Bellatrix loved the rain. This adoration was based off of only one experience, really: two weeks ago, on the outskirts of London, after completing a fairly challenging task for the Dark Lord. The couple congratulated each other on a job well done in the alleyway behind a small, cozy-looking Muggle inn, in the pouring rain. Then they went inside—soaking wet, satisfied, and exuberant—and killed the few staff members and the half-dozen guests. It had been uniquely romantic; rarely were they given these opportunities to be together in such a way, outside of home. It had been a tender evening.
Now, the rain came down just as hard.
They sat in Rodolphus' study: Bellatrix, atop the desk at which he was finalizing the details of a new, extremely profitable (and highly secretive) black-market trade. She wore a long, thin black dress; it was a tad too large, and delicately fell off her skinny shoulders. She made no effort to adjust it.
"Rodolphus, darling," Bella drawled, her long, sharp fingernails running through his hair. "It's raining, darling."
"So?"
She tugged at a short lock of hair, meaning to hurt him. "Stop working. Enjoy the weather with me."
Rodolphus shoved her hand away and tightly grabbed her wrist—maybe there would be a bruise (he did have such strong hands)—so that she could not attack. Bella whimpered and pouted, and he kissed her taught palm gently. He did not loosen his grip.
"All of this work, ma chatonne, I do for you." He smiled, suddenly affectionate, and slowly kissed each of her fingers, dragging his lips along her flesh, instead of lifting his head each time. Bellatrix let her hand relax.
His mouth lingered on her thumb. "My beautiful Bella," he said, his voice muffled as he bit down on her pale skin. "My love, don't you want me to give you everything? Don't you deserve it?"
She breathed out, "Naturally," and licked her lips.
With a smirk, he released her wrist and took her hand. He massaged it, rough fingers rubbing in circles. "Then you'll get it, my sweet Bellatrix."
Bella leaned in closer, smiling peacefully. "Even the rain?" she asked, sighing hotly. Her free hand absentmindedly stroked her thigh through the light fabric of her dress.
"I'll give you the lightning and thunder, ma chatonne."