2.

Rodolphus had never been away for this long. Typically he would leave in the morning and be home by dinner, as if he had a normal, ministry job. The truth was, his "job" was far from normal, it was far from safe, and Bellatrix knew it. She tried not to let it terrify her, but for the past eleven days, she'd allowed it to consume her.

Your emotions are going to get you in trouble, Bella, she told herself constantly. She knew that it was up to her to make sure that nothing went wrong, and that if she allowed her emotions to get the better of herself, she'd be weak when she needed to be strong. She constantly remembered the Dark Lord's words the night he found her naked and bleeding in the woods: "You must not allow yourself to be vulnerable, otherwise, you will not survive."

Normally, when those words echoed in her mind, she would reach for Rodolphus' hand. Her need for him was wholly emotional. They'd been married eight months, yet the marriage remained unconsummated. It was not for lack of attraction, Bellatrix and Rodolphus had been mad about each other since before they wed. The problem was rooted in wolves.

Bellatrix's training had been overseen mostly by Fenrir Greyback. From the time she was sixteen, she would be taken away from Hogwarts by him on weekends, and taught in the harsh wilderness of nearby mountains. Summer, winter, and spring alike, they trained. She had learned to survive with the pack, without the comforts and amenities of the privileged life she had led for so long. Despite the fact that they were, in her eyes, tainted beings, she had grown fond of their company, and had become close friends with Greyback.

Their training sessions were cut short abruptly when Greyback allowed a wandering werewolf to stay with them for the night. Bellatrix wandered off into the woods in the early morning, and, seeing an opportunity, the wanderer followed, attacked, and raped her. Lord Voldemort came around just in time to kill the wolf and offer Bellatrix a bit of advice about better protecting herself before disapparating, leaving her with a very confused and pissed off werewolf.

She'd never forgotten what the Dark Lord had told her, and she'd never fully recovered from the incident. From that moment, Bellatrix considered herself dirty, unfit to be touched by a pureblood. Rodolphus, in love with Bellatrix as he was, had made the decision not to inform their parents, and the betrothal continued as planned. They had a Yule wedding, which took place over her break from school during her seventh year. Though Bellatrix had never expressly conveyed that she did not want to be intimate, Rodolphus thought it best to give her space.

Their relationship was in no way based on sex, and this comforted Bellatrix. To know that Rodolphus loved her, regardless of whether she was willing to give herself to him, allowed her a peace of mind that she would not have had otherwise. She did love him, and eventually she would give in to what they both desired, but not until she was sure that she could have him without it being tainted by memories of the wolf.

So when the twelfth day came around, the day Greyback had indicated, it was strange to Bellatrix that she was suddenly overcome with a longing for him. Her desire was carnal and raw; she wanted nothing more than to drag him up to their bedroom and allow him to consume her. She assumed that it was because she was not used to him being gone, and busied herself with meaningless tasks in order to quell her excitement. She took to arranging candles and flowers, even rearranging the great room, which she knew would be bustling with activity as soon as the men arrived back.

She had even allowed herself to become so enthralled with changing the colors of the curtains in the hallway that she almost didn't notice when a large owl swooped in and dropped a letter on a table by her. She nearly ignored the letter until she recognized the markings on the owl's face. Fearing the worst, she opened the emerald envelope and unfolded the letter, which had been written in ink of the same colour.

"I will be arriving promptly at seven.

Roast duck will be ready upon my arrival.

Our "guest" will also be requiring a room,

The dungeon will suffice. "

It wasn't signed, but she knew exactly whom the letter was from. There was no mistaking the handwriting. A cold rush ran through her body, temporarily raising the hairs on her arms. A smile spread quickly across her face at the idea of having the Dark Lord as a guest in her home.

"Seven," she read aloud, looking up at the large grandfather clock at the end of the hall and snapping her fingers. As soon as the elf was within earshot she began barking orders. "Curtains- green. Master bedroom, prepared within the hour. Roasted duck by five minutes to seven. Clean the great room. You and the other four have three hours—two hours and forty five minutes- to make this home spotless."

She waved the elf off and brushed past him, nearly knocking him over in her rush to get down to the dungeon. It had been used many times, and as such, was already well equipped for it's purpose, however, she suspected it had not been cleaned since it's last use.

Her suspicion was confirmed as soon as she opened the large, metal door. She threw her hands over her face and it took all her willpower to keep from bringing up her lunch. The mudblood who was once her herbology teacher was now nothing more than a rotting corpse in her dungeon. She muttered thanks that the dungeon was only accessible from the outside, and snapped her fingers once more, ordering the elf down into the depths of what some would consider their own private hell, while she went back upstairs to make herself presentable.

The time passed slowly, she could smell the wonderful aromas of the duck, and the potatoes that the elves were cooking with it. She could hear rushing downstairs; the elves were hard at work cleaning the house. According to the large grandfather clock standing in the corner, she still had over an hour. She walked over to her large armoire and stood surveying her options. Given the evening's company, she decided to dress a bit more formally than she normally would have. She pulled out a blue dress, then a green one, then red, hanging them next to each other for comparison after holding them up in the mirror. She let out an exasperated sigh and then took a step back, looking at herself critically.

Bellatrix sat on the bed and unlaced her boots, kicking them off and pulling her pants off with them, throwing them into a heap at the foot of the bed. She didn't take off the shirt she was wearing, though. No, the shirt was Rodolphus', and it would stay on for the time being. She still had time before she needed to be ready. Looking at herself in the mirror once more, she remembered that the Dark Lord's return meant that Rodolphus would be coming home as well.

He's coming home.

She thought better about calling for a house elf; they were all busy preparing the rest of the house for the Dark Lord's arrival, so she took the task of straightening their room upon herself. Scurrying around like an excited child, she threw clothing into piles and made the bed. She lit a few candles and smiled contentedly as the sweet smell of cinnamon filled the room. A crash came from downstairs, followed by a wail of self-inflicted punishment from one of the elves. When she looked at the clock, she had only an hour left.

Dragging her feet back to the mirror, she once again held the dresses up in front of her, one by one. The green was too cheesy. She didn't want to seem as if she was sucking up to him… The blue washed her out. She could hear Narcissa screaming somewhere in the back of her mind.

"And the red makes me look like a harlot," she said aloud. "Fantastic."

"I always thought you looked amazing in red," her husband's voice came from the doorway, shocking her. She dropped the dress in her momentary surprise, and Rodolphus raised an eyebrow and grinned when he realized she was wearing just his shirt and nothing more. "However, I think I've found a look that I like best.