instinct, and for some reason he let her take it. He let her slide her fingers against his palm, and then she leaned against the pillow and fell asleep again. Her hand went limp in his, and Voldemort knew that the Invigoration Draught had worn off.
Voldemort, for some reason, did not take Bellatrix's hand from his. He just sat there holding onto her fingers. The tea went cold on the cart. Voldemort studied Bellatrix's oval fingernails, her knuckles worn by extensive wand work in brutal conditions. Voldemort finally brought Bellatrix's knuckles to his lips and kissed them, and he stood slowly.
He walked into his sitting-room and stood against his writing desk, pulling out a parchment and a quill. He scribbled onto the parchment,
Lestrange,
I will keep Bellatrix here until she's healed up. You and Abraxas will notify the others - we meet tomorrow night at nine, here at the Manor.
L.V.
"Dobby!" Voldemort barked, and the House-Elf quickly appeared in his rooms. Voldemort thrust the letter at the House-Elf and commanded,
"Send this to Castle Lestrange. Is Master Abraxas back yet?"
"He is, yes, sir," said Dobby.
"Tell him to inform the others that we meet here tomorrow at nine. I've got work to do," Voldemort said. Dobby nodded and quickly Disapparated with a crack. Voldemort walked back into his bedroom, back to where Bellatrix was lying on his bed in peaceful silence, and he murmured to her,
"Wake up, creature… you're my very best soldier, hmm?"
He bent and kissed her forehead, and she squirmed and whined a little. But then she seemed to fall as deeply asleep as ever, and Voldemort decided that a shower was very much in order.
Author's Note: I'm baaaaack. I'm really looking forward to writing this dynamic that's kind of mid-war with them already having an established physical presence with one another. Also, who doesn't love a good hurt/comfort fic where the comforter is a murderous sociopath? Thanks for reading; please do review if you get a moment. :)