"THIRD MUGGLE FAMILY IN A MONTH DECLARED MISSING," Voldemort read, "And just before Christmas, too. What a shame."
He smirked, and the table full of Death Eaters erupted into a low rumble of laughter. Voldemort tipped his head and then bowed it, and he said gratefully,
"I am pleased with you, Crabbe. Goyle. This campaign of yours is going swimmingly."
"All we're doing is picking 'em off," Crabbe said to the others, as though their work was nothing. "We like to go to ickle cottages in the countryside. No neighbours. Scares 'em even more. They think they're on guard; they've got dogs. Shotguns tipped against the doorways. But we've got somethin' better, 'aven't we? We've got magic!"
The others laughed again, and Voldemort smiled.
"Yes. We've got magic," he agreed. "And you and Goyle just go into their little cottages and make them… disappear. Vanish."
"Quite lit'rally, Master," said Goyle. "Kill 'em and Vanish 'em, quick as you please. Then we leave. We only leave the Mark some of the time, so the Ministry stays on guard. But they know it's us, don't they?"
"They do," Rookwood affirmed, and Yaxley said,
"The Ministry's running scared. The Wizengamot is holding a special gathering just after Christmas to discuss the perceived threat. There's talk of ousting Eugenia Jenkins. She handled the Squib Riots last year well, according to her allies, but things are getting, quote, 'out of her control.'"
"I want you in her place," Voldemort hissed at Yaxley, and Yaxley's face went pale as he stammered,
"I'm not… I'm not sure how to make that happen, Master."
"I am." Voldemort glanced over to Rookwood and shrugged.
"You've got your squad Imperiused in the Department of Mysteries, have you? I want votes. If the Wizengamot ousts Jenkins, I want hands raised to put Corban Yaxley in as Minister. And then you serve me, Yaxley. Everyone understand what's going on here?"
Bellatrix was breathless where she sat. She understood very well what was going on. She gripped the edge of the table as Voldemort stood slowly and said,
"The Ministry of Magic is about to slip like sand through the fingers of our enemies. I mean to catch it when it does. It will all be ours… but only if you play your parts. It is almost Christmastime. Our children will steam home on the Hogwarts Express. We will gather at Malfoy Manor for a grand party. On New Year's Eve, we will drink to excess to celebrate. And what does all of this mean?"
"Vulnerability, My Lord," said Bellatrix firmly, and Voldemort gave a large, slow nod.
"Yes, my beautiful lady," he said quietly. He raised his face to his Death Eaters. "Vulnerability. At the time when we most need to be at attention, they will try to catch us sleeping. Let no mind sleep. Let no wand rest too heavily in a holster. Let no one become too intoxicated, too merry. This is war. You are soldiers. We fight even in the quietest nighttime. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Master," murmured a few of the Death Eaters, and Voldemort nodded.
"Crabbe and Goyle. A thousand Galleons to each of you for your excellent work. Rookwood, set about getting minds shifted against Jenkins and toward the idea of a Minister Yaxley. And Yaxley… you do your own campaigning. Oh, and one last order of business before we break for the holiday."
He cleared his throat where he stood then, and he turned his face toward Bellatrix. She gave him a reassuring nod, for they'd discussed the idea that this topic would be publicly brought up. He gulped visibly beneath his elaborate black brocade robes, and he said to the group,
"You all know that The Lady Bellatrix and I have… well, we shall be renewing our marriage vows. There is no more to be said on that matter. No gifts will be accepted. Any questions? No? Good. Happy Christmas. Dismissed."
He seemed to be shaking a little as everyone rose and left, and Bellatrix rather wished he'd opened the meeting with that news instead of closing with it. He'd seemed so powerful, so commanding, right up until he'd mentioned marrying her. Then he'd seemed unsure of himself. She sighed as the room cleared out, and she kept her distance from him until Abraxas Malfoy shut the door behind him and left them alone.
"I sounded like a blubbering idiot," Voldemort said angrily, but Bellatrix shrugged.
"It's personal business. I'm not sure how you're meant to announce it in any sort of intimidating way. It's done now."
He reached for her hand and pulled her close, and his eyes looked hungry. Bellatrix frowned; he'd dosed himself with Impotens Potion before they'd left the house. Was it wearing off?
"How are you feeling?" she asked, and he let out a rickety breath and licked his lip.
"Like I should bend you over this table and fuck you into -"
"Master." Bellatrix gave him a warning look and shook her head. His lust had been so insatiable over the last few weeks that they'd finally decided to drug him into a state of limp disinterest. But it didn't appear to be working. Bellatrix had insisted on taking a Sterilisation Draught, which was permanent unless she took the antidote, because she was so afraid he'd accidentally forget a Contraceptive Spell one time. Still, it had been too much. Three times a day had left her raw and, frankly, a little bored. Now she was bleeding, so it wasn't as though she were in the mood or physical state to take him, anyway.
"I think we ought to see someone about this," she said, and Voldemort scowled deeply at her and pulled his hands away.
"Yes. Please. Let me march into St Mungo's for this. Hullo, Healer So-and-So. Can you please help me? You see, I'm a forty-two-year-old man with a seventeen-year-old wife, and - oh, yes, terribly beautiful - and I just want her all the time. So, can you kindly help me with this severe medical issue?"
"This isn't a joke," Bellatrix hissed. "And I'm not your wife. Not yet."
"I know." Voldemort sank his teeth into his lip and leaned back against the meeting table. "I know you're not my wife yet. I know it's an actual problem. I know it's indicative that the Vow of Loyalty may have hidden side effects that aren't realised. I know. I am not an idiot. But… I have much more concerning matters at hand, if you aren't aware?"
He gestured rather grandly to the table, and Bellatrix shut her eyes and stamped her foot in frustration. Finally she said what she'd been wanting to say to him for weeks.
"What good will all of this politicking do you if you wind up so lusty that you go fuck some whore and get yourself killed because of the vow you took?"
She opened her eyes, and his face was twisted strangely. He scoffed, shaking his head, and he almost looked amused.
"Sorry; is it funny?" Bellatrix asked breathlessly, and Voldemort whispered,
"Is that what you're worried about? That I'll run off on you and die because of the promise I made?"
"Well…" Bellatrix's eyes welled. "There have been times, My Lord, when it has felt like… as if… if you didn't get satisfaction, that you…"
"You don't understand." Voldemort crossed his arms over his chest. "My cravings, my longing, my lust is all directed toward you and you alone. I am not walking the streets gaining erections at the sight of every pretty young witch who passes by. What is happening is that I'll be sitting in my office, writing a letter, and some fleeting thought of you turns into an all-consuming need. It's you, Bellatrix. You."
"Oh." Bellatrix embraced herself and took a few steps away from him. "Then… perhaps I ought to go away for a while. Perhaps I shouldn't sit in on meetings and distract you. I could go on holiday on my own, just to give you some space?"
"What?" Voldemort looked at her like she was mad. "How would that help? That would make it worse? Ten times worse."
"I don't know! I don't know how to help you!" Bellatrix exclaimed, and Voldemort pinched his lips.
"Look. I didn't want to suggest this, but… you could always take the same vow. At least then it would be mutual instead of me being like some sort of beast attacking you."
"But then we'd just spend all of our time in bed instead of getting anything done!" Bellatrix said shrilly, and Voldemort seemed like he couldn't help but laugh a little as he admitted,
"No, you're probably right. In any case, I trust you."
That felt like a cold spike going through Bellatrix's stomach, and she whispered,
"Well, I trust you. It's not… not that I don't…"
"You don't trust me, and I don't blame you," Voldemort said lightly, "but I would never require you to take a Vow of Loyalty. I know full well where your loyalty lies."
He reached for her left arm and pulled back her sleeve, and then he brought her forearm to his lips and kissed at her Dark Mark. She hissed a little in pain at the burn, and suddenly she couldn't keep herself from declaring,
"I'm going to do it."
"Do what?" He pulled her sleeve down and seemed oddly calm.
She whipped out her wand and murmured, "I'm going to do it because I love you. Because I'm your servant. And because I'm going to be your wife again."
"Bella, what are you doing?" Voldemort asked, but before he could stop her, Bellatrix touched the tip of her wand to her chest and incanted,
"Lord Voldemort. To you I make this Vow of Loyalty. Let my heart be yours and yours alone now and forevermore. Let my mind be yours and yours alone now and forevermore. Let my body be yours and yours alone now and forevermore. And should I violate this most sacred vow, let my body turn to dust and my soul turn to ash. I am yours, Lord Voldemort. I am yours. This I vow."
There was a golden flush of pleasant heat around her heart that spread out through her veins, and when Bellatrix raised her eyes to Voldemort, he looked shocked and mildly horrified. He shook his head and muttered quietly,
"Poor child. What have you done?"
Author's Note: Woo Hoo! The Storm Series is back! I hope you'll join me on the ride for Part II. PLEASE do review as you're reading; feedback is treasured like gold. :)