She sat in the dining room hall, holding tightly onto the arms of her chair, her chest heaving. She waited. The dim lights that illumed the manor house flickered as she drummed her fingers, impatiently. Where was he? Had he changed his mind about meeting with her?

She waited a few minutes longer, before standing up to stroll over and peer out the window. She felt stupid for thinking such a thing. Why would he actually come through the front door? He's the most prevailing, and glorious, master that Bellatrix Lestrange had ever met, heard, or read about. He was brilliant. The Dark Lord was her pride and ecstasy. She would do anything for him, just to kiss from his lips; to feel his hand upon her back, and his long fingers stroking her neck.

Bellatrix sat back down and resumed the drumming of her fingers. The portraits of her sister's family members were snoring quietly in their frames. She was disturbed by this, and wanted very much to shut them up. But at that moment, there was a short tap at the door, and it was pushed open to show a tall wizard with shimmering crimson eyes. He did not have to knock, but for some strange reason that Bella did not know, he did.

"Good afternoon, Bella," said The Dark Lord, in his high, cold voice that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand. He sat down next to her. He pointed his wand at the table and not even a second later, a piece of parchment appeared. It was sprawled with the short, stubby writing of Lucius Malfoy. "This will suffice, I think."

"My Lord, will you tell me what this is?" asked Bellatrix, confused by the haphazardness of the parchment.

He studied her with his blazing look for a few seconds, that had seemed much longer, and said, finally, "It is a farewell note."

"A farewell note?" she repeated, with utter astonishment. Had Voldemort finally finished off Lucius Malfoy, the man who had screwed himself up so much that it landed him in prison? "Does this mean..."

"He is dead."

She felt her body quiver. This was it, she couldn't take it anymore. She felt so close to him that her breasts heaved even more. She breathed faster and felt herself move closer to him. Voldemort, however, noticed nothing.

Upon realizing this rejection, Bellatrix's breathing slowed. She looked away to hide her saddened face. He stood up and said, "We have to go meet with Narcissa to tell her of her husband's passing."

"Oh, she won't be pleased," chortled Bellatrix, who had regained her composure, and she stood up as well. There was a shuffling of footsteps behind her, so they both turned to look. She saw a whip of a cloak, and began to chase after it, but her master put her hand on her bare shoulder, and she stopped. Chills, instantly, ran down her spine and to her toes. She felt the hair on her head tighten. She closed her eyes and took in the fleeting sense of intimacy she had with him.

"Let the poor boy go," said Voldemort. He had let go of her shoulder, but Bellatrix still felt his hand resting there. It seemed that the person who had run out of sight was Draco Malfoy, the son of Lucius and Narcissa. She did as she was told, and followed her master to the living room to depart for where her sister was known to be.

After Disapparating to Knockturn Alley, fully shielded by a disillusionment charm, the Dark Lord and his faithful servant entered the shop that was renowned for selling and buying dark and mysterious items: Borgin and Burkes. A necklace that was said to have a deadly curse put upon it; the Hand of Glory, which gave light only to its holder (both of which Draco had owned); and other things, like shrunken heads, skulls, and many more.

Narcissa Malfoy was in the backroom, picking out things for her new shelf in the family room. It pained Bella to think that her family only consisted, now, of her son Draco. But she didn't say this thought out loud, and, luckily, she was a skilled Occlumens, so her master wouldn't know her thoughts.

"Cissy?" Bellatrix called. She had her back turned to her sister, and didn't look around to acknowledge her. "Narcissa, I really need to speak with you."

At this, she turned. Her face was livid, and her skin might've gone paler when she noticed Lord Voldemort at Bella's side. "H-hello, my Lord. Bellatrix." She inclined her head to each of them.

"Narcissa," began Bellatrix. "This was left on the dining table." Voldemort handed Narcissa the note from Lucius. She tore it open and, after reading the first line, put her hand over her chest, fell back against the shelves that surrounded them, and tears began streaming down her face. She threw the letter down once she finished reading it. Bella ran to comfort her sister. She looked up and saw that The Dark Lord appeared bored. "Cissy, what is it-?"

"DON'T!" screamed Narcissa. "Don't you dare act like you didn't have anything to do with this!" She scrambled to her feet and ran out the room. Voldemort and Bellatrix were left, shocked. How had she known? The note clearly stated that he was to leave her and be with another woman from France. That he had left, early, that morning. How did she come to that conclusion?

"Don't comfort her any longer," said Voldemort. "She doesn't want it, so you will oblige."

Bellatrix didn't know what to say. She stared at him as if this was the first time she had seen his face. Her body swayed and she found a chair to sit in, that hadn't been there a second ago. "My lord…I might've just lost my sister forever…"

"I understand," he said simply.

"You do not." She stood up. Her voice hadn't changed tones, but she did feel her anger rising. As she headed for the door, without looking back at her master, she said, "You will never understand the sole purpose of a family. Or love…never, my lord."

She left the room to go find her sister. Borgin, the shop owner, was using his wand to dust the higher up shelves. "Where is my sister?" Bellatrix demanded in her deep voice, and constricted with the utmost hatred for the man in front of her, who had done nothing to her. He turned to face her, timidly falling back against the window pain. "Where is she, I ask!"

"Madam Lestrange, I know nothing of her whereabouts!" he responded, fighting to stay valiant, for he knew the woman could kill him with just the flick of her wand. Well, anyone could, but Bellatrix had, supposedly, no conscience in this category. "She Dissaparated without saying, Miss."

"Indeed?" asked Bella, tauntingly. "You know nothing? You swear this on the Dark Lord, himself? Who happens to be in the backroom, right now?"

"I do, Madam," he said, pleading. "I know nothing."

"Alright," said Bellatrix, plainly. She looked at the door to the backroom. She couldn't see anyone there, but assumed Voldemort was disillusioned. She Dissaparated to the Malfoy Manor.

The locked gate opened at her touch, and she headed up the pathway to the great white mansion. The peacocks strayed away from her, surely afraid. She opened the front door, and went inside. Bellatrix headed down the hallway to the staircase, and up them, retreated to her bedroom.

An hour later, there was still no news of Narcissa. Nor was there a sign of anyone else in the house, so Bella assumed Draco had gone. She called for Wormtail, but he was gone, as well. She touched her Dark Mark, and proceeded to the dining room to await her master. Surely he would understand that she was sorry for her words.

Once entering the dining hall, she noticed a dark mass at the high end of the table, in front of the fireplace. It surely was the Dark Lord. She sat at the opposite end. "Bellatrix, you couldn't possibly think that I wouldn't understand the principles of love, family, and friendship… these privileges were not given to me as a young boy, surely you know this. For you have studied my past more than Dumbledore! You husband happened to be one of my good…er...friends in school. I can only imagine all that he's told you."

Bella was silent the entire time her spoke, for he was actually speaking to her. She has only been granted this honor a few times before. "M-my lord…please. Please forgive me. I made a terrible-"

"Not a mistake, Dear Bellatrix. You meant it, I know this." He stopped speaking, and studied her for a moment.

"My lord, I apologize," she said, sincerely.

"You do not need to apologize," said Voldemort, and Bellatrix's eyes widened with shock. "I agree with you. Or at least, I agree with what you were trying get at in your fury, in your anger. I understand it is difficult to want intimacy with someone who does not 'love.'"

Bellatrix sat, even more shocked than before. How had he known that she felt this way about him?

"And don't bother wondering how I knew this," he said, shocking her more and more with every word he spoke. "I have known for a very long time."

"My lord, if you only understood…" she stopped. He had said that he understood already. Her face fell into her palms. She didn't know what else to say. Would he shun her? Banish her from his side? Would he kill her right there? She deserved it, she knew this. How dare she feel 'love' for her master? She should feel only pride, honor. Not love. Never love.

Voldemort had stood up. He walked to her chair (or, actually, he glided towards her) and knelt by her side, and placed a firm hand on her neck. This looked strangely like something a smitten man might do. Oh, shut up, thought Bellatrix. Stop thinking like this. It's not going to happen, so shut up!

"Accept from me that I will do my best to fall in love with you."

He had a glint in his eyes that was anything but crimson. It shone a brilliant silver; his pale hands, long and trembling. Why was he acting so foolish? This isn't Voldemort anymore. This is someone who has fallen.

"My lord, please," begged Bellatrix. "You don't need to do this. I'm just a daft woman who is lost in this world. Don't pity me."

"I do not pity you," said Voldemort, raising his eyes. "I do, however, want to make things work between us. It is most difficult of me to…succumb to this sort of behavior, Dear." Bellatrix was struck dumb in the chair she resided in.

"My lord, it is most gracious of you to treat me like a lady for once."

"Once, yes," said Voldemort, his lips curling into what could only be a smile. "Do not expect me to act so foolish again."

"Yes, sir."

"And there's no need to call me 'sir'."

This is Bellatrix's dreams come true. Anything good that could possibly ever happen to her has happened on that fateful day. The day was marked on her calendar the following day. Voldemort had killed Lucius; he made Narcissa leave (and go who knows where); Draco had left, as well; and the house was left to Bella. She got Voldemort to herself. Her adoration and lionizing didn't have to continue inside of her head. But wait?…. Where was Rodolphus?