A Request
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
A/N: This is for RosalieLestrange, who requested a Bellamort fanfiction (and I am still open to fic requests). Please Enjoy!
She was nervous, however, that didn't mean anything since she was always anxious and practically hysterical around him. She couldn't help it. It was something that just always happened in his presence. Or whenever she was thinking about him. Which seemed to happen quite frequently. Bellatrix was known to everyone who even glanced her way as the woman with ice in her heart and a fiery, explosive temper that could destroy everything in its path. Yet, even thinking about him, she crumbled and was reduced to millions of pieces that groveled themselves over her Lord. The Dark Lord was powerful and great and ethereal, but more than that he was her everything.
When things shattered in her family following Andromeda's atrocious decision, he was the only stable thing in her life and since then he was her stronghold. He was safety, pain, cruelty, love, and life. Bellatrix loved him so much, and gave him everything and so much more to him.
Bellatrix never once denied her loyalty and absolute devotion to the Dark Lord. Never. To do that would be the equivalent of denying her entire existence – to deny the one man that kept her afloat in her sea of troubles, and it was blasphemy. And she was never one for blasphemy. That was Andromeda.
Bellatrix carefully took each individual step – sixty-three to be exact – and reached her Lord's chambers. She had been summoned earlier for a mission and now that she completed that, she had to notify him and hopefully he would fulfill her request. She never had requested anything from him (except everything) and she hoped he would give her this honor (even though he never gave her anything).
Her knuckles rhythmically tapped on the door like her heartbeat – swift and startlingly fast – and would have continued if she didn't force them to stop. Bellatrix didn't want to anger him.
The door opened – just enough to let her in – and she could hear the crackling fireplace and the sound of scales brushing up against the polished wooden floor. There was an armchair in front of the fireplace and Nagini slithered up the armchair and in her spot on one of the arms. Bellatrix was jealous of that snake at times – she was closer to her master than Bellatrix could ever be.
"Bellatrix, are you really jealous of a snake? A noble Black is envious of a serpent?" She blushed and pondered for a moment how he knew this, before the tidal waves of shame blocked out her wonder. Maybe she was pathetic, but he was an exquisite man. He could reduce anyone to rubble.
"F-forgive me my Lord. I didn't think I said that aloud." She wasted not a moment to pardon herself. She was impudent. She couldn't be jealous – she was his, but that didn't make her Lord hers (no matter how much she wanted him to be).
"You didn't, but your thoughts are an open book to me. You can hide nothing." He stood and faced her, the shadows on his angular and ivory face danced – as if they couldn't believe they had the fortune to be on his face. Bellatrix stared into her Lord's obsidian and luminous eyes and she blushed before looking down. Yes, those shadows were very lucky.
"I would never hide anything from you." She couldn't. That was treason, though sometimes she wished she could hide the desire for him that made her heart melt and her breathing rapid and shallow. She felt a hurricane build inside of her around him. He was her mentor and salvation after all.
"It would be foolish to even try." He walked around his armchair to the back of it, stopping right in front of her and she almost moaned in sheer anticipation. Would tonight be a night of wonder and pleasure? Had she done something so good so that she would be rewarded with not just her request, but with sexual satisfaction (to spend a few hours in her Lord's arms)?
"Yes, my Lord, it would." Her words came out in a breathless whisper, and she knew it was wrong (to show such weakness in her breathing), but she was hopeless in stopping it.
"Then explain why you are here." He didn't come closer, he simply stood in front of her – teasing her – and she turned her attention to what she came for. If he hadn't touched her by now, it wasn't going to happen.
"I am here to tell you I completed your mission." Bellatrix wanted to make her request, but she was also very nervous. What she wanted was so important to her; she didn't want to make it at a wrong time.
"But that is not all, is it?" Yet, Bellatrix was indeed an open book, and he knew she wanted more.
"No, my Lord." She admitted.
"I knew it was not. Tell me." His velvet voice took on a stern tone and Bellatrix looked down to the ground.
"I was wondering if you know of the whispers people say - what they call me. 'Bellatrix Lestrange: The Dark Lord's Most Faithful.'" Bellatrix looked back up and watched his face for his reaction – though most of the time it was a waste, she could never tell what his true emotions were. Her Lord's internal feelings were guarded and tucked away immaculately.
"I do. What is so important about it? Are you ashamed or doubt yourself?" The Dark Lord raised his eyebrow and watched with a smirk on his face as panic dashed across her face (though Bellatrix didn't notice).
"No, no, no! I'm most certainly not ashamed." She pleaded with her Lord. A stinging pain had attacked her chest and constricted her throat – almost as if Nagini was wrapped around her neck. Bellatrix never wanted her Lord to feel as if she was ashamed of him.
"Then you doubt your capabilities?"
"No, I was wondering if my Lord would be willing to do one thing for me – though you have done everything for me and you are under no obligations to do anything for me, especially since you have done so much. I was wondering if – hoping that - you would give me the title of your most faithful." Bellatrix stood there – her hands clasped in front of her – and lowered her gaze to the ground. The silence was deafening and she rued the fact that she had requested this favor from him. Bellatrix was sure he would just laugh and deem her eternally unworthy of that gracious, and most honorable title. As she became flooded with anxiety, she didn't notice his proximity getting closer until his hand lifted her chin up to meet his eyes.
The Dark Lord was less than a foot away from her and Bellatrix didn't know anything in that moment. His closeness washed all thoughts away from her mind and she stood before him bewildered.
"Do you want it? Crave it?" He leaned closer – his breath tickling her ear – and her blush spread through out her face.
"Yes," Bellatrix moaned and he smirked before drawing back and sitting on the armchair that he turned around to face her at some point (he was an expert at nonverbal magic after all).
"Then go and work for it." He stated simply and emotionlessly. "You are dismissed." The finality in the words left no room for discussion or even her presence and with that she left the room – never realizing his manipulating game the one where he always struck her down, and she constantly tried to give her Lord the moon (the game she would never win).