For the next several days, the dark lord's presence was sparse. Whenever someone asked Bellatrix, she would simply smirk and tell them she had no idea. Not surprisingly, no one bought it. But no one bothered her either. The Malfoys finally dared to step into the old Black house a few days after Bellatrix's and Voldemort's secret little kiss, and only briefly. Narcissa and Draco spoke fleetingly with Bellatrix about winning back some favor with the dark lord; Lucius, understandably, avoided Bellatrix like she carried the plague, instead making the excuse that he needed to talk to Rabastan about Rodolphus's will. Bellatrix considered magically tripping Lucius as he walked out of the room, but then decided against it. She would lay off terrorizing Lucius until he did something else to make her mad.

"Bella, just-just, please, tell me if anything…well, if he makes a decision?"

"I will, I will," Bellatrix assured her. "But something tells me that when he wants you all back, he'll let you know."

Narcissa nodded. "I-I just needed to talk to someone…to make sure I wasn't missing anything…"

"I understand," Bellatrix said hastily. "Now, I suggest going before he shows up…nasty habit of his, but it's actually kind of funny-"

"Bella…just keep me updated?"

"What could you possibly need to be informed of…Narcissa."

Narcissa fairly screamed. Voldemort swept across the room in one great movement, black robes blurring with magic as he flew across the ground to wash right over Narcissa much like a ghost. Bellatrix took a step back, her heart suddenly in her throat. How would the dark lord react to Narcissa's presence? And, even better, how would he react to hers?

"Narcissa, you may take your husband and your son and leave," Voldemort snarled. "Bellatrix, you may stay here."

Narcissa grabbed Draco and fairly ran out of the room. Voldemort paused, waiting for her quick, mincing footsteps to vanish and the front door to slam before he turned around to face Bellatrix, an unreadable emotion on his face. Bellatrix nervously averted her eyes, unsure of what to do. Voldemort didn't say anything for a moment; it seemed he, too, was at a loss.

"We need to talk."

Clearly. The thought flashed across Bellatrix's mind momentarily, and she was suddenly very, very thankful for Occlumency.

"I shouldn't have done that."

Bellatrix didn't have to ask for clarification; it was exceedingly clear that he meant their impromptu kiss the other night. Still, she said nothing, made no eye contact, barely even breathed. Gone was the earlier confidence from her mental comment; now, in the face of bitter reality, Bellatrix could only be ashamed of herself for ever deluding herself into thinking it could be true.

"Don't take this the wrong way…I do give a bloody damn if you live or die, or whatever happens to those who love has spurned…but I can't do this. I can't love. You know that."

"I do," Bellatrix murmured. "I know you think that way, but…I beg to differ."

Voldemort simply snickered, and began slowly pacing up and down the room. Bellatrix remained quite stationary, watching him out of the corner of her eye. How she longed to run to him and embrace him, to show him that as long as he was willing, she could love him! She wanted nothing more than to show Voldemort that as long as she was willing to give him love, he was able to feel that affection. "You presume to tell me," Voldemort said slowly, clasping his hands behind his back while still furiously pacing, "that you think that I can, not only feel emotion, but…love?"

"Yes," Bellatrix whispered. "I know you can feel emotion, my lord…we have all seen your rage, your disappointment, your agitation, your pleasure…but we have never once seen your affection, your contentment, your happiness…I believe that you have the capability to feel these emotions, just never the opportunity."

Voldemort threw off Bellatrix's words. "Precious," he said slowly, turning over every syllable in his mouth slowly and letting it roll off of his tongue in a purr. "Precocious…a lovely ideal world…but, alas, dear Bella, impossible."

"But it is possible!" Bellatrix gasped, suddenly rushing up to meet Voldemort in his next trip up the room. She was simply unable to restrain herself any longer. "We saw that between us! You can still know happiness, my lord-!"

"Happiness and lust are two distinctive things!" Voldemort rasped, seizing Bellatrix's wrists as she brought her hands up to grasp the front of his robes. "I do not know what happiness is, Bella! Do not presume to know anything about that-!"

"I can give you-!"

"Bella-!"

"Don't give this up-!"

"You think only of yourself!"

"I think of the moment you kissed me back!"

The sound of a harsh, resounding slap was heard throughout almost the entire manor; Bellatrix's dark curls spun around her head, and she took a staggering step back, shock etched into her face. Voldemort looked strangely calm, if not a bit agitated. Bellatrix, however, wasn't about to take that the same way. Tears welled up in her eyes, and for a moment, Voldemort thought that she would simply flee the room and leave him in peace. But instead, she took positively the opposite course of action.

Striding right up to Voldemort again, Bellatrix fisted her hands in his robes and yanked him closer, smashing their mouths together in a brutal, demanding, bruising kiss. It was hot, it was passionate, it was mocking, and Bellatrix knew exactly what she was doing. Something vaguely registered in Voldemort's mind that perhaps she had envisioned this, played it all out in her mind, and then, he was reaching for his wand. Bellatrix knocked it right out of his hand, kicking it away and holding him tighter. She broke away and sucked in a deep breath, barely an inch from his mouth, not willing to go far and sacrifice this position she held.

"Without a wand, you're just a man," she breathed, hot exhale flowing over his lips. "A man I know well enough…to be comfortable…doing this…" Bellatrix leaned in again, and he didn't even try to stop her this time. It wasn't worth it. Maybe if he gave her a small taste of this drug she craved, just enough to sate her rabid craving, she would back off and come out of her crazed mindset. Maybe then he could talk some sense into her. Ha, sense? Voldemort then thought. None of this made sense. And how had he managed to lose his wand, anyway? Did she have hers? Great, caught between a woman and a wand and neither were particularly good for his health-

A flash issued from Bellatrix's wand, and the room was suddenly muffled. Voldemort wasn't entirely sure where this was going, or if he liked the destination, but something told him that, for once, he should shut up and let Bellatrix direct them.

"I hope you cast a few other charms to ensure we aren't disturbed."

"Several," Bellatrix whispered, cutting off anything else Voldemort might have said with a firm kiss. The message was clear: shut the hell up, you're ruining it. Voldemort decided against scolding her: for now, anyway. If she knew what she was doing, this could be a very pleasant night for both of them. And, as Bellatrix's hands started working at his robes, Voldemort got the sense Bellatrix knew exactly what she was doing.

Yeah. He could let her go.

OOOOOOOOO

Severus Snape was not so much alive as he was dead. Or was he not so much dead as he was alive? He couldn't be dead. He was lying on some sort of flat surface, and it was solid, so he must not be floating through the clouds of the afterlife…but where was he?

Upon looking around, Snape could see surroundings start to build themselves around him. Standing in the distance and swiftly growing closer was a tall, spectral figure, silvery and almost surreal. The more Snape looked around, the more this looked like the Shrieking Shack, and the more that figure looked like Dumbledore.

"Severus! My goodness, Severus, why all the blood?"

Snape shook his head, turning his back to Dumbledore. "You lied," he said flatly. "You lied, you bitter old fool."

Dumbledore just walked up next to Snape and stood, smiling, peering over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "If I lied, Severus, I did so without my own knowledge," Dumbledore said kindly, setting a hand on Snape's arm. "Come, Severus-let us walk, and you tell me of your tale. It seems, from those wounds, that it wasn't pretty?"

"It wasn't," Snape said stiffly. "Tell me, Albus…am I truly dead?"

"Well, Harry just asked me the same question, so I should think to answer you both in kind," Dumbledore said, smiling. "I believe that this is the crossroads between this world and the next: the place where one chooses whether to move on, or to remain to finish up some business in the world…or, I suppose, if you were accidently turned into a Horcrux, to go back."

Snape visibly stiffened at the word "Horcrux," and his heart leapt to his throat. "About that," he said slowly, pausing in his step. Dumbledore paused as well, waiting patiently for Snape as the pallid man gathered his thoughts. After a moment, Snape moved forward again, seemingly confident in himself again. His black robes, now slick with blood, rippled eerily in the wind of his movement. Droplets of blood spattered the ground, but they vanished almost instantly. "Now, Albus, care to explain to me what went wrong?"

"Voldemort is a fickle, unstable entity," Dumbledore said slowly. "We hazarded a few guesses along the way; this is just the one that went wrong. I do apologize for all the peril along the way, and for destabilizing your soul so much…"

"Not that," Snape said curtly. "Although towards the end you're on the right track. No, see, Albus, you told me that by killing you, if I maintained the mentality that you asked me to do so and it was sparing you pain that it would not damage my soul. That was your lie, you bitter old man: my soul was indeed torn cleanly in two, contrary to what you said."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "I don't understand, Severus," he said. "Did your guilt overcome you-?"

"No, you sodden fool," Snape snarled. "I killed you, Albus. That tore my soul in two, and nothing can put it back together."

Dumbledore's look changed to worried. "Severus, you didn't-" he started.

"I did," Snape said tauntingly. "I figured it was in two pieces already, why not? I made it into a Horcrux."

Dumbledore sighed, and there was nothing but sorrow and sadness and regret on his face. "Severus, I…I'm so sorry…I never meant-"

"It doesn't matter," Snape said shortly. "I can go back, and I will."

Dumbledore's sadness only increased. "And you don't exactly have a choice, Severus…do you?"

Snape only shook his head, and turned a corner. They began descending a set of stairs; Snape seemed to know instinctively where they were going. The scene of the death.

"By visiting this place, it might be counter-productive, Severus."

"I don't care. When I go back, I'll need to haunt him all his miserable existence."

"You could join Lily."

Snape froze again, and Dumbledore went down another step to turn around and smile up at Snape. "She's, undoubtedly, one of the people who are waiting for you. Despite your falling out later in life, you were still great friends, and she certainly still cared about you. If you remain on this earth to torment Voldemort, not only will you live a tortured existence, it will be an empty one. Can you really live with never seeing Lily again for the rest of time?"

Snape seemed to turn this over in his mind for a moment before resuming walking down the stairs. The look on his face indicated resignation and a bit of trepidation; still, Dumbledore gently took Snape's elbow and guided him into the room where Voldemort had had Nagini kill Snape.

"But," Snape said slowly, "once the other half of my soul is purged…I would be able to see her again, no?" he asked. "That would be my true death, and I could go back?"

"I suppose," Dumbledore said amiably, "but it would certainly be better for you if you just stayed here, and had a peaceful end."

"Peaceful?"

Snape's tone was mocking; he didn't say anything else for another moment, but he didn't look like he wanted to, either. "You call my end peaceful?" he said incredulously, staring at Dumbledore like the man had just grown another head. "You call that disgusting end peaceful? You think I can move on after dying that way?"

"You're here," Dumbledore said, still in that overly quiet, calm, collected manner he had been using the entire time. Snape merely snickered, and turned away. Just looking at Dumbledore was proving infuriating. The Potions master slowly walked into the room they had just encountered after descending the entire set of steps, looking around slowly and drinking in the entire scene. Snape just stood in the center of the room for a moment, right in the midst of the stain on the floor where his own blood had fallen. Dumbledore waited patiently in the doorway, watching Snape with an expression akin to calm indifference mixed with sympathy. Snape remained where he was for several long minutes: then, he turned back to Dumbledore and said,

"I am going back."

Dumbledore gave Snape a sad, but accepting smile, and gestured to the front door they were barely ten feet away from. "There lies your choice, then, Severus," he said, standing aside and smiling at Snape. "When I am finished with this place and you have left the world a second time, I will join you there, in the light. Will I see you waiting for me, Severus? Will you, after your second death, move on and rest in peace?"

Snape hesitated, his hand on the doorknob, as if afraid opening it would unleash Pandora's Box. "I will," he said, and finally exited the Shrieking Shack forever.