Bellatrix Lestrange looked at the plans on her desk, a feeling of accomplishment warming her body like a nice cup of cocoa. She was sure he'd like it - I mean, who wouldn't, after all she'd gone through to secure everything as he enjoyed it? She felt quite pleased with herself as she reached for another cookie. To hell with carbs today - after all, she was going on holiday with the man she loved.
"Bellatrix? Where in the name of Satan's left buttock have you brought me?" enquired an extremely disgruntled Voldemort, who was seated in a chair in an undisclosed location, a rather embarrassing straw hat hiding his lack of hair and his nose made even whiter than usual due to the presence of a generous lathering of sun lotion.
"Why, Barbados, my lord," replied a cheerful Bellatrix, who was sporting a matching straw hat, with a maniacal grin on her face.
Voldemort considered his next move carefully. He could torture her briefly for bringing him here, but it was a rather thoughtful gesture on her part. Plus, it hurt his seventh of a heart to see her hurt - she was so deliciously insane and evil.
Sighing, he stood up and brushed an imaginary speck of dust off his robes. "So, where is this... hotel spa you're taking me to?"
Hmm. This isn't so bad, he thought as he stretched. He was sitting on the terrace, drinking one of those delicious - what were they called again? Daiquiris? - and the ridiculous straw hat was beginning to grow on him. Yes, perhaps this mad scheme of Bellatrix had some merit after all he mused, taking another sip of his sugary drink. It was times like these when you could forget that you had an army of useless Death Eaters and a teenage pain in his backside. Oh well. It was July, and everyone thought he was still in dreary old England. Well let them panic, thinking he was out there somewhere, ready to strike at any moment, the imbeciles. He laughed at his brilliance, reclining--
"Sir?" a young terrified voice pierced his thoughts and in his annoyance he picked up his wand and yelled out "Avada Kedavra!"
"My Lord?" Bellatrix stepped out onto the terrace and carefully side-stepped the still body of the 20 something waiter. "Oh my Lord, that's the 5th employee today. They're going to start complaining." She scolded him mildly, gazing at him with starry eyes as unrequited love emanated from her very being. Voldemort ignored her - such inconsequential things should not bother him on holiday. Instead he reclined in his seat and called out "Make dinner reservations, will you."
"Bellatrix, when I said 'make dinner reservations', I didn't mean this," Voldemort's voice dripped with revulsion as he stared at the romantic table for two in front of him. He felt his temper rising, and looked around for someone to blame for this.
Bella snapped out of undressing him with her eyes, and replied hastily "But I thought this would create some ambience, for discussing Death Eater plans, my Lord." Voldemort harrumphed in a startling imitation of Vernon Dursley and sat down, eyeing the menu with distaste.
"Some wine, my Lord? To unwind of course," Bella offered as the waiter came over with a bottle of what he supposed to be some old vintage type that was to his liking. Definitely not spiked with love potion. Of course not.
"Never mind that. You said you wanted to discuss Death Eater business?"
"Oh, there's always time for that later, my Lord," Bellatrix replied smoothly, looking at him with what she imagined to be a sexy, smouldering look. "Would you like me to order some oysters?"
Voldemort stared at her. "Why the hell would I want oysters?"
"Oh no reason, my Lord. I just thought you might like to be a little adventurous, seeing as how it's summer, and we're on holiday and all."
"You mean I'm on holiday." He narrowed his eyes. What the hell had gotten into her lately?
"Of course, my Lord." Oh he looks so sexy, she thought, mentally drooling at the piece of uncovered arm muscle that was on display as he rolled up his sleeves in the evening heat.
I should probably get my followers checked up on, he thought as he looked at Bella with a look akin to alarm; they're all mental.
"My Lord, back so soon?" enquired a surprised Lucius Malfoy, hastily Vanishing the fluffy pink slippers with the bunny ears and his hair rollers as his extremely pasty master suddenly Apparated into the Death Eaters' headquarters, followed by Bellatrix tripping over their luggage, for she hadn't taken her eyes off of Voldemort the entire time.
"Meh. I didn't like the people there – too cheery," replied Voldemort as he sank into his favourite armchair and picked up Nagini, who had taken up residence there. "Who's a good snakey? Who's the most pwecious snakey in the whole wide world?"
"So you didn't like the trip, then?" Lucius sipped some hot cocoa, looking appropriately sympathetic.
"On the contrary," came the reply from He-Who-Loves-His-Snake-A-Little-Too-Much. "Bellatrix?"
"Body count; 25, 109," beamed the long-haired nutter, in a fashion akin to a mother whose child had eaten all his greens.
"Seems a little sub-par for you, my Lord," Lucius said with a wry smile.
"Well, there are only so many people in… St. James, was it? And once you kill one dread-locked git, you've killed them all, it seems," said Voldemort in between blowing raspberries on Nagini's scales.
"Ah," said Lucius knowingly. "So I take it you will be taking more holidays, my Lord?"
"My, what a splendid idea! Bellatrix, book another holiday immediately!"
The Dark Lord reclined in his char, snuggling with Nagini. Life was sweet.