"The current financial situation is quite secure, My Lord," said Cygnus Black where he sat opposite Lord Voldemort in his office. Cato Burke observed the meeting carefully; this was only his third day on the job. Cygnus pulled out a parchment and said to both Voldemort and Cato, "We have secured financial investments - all cloaked in secrecy, of course - in wizarding nations that value Blood Purity. In this way, we protect ourselves against the inevitable economic instability that wizarding Britain will endure during the transition period."
"The transition period," Cato repeated, looking curious. "You mean the era during which the Ministry shifts from its current form to control by the Dark Lord. What specific instabilities might arise?"
"Shops closing and reopening under new, approved management," Voldemort informed him. "Vaults at Gringotts sitting untouched by those purged - at least until we clear them out ourselves. The value of the British Galleon will dip at first as other nations are uncertain, and then once confidence rises and we take coins out of circulation, we'll be able to stabilise things. Have I got it right, Cygnus?"
"Quite right, Master," said the father-in-law of the Dark Lord. He turned to Cato and said, "We have a protocol in place. Sixteen steps to follow as things progress. I'll want you to memorise the plan in its entirety."
"Yes, sir," Cato nodded obediently. Voldemort sighed. Cato Burke was more than capable and was exceedingly well-behaved. But for some reason, Voldemort couldn't help imagining a tender little Bellatrix kissing the boy.
But, then, that was foolish, for Bellatrix had never been a tender little thing. She'd probably been vicious then, too. Why a soft boy like Cato had wanted her was a mystery that he couldn't quite figure. Why Bellatrix would have wanted a gentle-spoken little boy like Cato was even more mysterious.
"Do I have your permission to go ahead with that, My Lord?" he heard Cygnus Black III ask, and Voldemort cleared his throat, pretending he'd been paying attention as he reached for the parchment on the table. He saw then what Cygnus was referencing - buying up a broomstick company in Japan.
"Yes. That will be fine. Thank you both for your service. Dismissed." Voldemort watched as the two wizards rose and then bowed respectfully before leaving his office. Voldemort shut his eyes and breathed deeply for a long moment, wishing he could rid his mind of the idiotic jealousy he'd been feeling.
Fourteen. Fifteen. She'd been a child. Cato had been a child. She'd married Rodolphus; she'd fucked Rodolphus. Why did Voldemort care about this, even one little bit?
Right on cue, there was a call from outside his office. Her voice, clear and confident, cried out,
"Master, will you open the door? Hands are full, wand's tucked away…"
He frowned and stood, striding across the office until he reached the door. He pulled it open to see Bellatrix standing there with a large tray full of food in her arms.
"I ought to have Levitated it," she said, walking past him into his office without permission. "No idea why I didn't. I wish I could do wandless magic as well as you. Anyway, I've brought you lunch, because it's two in the afternoon and I happen to know you haven't eaten since seven this morning."
She set the tray down on his desk, and Voldemort smiled a little to himself as he shut the door.
"Well, you'll be needing to eat, too," he insisted, and Bellatrix put her hands on her hips.
"I've found that eating little snacks every few hours is much easier. My appetite is still barely there; I can't binge on large meals. I'm trying to… you know, munch."
"Munch." Voldemort nodded and moved to sit at his desk. Bellatrix pulled the lid off his plate, and he breathed in the warm scent of the stewed beef and onions with bread to sop up the juices. His eyebrows went up when he saw the glass of dark stout.
"Beer," he noted. "You've brought me beer."
"I can get you something different, if you'd like," Bellatrix said, and before Voldemort could answer, he scowled. She had a little bowl in her hands - a bowl of sliced carrots. She was picking up the carrot slices one at a time and chewing them, and he informed her,
"Eating carrot slices is not going to help you get healthy again."
Bellatrix set down the little bowl and shrugged. "Master, I'm doing my best."
"I know." He nodded and dragged his knuckles over his forehead. "I know. It's not as though I can consult a Healer about it. I don't like the fact that your hunger has not returned, and, in fact, the problem seems to be getting worse. I won't have you waste away because of this, Bellatrix."
She stared at her carrots, her face suddenly seeming terrifying in how bony and angular it was. She raised her eyes and said,
"Imperius me."
Voldemort's mouth fell open, ready to protest, but then he realised she was onto something. He cleared his throat and reached for her bowl of carrots, and he dumped them onto his own plate. He used his spoon to bring some beef and carrots into her bowl, along with a little bread. It wasn't much, but it was far more than she'd been eating. He passed the bowl and spoon to her, and Bellatrix looked like she was going to be sick. Voldemort aimed his wand at her, waited for eye contact, and focused every bit of magical energy he had.
"Imperio."
Green smoke washed over Bellatrix, and she blinked a few times, but he could feel her mind resisting the Curse. Well, of course her mind would be too strong for this. She was a remarkably powerful Occlumens, an easy killer. Voldemort gnawed his lip, concentrated hard, and said more firmly,
"Imperio!"
This time the spell took hold, and Bellatrix stared at him with a blankness in her eyes that made Voldemort very uncomfortable. He picked up his fork and instructed her,
"Eat the food, Bellatrix. All of it."
"Yes, Master."
He glanced up to her a few times as he ate his half of the bread, a few bites of the stewed beef, and a few of the raw carrot slices. He took a deep draught of his beer and saw that Bellatrix was physically struggling to bring the spoonfuls of food to her mouth. Her mind was instinctively resisting the order.
"Imperio," Voldemort barked, snapping his wand toward her and hurtling his power straight into her mind. She finally sped up her eating, and soon enough the little bowl of food was empty. Bellatrix looked like she was going to cry, and as she set the bowl down, she noted morosely,
"I feel ill."
"This is how you're going to get better," Voldemort informed her. "Finite Incantatem."
She gave no indication that she'd been released from the spell other than to push her empty bowl away from her and cover her mouth with her hand. Voldemort pursed his lips and quickly incanted,
"Nonemesis."
"Thank you." Bellatrix's whisper was barely audible as he took away her body's urge to reject the food. Voldemort shook his head and reiterated,
"I don't like this one bit. Something's wrong."
"Well," Bellatrix said softly, "I think it's safe to say that the magic I performed would have consequences. You're too strong to have borne them, probably."
"No. This is… you will need to do this at least once a day, Bellatrix, until I feel like you're healthy again. You get this thin, this malnourished, and your organs will fail on you. The goal is not to use the Horcrux within a few weeks of making it, you understand."
Bellatrix just nodded, steeling herself and saying very firmly,
"I will do whatever it takes, Master. Whatever you need of me."
"Bella?"
She turned from the bathroom mirror, her toothbrush going still in her hand as she peered around the threshold of the doorway. Her grandmother Irma Black had died, and today was the funeral. Lord Voldemort was buttoning up his solemn black robes, and he studied Bellatrix carefully.
"Yesh, Mashter?" Bellatrix spit out the foam in her mouth and rinsed, deciding that she'd go without makeup today.
"You're looking… a little better." He stepped into the bathroom and pulled her left arm out. She felt self-conscious as he studied it, but at last he said, "Still not back to where you were, and you were always quite slim. But at least now I'm not afraid you'll dissolve into thin air on me."
She smiled a little at him, and she asked, "Will you help me tailor my dress just a little? I'm rubbish with the spells. I don't want it to be hanging off me. People will worry."
"Of course." Voldemort helped her into her long-sleeved black caped dress, and as Bellatrix arranged a black mourning veil over her curls, she could hear him muttering spells to tighten up the stitching and seams. He knew everything, she thought. It felt like there was absolutely nothing that he didn't know how to do.
"Do me a favour," Voldemort murmured from where he stood behind Bellatrix. She pushed pins in to secure the black lace veil to her hair, and she answered,
"Anything."
"There will be food at the funeral. I don't care what it is that you eat, but I want you to count seven bites. You must eat at least seven bites of something. Do you understand?"
Bellatrix turned around and frowned, but she nodded. Voldemort bent to touch his lips to her forehead.
"Were you close with her?" he asked. "With your grandmother?"
"She was awful," Bellatrix said, and Voldemort snorted a little laugh. Bellatrix smirked and shook her head. "One time when I was five, I picked some flowers in the garden at her country house. I was out playing alone. No one was, you know, supervising the small child. Anyway, I picked some flowers, and she got so angry that she left me lying in the garden in a Full Body-Bind Curse for two hours."
"What?" Voldemort seemed utterly shocked, and he shook his head madly. "Over some damned flowers? They weren't even that bad at the orphanage, for Merlin's…"
He froze then, and Bellatrix frowned a little as she whispered, "Orphanage?"
His cheeks went crimson, and he moved quickly away from her. "Another world. A life that's been snuffed out. It doesn't matter. Let's go."
Bellatrix stayed where she stood. "You grew up in… in an orphanage?"
"It's none of your business," Voldemort snarled, and Bellatrix recoiled in a little bit of fear. Voldemort's face softened slightly, and he wrenched his eyes shut. He hesitated for a long moment and then finally said in a snakelike hiss, "My mother was a member of the House of Gaunt - old and noble and pure, but on the verge of extinction. She died when I was born. My father had no interest in me. I was raised by Muggles in an orphanage, yes. Or, at least, Tom Riddle was."
He opened his eyes and shrugged, his face twisting a little.
"Happy now? Now that you know that filthy little secret?"
Bellatrix's heart raced in her chest, and she shook her head a little as she stepped toward him and said,
"I am your wife and the most loyal servant you could ever have, Master. You needn't keep secrets from me for fear of my judgment. There could never be anything shameful about a wizard like you. Just the same, I will only ever know those things which you deem me worthy of knowing."
He pushed her veil away from her face as he neared her, holding her cheeks in his hands as he studied her eyes. His own gaze was flickering, and there was a sudden flash of scarlet that came over his irises. Bellatrix flinched beneath his touch as his eyes went back to normal. He swallowed hard and told her,
"You know, Bellatrix… I really am exceptionally fond of you. Now. Let's go. A very awful witch is being buried today."
Author's Note: Whoops - he let a little too much slip! Now that that's happened, what else will he decide to tell her? She knows so little of his past. How much will he decide she should know? And will Bellatrix's body get back to rights, or is the damage from the Horcrux permanent? Hm… Thank you so very much for reading, and a huge thanks to those who have already left encouragement as I begin this fic.