23 August 1968

Marsham House

Broadway, Worcestershire

"Enter." Voldemort looked up from his desk at the sound of knocking on his office door. Bellatrix came in and said cautiously,

"Sorry to bother you. I know you said you like to keep your office to yourself."

"It's not a bother." Voldemort sipped from his lemonade and shrugged. "Do you need something?"

"I was wondering if you could take me to my parents' house," Bellatrix said, and when Voldemort frowned in confusion, she specified, "So I can go shopping for school in Diagon Alley."

"Oh. Is that today?" Voldemort sipped the rest of his lemonade and slowly stood. "I'll take you."

"I couldn't trouble you with that," Bellatrix insisted, but Voldemort scoffed and reminded her,

"Your parents have to take Andromeda and Narcissa. And, anyway, you are my financial responsibility now, not theirs."

"Oh. I suppose that must have been part of the bargain," Bellatrix nodded, her cheeks pinking. "I shall be very judicious. I promise."

"Don't worry. It's no trouble. I am your husband. I genuinely do not mind taking you shopping," Voldemort said. For school supplies, he added in his mind, his stomach churning. He came around his desk and sniffed lightly, going into a drawer along the wall and taking out a crushed velvet drawstring bag. He filled it with a handful of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. He cleared his throat and asked lightly,

"Are you in need of a new uniform this year?"

Bellatrix was quiet for a moment, and when he turned toward her, frowning, she knitted her hands before her shrugged a little. Her cheeks were scarlet.

"My robe fits fine," she said, "and so does my skirt; I haven't grown any taller. But my… chest…"

"No, it's fine; we'll get you whatever you need." Voldemort tossed a few more Galleons into his bag and thought over the last few days. He'd kissed her twice more. Once had been outside her bedroom door, after a day spent desperately trying not to kiss her. The second time had been in the morning, before she'd gone to her parents' house for the day. He'd meant to just give her a little peck goodbye, but it had turned into pressing her against the front door of the house, his erection driving against her stomach as he crushed her mouth with his.

It was probably for the best that she was leaving for school in just over a week.

"Let's go by Side-Along," Voldemort suggested, holding out his arm. Bellatrix looked nervous, but she stepped up to him and took hold of his black robe sleeve. Voldemort Disapparated smoothly, coming to almost immediately in Diagon Alley, just outside Florean Fortescue's. Bellatrix stumbled and gagged, and he pressed his hand to her back and mumbled an anti-nausea charm. He helped her stand, and she muttered,

"I despise Apparation."

"You'll get used to it," he promised her, realising she wasn't even licenced yet. He gulped and rolled his neck. Diagon Alley was busy today, and many eyes were upon him. He was famous now, even if he wasn't powerful yet. People whispered about Lord Voldemort, about Tom Riddle, about the man who wanted to revive anti-Muggle-born sentiment. People eyed him with wonder, fear, derision, or respect, depending on who they were. Now people seemed curious, too, for everyone knew that the forty-one-year-old Tom Riddle had married the still sixteen-year-old Bellatrix Black.

"Everyone's staring," Bellatrix whispered, and Voldemort just said,

"Ignore them. We have shopping to do; they don't matter."

"Yes, My Lord," she huffed, and he couldn't help smiling down at her a little. Her breath shook as she pulled out her supply list. "Right. Let's go to Twillfit and Tattings first. I just need three new white shirts, two new sleeveless jumpers, and, erm… undergarments, so."

"I'll wait here." Voldemort pulled out a few coins and handed them to Bellatrix, and she was red-cheeked as she nodded and mumbled her thanks. She hurried off toward Twillfit and Tattings, and Voldemort stood in patient quiet as people passed him by.

"Mr Riddle!"

He looked up at the sound of the name, and he raised his brows when he saw Cygnus Black III walking toward him. Cygnus wouldn't normally use the name, but they were in public. Voldemort nodded crisply at the man who had been a younger student in school, who was now his father-in-law.

"Cygnus," he acknowledged. "Bellatrix just went off to get some new school clothes."

"Ah. She'll find her mother and sisters in there, then. I can't wait round in the robe shop with the ladies," Cygnus smiled. His grin faded a little as he asked, "How is she? How is she adjusting, I mean?"

"She seems happy," Voldemort promised. "She reads a lot. Takes tea in the conservatory."

Tastes like honey and smells like rain, he wanted to say, but he didn't. He flicked his eyes away from Cygnus, afraid his gaze would give him up. Cygnus said seriously,

"It was kind of you to bring her shopping today. I'm sure it meant the world to her."

"I'm her husband, Cygnus," Voldemort snapped. "It is my duty to take care of her. I promised you I would, and I shall."

"You are a man of your word," Cygnus nodded, and Voldemort felt the weight of the unspoken meaning there. He just nodded a little and told Cygnus,

"The Family Black will be of utmost significance in my movement. I hope you know."

"I do know. We are already honoured by your presence among us," Cygnus said.

"Daddy!"

Voldemort sighed as Bellatrix came trotting up, a brown paper bag over her arm. She embraced her father and explained,

"I only needed a few things. Andy and Cissy are getting whole new robes cut, looks like. Mum says she needs more coin, so you have to go back in there, I'm afraid."

"Of course she needs more coin." Cygnus rolled his eyes. "Good to see you, darling. Sir."

He bowed his head to Voldemort, who nodded crisply. Bellatrix smiled at her father as he walked off, and she held out her palm to Voldemort with two Galleons and a Sickle - the change from what she'd spent. He frowned.

"Are you certain you got what you needed?"

"Yes. Thank you." She looked at her list, pushed her pretty curls away from her face and said, "I need new books this year. Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6. Advanced Potion-Making. Confronting the Faceless. A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration. Advanced Rune Translation. Flesh-Eating Trees of the World."

"Oh. Well, you only need one of those," Voldemort shrugged, and Bellatrix frowned, shaking her head in confusion. Voldemort smirked and said, "Nevermind. I'm sure you don't want second-hand books."

"Second-hand books?" Bellatrix asked, and then realisation came over her face. "You kept your old school books?"

"Some of them," Voldemort nodded. "I kept my Potions text, my Transfiguration and Runes texts. And then I know that there are copies of Confronting the Faceless and Flesh-Eating Trees of the World on the shelves in the parlour. I remember putting them there. It's fine; we'll get you your own copies."

"No." Bellatrix shook her head, and a strange look came over her face. She licked her lip and said seriously, "I'd like to use yours."

Voldemort's stomach flopped, and he muttered, "I probably… doodled in the margins, so…"

She grinned. "Good."

"Well, you still need Standard Book of Spells," Voldemort said lightly, "so, off to Flourish and Blotts with us, eh?"

Flourish and Blotts was absolutely packed, so packed that Bellatrix seemed rather anxious about stepping inside. Voldemort peeked into her mind and sensed fear about getting crushed in the crowd, and he disliked feeling that from her. He leaned down and said in the gentlest voice he could manage,

"Wait outside. I'll buy the book and bring it to you."

She turned her face, panting with anxiety, and she whispered, "Are you certain, My Lord?"

"Go." He nodded, and she hurried away. He found a copy of the book on a high stack, and he himself was profoundly uncomfortable waiting on line to buy it.

"Going back to school, Mr Riddle?" he heard a wizard ask, and when he flicked his eyes to the side, he saw red-haired young wizard he instantly recognised as Arthur Weasley, a blood traitor. He was a seventh-year student at Hogwarts, a staunch proponent of equality between Muggles and magical people. Voldemort rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Silence, Weasley," he said, and Arthur scoffed.

"Has your child bride gone for ice cream whilst you buy her school supplies for her?"

Silencio, Voldemort incanted wandlessly and nonverbally. Arthur stomped his foot, opening his mouth and angrily trying to speak. Voldemort smirked as he set Bellatrix's textbook on the counter and plunked down one Galleon. He stepped away and tipped his head at Arthur Weasley.

"Cat got your tongue, Mr Weasley?" he asked, and then he nonverbally reinforced the Silencing Charm. He stalked quickly out of Flourish and Blotts and out into the street, where Bellatrix was waiting with a grateful look on her face. She grinned and said,

"I don't think I need anything else. I've got all my Potions supplies and everything from last term. And if you've got the other books…"

"I've got them," Voldemort said tightly. Bellatrix's smile faded.

"Something wrong?"

"If we've finished, let's go," he suggested, holding out his arm. Bellatrix's mouth fell open in surprise, but she took his arm and let him Disapparate. When they came to inside the foyer of Marsham House, Voldemort stalked into the foyer and wandlessly Summoned the specific books Bellatrix needed. He handed them to her and walked into his office, going to a shelf near his desk. It was where he kept the schoolbooks he'd kept in an Expanded bag when traveling around the Continent. He found his Potions, Runes, and Transfigurations texts, and he put the stack onto Bellatrix's overburdened arms. He sat down at his desk and said to her,

"Let me know if there's anything else you need."

"Erm… thank you, My Lord," Bellatrix said cautiously. She stumbled out of his office, leaving the door open since her arms were so full. Voldemort wandlessly pushed the door shut behind her.

"You're cross with me," Bellatrix said at the dinner table, but Voldemort shook his head and said honestly,

"I am cross, but not with you."

"What can I do?" Bellatrix asked. He raised his eyes to her, and he shrugged.

"Grow up a little."

She seemed very hurt by that, and her eyes actually welled as she told him, "I try my best. I try… to be a grown witch, and -"

"It is not your fault that I signed a contract to marry you before your birthday," Voldemort noted. "It is not your fault that your marriage was arranged with a wizard twenty-five years older than you. None of that is your fault. Still, I dislike the mockery."

"Mockery." Bellatrix looked more hurt than ever. She set down her knife and fork from her roast beef and asked cautiously. "Someone mocked you?"

"He is irrelevant; he is a blood traitor," Voldemort clipped, eating some of his own meat. "Anyway, I silenced him. Literally."

Bellatrix looked thoughtful for a long moment, as if she were trying to think about who she'd seen go into the shop. She finally nodded.

"Arthur Weasley."

"You're observant," Voldemort said. He sipped his red wine and murmured, "He is nothing. He is a meaningless man. And yet his particular word choice irked me in a troublesome way."

Bellatrix sipped her water; she wasn't old enough yet for wine. She shrugged and asked,

"What was his word choice, My Lord?"

He hesitated and then cleared his throat. "Erm… child bride."

He swigged down the rest of his wine, and when it refilled itself, he drank the entirety of the glass in three swigs. When it refilled itself again, he drank it all, and then he thought he might be sick, so he stopped. By then, when he looked at Bellatrix, she seemed very angry. At first, Voldemort thought she was angry with him, but she shook her head rather wildly and insisted,

"He has no idea what he's talking about. I am not a child. I know far more magic than that Muggle-loving blood traitor could ever hope to know. I have a craving for the Dark Arts. I long to serve you as a soldier when your movement materialises - and I know it will materialise. And I know who you are and what you will become. If he knew, he would never speak to you like that. He'd have bowed his head and called you Master if he knew what you'll become. My Lord."

Voldemort's jaw dropped at that. His heart was beating a tattoo in his chest, and there was heat in his ears. He pushed his chair back and stood slowly, staring at Bellatrix. She tipped her chin up, almost defiantly, and she whispered,

"I am not a child bride."

"No. You are not," Voldemort affirmed. He shut his eyes, dizzy with want, and he whispered, "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

"What? It's half past seven," Bellatrix said confusedly. But Voldemort knew that if he stayed near Bellatrix right now, he was going to do all sorts of things that the provisional phase of their marriage did not allow. He gulped hard and held out his right hand.

"Accio Dreamless Sleep."

As he drank a very large dose of it, he saw Bellatrix's face soften with realisation. She nodded a little as he set the little bottle on the table, and she rose and came around the table. She stood before Voldemort and put his hands on his chest.

"Go upstairs before you can't walk," she whispered, and he nodded.

"Goodnight," he replied. She leaned up onto her toes, and he took her face, bending to kiss her very gently. He touched his forehead to hers and whispered, "Bella?"

"Mmm-hmm."

Suddenly he was drowsy, dizzy and tired and swaying, and he mumbled in a slur,

"I am so very happy to be your husband, Bellatrix."

"Oh." She sounded emotional all of a sudden, and he distantly heard her whisper, "I am so very happy to be your wife, My Lord."

"Goodnight." He kissed her cheeks one at a time, then her lips, and as he stumbled away and heaved himself up the stairs, she called after him in a cracked little voice,

"Goodnight."

Author's Note: Raise your hand if you think it's cute that she has his books! Raise your other hand if you think they'll do *something* before she gets on the Hogwarts Express! Mwah hahaha. Thanks SO MUCH for all the feedback on this story. It's valued more than I can say.