You all might not like the beginning of this chapter, but I think you'll like the ending.


Lord Voldemort had no reason to follow Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange inside the Black Manor, upstairs to the third floor where the wife lay her injured husband on the twin-size bed of her childhood bedroom. He had no reason eavesdrop on the married couple.

But he did.

In the dark hallway, stood at the locked door and listened to their voices.

"Just lay down. I'll heal you—"

Bellatrix's voice.

"Let me do it, Bella. You've never been good at healing spells."

Rodolphus Lestrange's voice. He grunted in discomfort, the pain from the curse still lingering.

"Fine."

"This is all your fault, you know."

The hum of a healing spell gliding over an injured, uncomfortable body. A sigh of relief.

"My fault? You agreed to duel the Dark Lord. Surely you knew the risks."

"You've known this man for all of two days and he's your 'lord' now? Bella, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that this is our chance to re-establish Pureblood Superiority, that's what I'm thinking, Rod. Don't tell me you don't believe in that anymore—"

"I do, I do, but—"

"But what?"

"…I'm afraid, Bella. Not just of the Ministry finding out, or a war starting. But of him. Of 'Lord Voldemort'. If he doesn't get us all killed with his mad plans, then he might just kill us himself."

"He would never!"

"You saw what he did to his 'friend' today. He hexed him just for calling him by the wrong name. You saw what he did to me, Bella. He was using the cruciatus curse—for what? A simple duel? He had already won but he kept attacking."

"You're the one who asked him to prove himself."

"He's dangerous. Why do you trust him? Why do you worship him?"

Bellatrix was cackling now. Like high-pitched thunder.

"So that's what this is about Roddy. You're jealous—"

"No, I just—"

"Yes you are! You're jealous! You wish I followed you like I do him. You wish I called you 'my lord'. Well, guess what, Rodolphus? I will never follow you and you will never be my lord—"

"But you're still my wife!"

The sound of some kind of spell whizzed. Some object in the room smashed.

Was this a typical fight between the couple? Voldemort imagined that fights must have gotten violent between the Lestranges since Bellatrix was involved.

Bellatrix was laughing again, now, but it was different this time. Softer, almost sad. A strange sound from someone like her.

"Oh, Rod, when did having me as your wife mean anything to you? This was always a marriage of tradition rather than love. For both of us."

"When did any man mean anything to you, Bella? I've never seen you look at anyone that way before."

"I've never been so impressed with anyone before. He's the most brilliant wizard I've ever met."

"You're sleeping with him."

"I'm really not. Honestly. There have been other men, you know that, but not him. And why do you care either way? It's not like you've been lonely. You think I don't know about your mistress in Paris? She's pregnant, now isn't she, Rod?"

"How did you—nevermind. Yes she is pregnant. I'm finally going to be a father. You never wanted to have any children. I have to carry on my family line somehow—"

"She doesn't have your name and neither will your child. Only I have that 'privilege' as your wife."

"Really? But isn't your 'lord' the heir of Slytherin through his mother's line?"

"…yes. He is."

"So the Lestrange line will continue, too. Besides, even if she hadn't gotten pregnant, I'm sure my brother has some French bastards running around somewhere."

For a third time, Bellatrix laughed. And this time it sounded genuine. That truly surprised Voldemort.

"I'm happy for you, Rod. I'm glad your mistress satisfied your need for an heir. But tell me, does she satisfy all your needs? Truly?"

"Well, she's more the…mothering type than you are, Bella. She should be the wife and you the mistress."

Bellatrix snorted.

"We both know you're the 'wife', Rod. Now are you feeling up to satisfying your 'husband', or are you still weak from losing the fight?"

"Actually, I think I feel better now..."

The next noise was Bellatrix climbing onto the bed where her husband lay.

Upon hearing this, Voldemort quickly walked away from the locked door. There were somethings he did not want to overhear.


The Rosiers and Averys were gone from the sittingroom, returned to their respective homes, as was Kreacher from the diningroom, returned to his post at Grimmauld Place serving the other Blacks. Now, it was Cygnus and Druella Black, eating a late lunch at the long table (which Druella had burned), and Lord Voldemort and his drunk friend Dolohov (no longer drunk or hungover) having a conversation in the sittingroom, its black curtains drawn shut making it dark.

Bella chose the sittingroom upon arriving downstairs. She was still in her nightgown as she had been almost all day, and now looked even more disheveled as she had just gotten out of bed for a second time.

The Dark Lord Voldemort and Dolohov turned to look at her as she entered the dimly-lit room of dreary wallpaper and dark-colored furniture. Lord Voldemort was seated in her father's armchair, Dolohov on the couch.

"My lord." Bella greeted the former, ignoring the latter.

Dolohov raised an eyebrow. "You never even have to try with women and they talk to you like that."

Lord Voldemort turned his red eyes towards the man. "You have to call me that, too, now."

"Excuse me?" Dolohov blinked, taken aback. "That's a little…" he paused, furrowing his brow as he searched for the right word in English. He could not think of one, though there were several in Russian that came to mind.

Voldemort rolled his red eyes. "Your mind is a sewer, Dolohov, just like Bellatrix's. Which reminds me," he turned to look at the witch, "It's been two hours, Bellatrix. We're supposed to be continuing your training. What could have possibly been more important?"

"I was tending to my husband, my lord." Bella stated, matter-of-factly. She knew he already knew exactly where she had been and what she had been doing. She hoped he was jealous.

Dolohov chuckled at that explanation from where he reclined on the couch.

He was eying Bella intently, but she would not even glance at him. He was not from any of the English pureblood families. His name and his accent were foreign, he might as well have been a mudblood, for all she knew and cared.

"Where is your husband now?" Voldemort asked from the armchair.

"Resting." Bella said, "He's tired from his duel with you, my lord."

"I'm sure that's not the only reason." Dolohov muttered, wryly.

Finally Bella noticed him. But only to briefly glare in his direction.

Lord Voldemort did the same. Then looked back at Bella, red eyes into dark eyes.

"It seems your husband has been a distraction for you ever since he returned." he noted, "Is this going to become a reoccurring problem, Bellatrix?"

"No, my lord." Bella shook her head of messy, long dark hair. She was trying not to smile. So he was jealous. Probably.

"When's it my turn to be a 'distraction', krasivaya?" Dolohov asked, "Tye Nott told me about you—"

"Enough, Dolohov." Voldemort silenced, aiming his wand and a warning look at the Russian man.

Bella grinned. Her lord was defending her honor!

Then, the Dark Lord turned to her. "Bellatrix, it's one thing if you get around, it's another if word does. Like I told you before, stop doing things that embarrass yourself—and me, by extension."

"But Nott was years ago, you saw—" Bella tried.

"Get your husband up." Lord Voldemort interrupted to order, "I want him to take us to visit his father in France."

Bella nodded, "Yes, my lord."

"France?" Dolohov repeated eagerly, "French girls are beautiful."

"You're not going, Antonin." Voldemort said, turning to the man on the couch, "I want you to visit Tye Nott and Myrdin Mulciber, too, and see if they'll join me."

Antonin Dolohov nodded from where he sat on the couch. Bella learned his first name for the first time. He was 'Dolohov' when Lord Voldemort was angry at him, 'Antonin' when Lord Voldemort was not, it seemed.

Dolohov hopped up from the couch, pulling his wand out from last night's ruffled dressrobes.

"Alright." He agreed, "I wouldn't mind seeing Tye's wife again. She's nice to look at. Myrdin's wife…well, he's had low standards since Hogwarts."

He flicked his wand and disapparated out of the dimly-lit sittingroom. Bella and Lord Voldemort watched him disappear, then Bella turned back to the spiral staircase.


Bellatrix Lestrange wore a green dress, the family color of the Lestranges—and of the Slytherins. She had also cast a charm to untangle her long black locks and applied her usual lipstick. She had to look presentable if she was visiting her in-laws, after all.

Her husband Rodolphus, and even the Dark Lord Voldemort himself, thought she looked stunning—though only the former said so out loud. Rodolphus' clothing and general appearance had improved from the earlier duel aftermath. He no longer seemed to be in residual pain—though every once in a while he would glare at Voldemort.

Now, the three stood in the darkened library, between the ceiling-high shelves of books, in front of the unlit fireplace.

"Do you have the floo powder, Rod?" Bellatrix asked her husband.

They could not apparate between different countries. Even the floo network was difficult internationally; they would have to stop at the International Floo Network headquarters, and then take a separate fireplace from there to their destination in France.

Rodolphus nodded, pulling the small pouch of the stuff out of his robe pocket. He turned to her, and then to Voldemort. "Who's first?"

"I'll go—" Bellatrix began, but was interrupted.

A flash of green fire erupted in the fireplace. Rabastan Lestrange, lugging two large suitcases, emerged from the flames.

His green eyes blinked, adjusting to the dark, and then blinked again in surprise at seeing three people standing in front of him. He looked at his older brother. "I got the suitcases, Rod."

"We're going back to France." Rodolphus informed him, "Turn around."

"Again?!" Rabastan groaned, letting go of the suitcases to throw his hands up towards the library ceiling. "But I just got here!"

"Go." Rodolphus ordered.

Sighing, Bas picked up the suitcases again, turned around and returned to the fireplace.


Deep in the dark tunnels of in the Paris Catacombs, the wall of skulls, cracked and fossilized, rumbled. Slowly, it split into two halves and slid apart.

It looked as if the Gates of Hell themselves had opened.

(But really, it was just the gates to L'Intersection, the French equivalent of Diagon Alley. It spanned for miles beneath the city of Paris, even lower underground than the muggle subway system.)

Rodolphus had been the one to wave his wand, opening them. He stepped aside, gesturing exaggeratedly to the doorway he had created, "Voilà."

Bellatrix Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange and Lord Voldemort stepped through the gates.

Inside L'Intersection was a grand hall with a curved, high ceiling, brightly lit like daylight though there was no sky. Shops, restaurants, pubs and inns lined the two secret tunnel walls, punctuated by more skulls. Crowds, their steady hum in French, flitted back and forth across the stone streets.

The Dark Lord Voldemort gazed at the thriving commotion. He had never been here before.

But even Bellatrix, who had been here a few times since her marriage to Rodolphus Lestrange, was impressed by the sight before her. Her green dress stood out the crowd wearing chic French black robes.

It was Rodolphus that led the way. He strode directly into the bustling catacomb crowd. His wife, his brother, and the new Dark Lord followed, hurrying to keep up and weaving to avoid bumping into people.

Voldemort did not like following someone else. He knew he should be the one leading. He already did not like Rodolphus Lestrange, but unfortunately he was in the less powerful wizard's territory.

That was evident when several well-dressed wizards stopped to greet Rodolphus on the street…and several beautiful witches smiled at him as he passed, saying nothing since his wife was with him today.

They passed a loud tavern. Then, a wand shop. Then, a grocery store of exotic magical foods. There was an antique shop that Voldemort thought he might want to stop into later, if they had time.

Rodolphus turned a corner. The other three followed.


The corner led into another tunnel, devoid of shops but lined with more skulls.

The skulls' empty eyesockets stared at the wizards and witch as they walked. The wizards and witch stared back.

Bellatrix snickered, "The best use of muggles I've seen yet."

Voldemort smirked at that, just a little. They had the same sense of humor, it seemed.

Rodolphus rolled his green eyes. Rabastan was wheezing, lagging behind the other three, the suitcases heavy in his tired arms.

Rodolphus stopped and glanced back at him, "Hurry up, Bas."

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Bas called, stopping as well, letting go of the suitcases to place his hands on his thighs, leaning forward to rest.

Bellatrix and Voldemort were the last two to stop. They turned around, raising their eyebrows in confusion.

"Why doesn't he just use a spell?" Bellatrix wondered aloud. She waved her wand at the suitcases. They rose into the air…

…and then dropped.

Bellatrix furrowed her brow.

Rodolphus turned to her, "They're my father's. They would be weightless if he lifted them, with his hands or his wand. But to anyone else, they're heavy like stones. It's to stop thieves."

"Why'd you make him use those suitcases, then?" Bellatrix asked.

At that Rodolphus just chuckled, glancing back at his struggling little brother again.

Legilimencing into Rodolphus' mind, Voldemort saw the older brother was punishing the younger for sleeping with his wife since he was too afraid to punish the wife herself for initiating it. Apparently it had been more than just the one time at Hogwarts Bellatrix had shown him.

They continued down the tunnel of skulls.


The tunnel led to the wide open mouth of a cave. Its walls were rock and ore instead of stone and skull. The rock ceiling rattled above as an underground train passed over, freeing some tiny pebbles that fell like rain and dust that fell like mist.

Voldemort glared up when one struck his head.

Bellatrix held out both hands to catch some of the pebble dust like it was fresh falling snow.

Rodolphus and Rabastan ignored the rockfall, they were used to it. They continued forward (the latter much slower than the former, as he was dragging the suitcase) through the cave.


Finally, the four reached the end of the cave. Built into its rocky walls were rows of cages made of metal bars.

Inside the first was a dignified gray-feathered hippogriff. He was curled on the stone floor as if asleep, but watching the passersby with an intense gaze.

Inside the second were a collection of blue pixies. They buzzed about the cage, gripping the bars, and banging against the empty air when they tried to escape through the spaces.

And inside the third cage was unicorn, pale like the horse of Death, its horn like a sword ready to kill—and yet, the creature looked so innocent and pure, so much so that it seemed unaware that it was trapped in a cage.

Voldemort could not help but stare in fascination at the creatures.

"This is what your father sells?" he asked Rodolphus.

Rodolphus nodded, "This is just the display. Wait until you see inside."

His overt pride bothered Voldemort.

So what if Rodolphus and Reynard had a lot money and exotic magical creatures? They had not earned any of it themselves—none of the living members of the Old Families had.

Voldemort had been born with nothing—no money, no parents, not even pure blood—and yet he was more powerful than they were. For that reason alone he should have been the one to rule—even if it was not his birthright as Heir of Slytherin.

"It's illegal to sell unicorns." Voldemort stated.

"In England, yes." Rodolphus chuckled. "Not in France."

Rodolphus led the three others to the wooden doubledoors. They opened for him without him even having to wave his wand.

In the stone above them was carved the name Lestrange.


Beyond the wooden doubledoors was another store. It was dimly lit by a greenish glow and resembled a pet shop—just on a grander scale.

More metal cages protruded from the three of the four long walls making the room. Inside them were more hippogriffs, pixies and unicorns, along with imps, gnomes and even thestrals.

The skeletal and hairless creatures cried out a sad, longing sound from behind the metal bars of their cages. Two adults and a juvenile. The young one flapped its wings, though it had never flown. The adults given up on raising their wings years ago.

Bellatrix and Voldemort stopped to gaze at them in interest. Rodolphus and Rabastan stopped to gaze at them in confusion.

"It's just an empty cage…" Rabastan muttered, finally setting down the suitcases.

Voldemort chuckled at that.

"What are they?" Bellatrix wondered. She had not killed any human or seen anyone die until after she had graduated from Hogwarts.

"Thestrals." Rodolphus answered before Voldemort could. "I can't see them. Who have you killed, Bella?" he was only half joking. He knew his wife well.

Bellatrix eyed her husband, "You have to kill someone to see them?"

"You just have to have seen someone die." Voldemort answered before Rodolphus could.

"Muggles count?" Bellatrix checked.

Both Voldemort and Rodolphus nodded.

"I should've known what you were up to while I was gone." Rodolphus muttered. It did not seem to surprise or phase him that his wife was killing muggles.

In the center of the store was an expansive aquarium, reaching almost as tall as the ceiling and almost as long as the length of the room. Inside its waters swam grindylows, piranhas, and a lone mermaid.

Then, there was a dry tank. Curled inside it was a long, thick snake.

The snake noticed Voldemort before he noticed the snake. It hissed to him.

"Salazar's blood runs through your veins. Not purely—but it's there. Please, sir, you have to release me."

He stopped, turning and replying to it in parseltongue. "Why?

"It is your duty as a descendent of Slytherin. My ancestors once helped him now you must help me."

Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan all gaped. All they could hear were strange hissing sounds.

"Did you just…talk to that snake?" Rabastan checked, pointing at the curled reptile in the tank but furrowing his forehead at Voldemort.

"Parseltongue…" Rodolphus identified.

"My lord, you truly are the heir of Slytherin!" Bellatrix exclaimed enthusiastically.

"What did it say?" Rabastan asked him, "The snake?"

"She asked me to free her." Voldemort said, raising his wand.

"Well, 'she' is for sale if you want to buy 'her'." Rodolphus shrugged.

"Really?" Voldemort replied, "I thought you would give the snake to me as a gift." He turned to Bellatrix, "Right, Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix nodded at him, then turned to her husband, "Give it to him."

"I'll have to ask my father first…" Rodolphus grumbled. "We're here to talk to him, aren't we? Not to the animals the animals." He shot a disdainful glance at Voldemort out of the corner of one green eye.

Then, he started striding again. Rabastan and Bellatrix followed. Voldemort said one more thing to the snake, then followed as well.

The four walked all the way to the fourth wall of the store, which instead of cages, continued the front cashier's desk.

A red-haired young woman sat behind the wooden desk on a stool. She looked up from the magazine in her hands when she heard footsteps on the stone floor.

"You're back again, Rod, Rabastan?" she said in a French accent, blue eyes blinking in surprise.

Rodolphus laughed, "Looks like it, Elise."

The red-haired woman, Elise, turned to Bellatrix in even greater surprise, "Oh, and your wife's here, too."

"Hello, Miss Scabior." Bellatrix greeted.

Their voices were cold and their body language tense. Voldemort did not need to look into their minds to understand the situation. The red-haired woman, Elise Scabior, must have been the mistress Bellatrix and Rodolphus had mentioned during their earlier argument.

Elise was looking at him now. "Who is your new guest?"

"He's here to see my father." Rodolphus told her.

Elise nodded. "You can go in now, but you may have to wait."

She stood up from the stool. Now, the front desk no longer obscured the lower half of her body. Beneath her baggy robes her stomach ballooned. She was pregnant.

Behind the front desk and the woman in the stool was another door. Elise walked waddled over to it and opened it.

Rodolphus, Rabastan, Bellatrix and Voldemort walked around the cashier's desk, and through the door.


Voldemort had expected an office behind the door. Instead it was an auction hall with stalactites hanging from its rock ceiling.

From rows of chairs wizards and witches held up their hands, shouting out their bids. From the stage in the front a man in green dressrobes called out quickly and loudly in French.

Reynard Lestrange.

Behind him on the stage stood House Elves, chained to each other, beneath the bright stagelights. They not dressed in rags but instead naked so that they were on full display for the prospective buyers.

Under the bright stagelights, Reynard soon noticed his sons, his daughter-in-law and a man that looked somewhat familiar in the back row. He paused mid-sentence telling his customers in French, "We're going to take a quick break and resume the bidding in an hour."

Some French grumbling from the crowd in the rows of seats. Their hands dropped and so did the volume of their voices.

Leaving the naked House Elves chained behind him, Reynard hopped off the stage. He jogged through the aisle between the rows of wizards and witches watching him, all the way to the back of the hall where Rabastan, Rodolphus, Bellatrix and the familiar-looking man stood.

"Father." Rodolphus greeted.

"My sons." Reynard smiled at Rodolphus and Rabastan. They looked just like him, brown hair and green eyes. "Back already? And you've brought company. Hello Bellatrix."

"Hello, Mr. Lestrange." Bella greeted politely.

Reynard then turned to the third, familiar-looking man. "Excuse me, sir, I know you, don't I? I just can't remember your name. I think it was Tim or Tom—"

"Don't say it." Rodolphus warned, "He hexed the last person who called him by that name."

Reynard's green eyes widened in mild surprise. Then he laughed, "Oh, then he's most definitely who I think he is." He turned to the man he now was certain was Tom Riddle, "How have you been, uh, what should I call you?"

Voldemort opened his mouth to answer but Bellatrix was faster.

"He is the Dark Lord Voldemort!" she declared.

Voldemort glared at her, "We don't need to tell him in front of all these people." He motioned to the crowd of bidders in rows of chairs, conversing amongst themselves.

Reynard waved his hand dismissively, "Most of them don't speak English, anyway, and the ones that do would have no qualms with another 'Dark Lord'—which begs the question, since when were you a 'Dark Lord'?"

"I can tell you everything, Mr. Lestrange." Bellatrix declared, eager to be the prophet for a third time.

"But you won't, Bellatrix." Voldemort quickly prevented, "You took too long telling your husband. I will tell Reynard Lestrange."

"Alright." Reynard accepted, "Tell me."


All the books in Reynard Lestrange's office were filled with financial records instead of text. The ones from previous years—centuries, even—were stocked in the bookshelves.

The one from this year, 1977, was open on Reynard's otherwise uncluttered desk. It had far more black than red ink.

Reynard closed it anyway before moving to sit behind his desk, facing the man who called himself the Dark Lord. The other three had been instructed to wait outside.

There was some cracking. The men turned to look at the small wooden table on the other side of the desk from the bookshelf.

On top of its surface sat an incubator, bright and warm. Inside it was a slowly cracking egg.

"You sell dragons, too?" Voldemort asked.

Reynard nodded, "Do you want one?"

Voldemort shook his dark-haired head. "No. But I want the snake. Your son said I could have it for free."

Reynard chuckled, "Did he? How generous of him. The truth is I've been trying to get rid of it since the Indian merchant traded it to me. It just keeps getting bigger and the amount of live rats it eats a day is getting expensive—"

"She." Voldemort corrected, "The snake is a 'she'."

"She." Reynard accepted, "Well, she doesn't eat like a normal reptile. She eats like a warm-blooded creature, twice daily. Are you prepared to feed it enough? If you don't she will eat you."

"I can make sure she doesn't eat me." Voldemort assured.

"Then it—she—is yours." Reynard gifted, then changed the subject, "So what did you really come here to talk about?"

"Abraxas Malfoy." Voldemort stated, "He told me and the rest of the Purebloods in England that he supports me as the Dark Lord. But…"

"You don't trust him?" Reynard guessed, raising a brown eyebrow.

"No, I don't." Voldemort affirmed.

"Neither do I." Reynard sympathized, "His family has been the richest for centuries, but now I have more money than he does and he knows that. When I moved my business to France, I took all of my money out of Gringotts because the Malfoys have too much power there. The goblins are under Abraxas' control."

The Goblins were under the control of Abraxas Malfoy? That explained why they did not join Voldemort that night in the forest when the Werewolves, Vampires, Giants and Acromantulas did.

"You know him better than I do." Voldemort stated, "I'd like you to talk to him for me, figure out if he's truly loyal."

Reynard grimaced.

"Abraxas and I are not exactly on 'talking' terms anymore." He said, "We haven't been since I left England. You've been gone so long, and so far away, so I understand why you weren't aware. And I'm sorry if you came all this way just to ask me to talk to Abraxas for you because I can't."

Now, it was Voldemort who grimaced. The news surprised him. During their Hogwarts years, Abraxas and Reynard had been best friends.

"Who would Abraxas talk to?" Voldemort wondered aloud.

Reynard shrugged. "I'm not sure. He tells all the English purebloods what to do, but he doesn't tell them why. His son, Lucius, might be the only one he's honest with, and even then I doubt he tells him everything."

Voldemort nodded. "Abraxas' son Lucius…hmm, I'll see what Bellatrix can find out."

Reynard raised a brown eyebrow.

"Lucius' wife is her sister." Voldemort clarified. "I meant that she could speak with her about what he knows."

"Ah." Reynard understood. "So what exactly is the plan that you want Abraxas to support?"

"Without going into detail, I plan to overthrow the Ministry of Magic and establish a new government that eventually will rule not only the Wizarding World, but the Muggle one as well." Voldemort informed.

Reynard's green eyes widened. "…you can't be serious."

"I know it sounds overly ambitious, but it's been done before." Voldemort replied.

"By Gellert Grindelwald." Reynard recalled, "And how did that work out for him?"

"I won't make the same mistakes he did." Voldemort dismissed, "He claimed he wanted to make the muggles his slaves, yet ended up allying with their armies during the war."

"The Axis Powers." Reynard named, "Grindelwald needed the numbers. If you don't use muggles, what will you do? There are fewer wizards than muggles, even fewer purebloods."

"I have other support." Voldemort shrugged ambiguously. He did not need to mention the inferi, or the Werewolves, Vampires, Giants, and Acromantulas. Not until he knew he could trust Reynard. "But the question is now, are you among it?"

"I live in France." Reynard said, "I can't get involved with British politics. My sons, however, I'm sure would be happy to help you, as would my daughter-in-law—which she probably already made clear."

"She did." Voldemort confirmed, "But your older son, Rodolphus, does not seem to like me."

Reynard laughed at that, "He doesn't like any man that gets too close to his wife—which is almost every man. But he'll do what his wife tells him to—and what I tell him to. So will Rabastan."

"Good." Voldemort accepted, "But neither you nor your son should worry. There is nothing between Bellatrix and me."

"Of course not." Reynard chuckled.

It was obvious he did not believe it. He knew his daughter-in-law well enough by now. Perhaps he was even another one of her father's friends she had slept with.

But as long as Reynard Lestrange and his sons supported Voldemort, it did not matter…and he might as well have been sleeping with Bellatrix, anyway, since both father and son were convinced he was.


It was nearly dark by the time Bella, Rod, Bas, and the Dark Lord Voldemort returned to the Black Manor—which meant the old house was even darker than it had been all day. They stepped one at a time out of the fireplace in the dim library.

Bella exited first, waiting in the dark beside the wall-sized shelf of books for the three others. Lord Voldemort was second, then Rod, then Bas.

Bas was lugging those spell-heavy suitcases again. As soon as he had emerged from the green flames he dropped them with a thud and a sigh of relief onto the hardwood floors.

Rod turned around to look at him, "You were supposed to take those to the London house."

Bas blinked his green eyes in surprise, "Why?"

Rod groaned. "Because there isn't enough room for us here."

The manor was three stories high and many rooms full. Of course there was room. Rod just though the old place was creepy, Bella knew that.

Lord Voldemort turned around to look at Rod. "Rodolphus, did you bring the snake?"

Rod glanced back at Lord Voldemort, then turned to Bas "Bas, Did you bring the snake?"

"No!" Bas exclaimed in frustration, "I brought the suitcases! I thought you were bringing the snake!"

"Go get it." Rod ordered.

"But…" Bas attempted, sighing and giving up his protest before finishing. He slouched and trudged back into the fireplace.

When he had disappeared in a puff of green smoke, Rod waved his wand at the suitcases. Somehow, he was now able to pick them up with ease.

"I'm taking these to the London house, Bella." Rod informed his wife, "I'll be back for you soon."

And with that, Rod stepped into the fireplace and now he disappeared in a puff of green smoke. Bella and the Dark Lord Voldemort watched him go.


The small suitcase lay open on Bella's small childhood bed. Her mother had attempted to change the sheets for her while she was gone, but had not managed to get the bottom sheet over the twin-size mattress. She really was useless without her House Elves…

The few articles of clothing Bella had brought to the Black Manor from her the Lestrange's London house flew from the open drawers of the dresser into the open suitcase as directed by her wand. A dress, some robes, ooh some lacy underwear she had not had the occasion to wear in a while.

Bella watched idly from where she sat on the windowsill, the view of the almost-set sun behind her in the violet sky.

She left the door to her dimly-lit bedroom open. She hoped that her lord would come to say something to her before she left—maybe even ask her to stay—but he had not yet.

The Dark Lord Voldemort was the most confusing and interesting man she had ever met. She had not had a crush like this since Hogwarts, and even then, no one had fascinated her like this before. All the other boys and men in her life seemed weak and worthless in comparison.

Voices downstairs.

"Would you like to join us for dinner, Tom?"

The voice of Cygnus Black, Bella's father. She expected to hear him cry out in pain next, as he had used the name that the great Dark Lord Voldemort hexed people over.

Instead, all she heard was "No, thank you." Lord Voldemort's voice. He had spared her father. So merciful.

There was a faint smell of burning. Her mother Druella must have been trying to cook again.

"Bella! Dinner's ready!"

Her mother's shrill voice shouted up from the bottom floor to the top. Bella groaned at is sound.

"I'm not hungry, mother!" she shouted back down. That was a lie. She had not eaten since her late breakfast, but she was sick of her mother's cooking.

Now Bella could hear footsteps climbing the spiral stairs. It better not be her parents…

Oh. Bella blinked her dark eyes in surprise. The Dark Lord stood in her open doorway. Finally.

"My lord." Bella said.

She stepped down from the windowsill and started across the wooden floor towards him. The clothing arched above her on its way through the air from the drawers to the suitcase.

Lord Voldemort's red eyes glanced at the flying clothes, all black like the suitcase and the blankets it sat on. The movement was clearly annoying him as he flicked his wand and the clothes fell, some into the suitcase, some onto the bed, and some onto the floorboards.

"Why are you leaving?" he asked, "You have to continue your training."

Was he asking her not to leave? Bella hoped so. But his pale face and tone of voice was devoid of subtext and so hers had to be as well.

"I will." Bella promised, "I'll be back tomorrow. And the day after that. And all the days after that until it's time to put what I learn into action."

"It's more convenient if you stay here." Voldemort reasoned.

Oh, so he was asking her to stay. Bella smirked.

"But my lord, the bed is too small to fit both my husband and I." She gestured at the twin-sized mattress against the wall across from the dresser.

"I didn't say I wanted him to stay here." Voldemort replied.

Bella's smile grew. She was glad she did not remove her lipstick.

"So I'm the one you want then?" Bella twisted the words like the strand of her hair she twisted around her wand.

Oops. It was stuck.

She let the wand hang from her long hair, not trying to free it from her tresses, and still smiling.

Lord Voldemort reached forward. Bella had stood close enough to him that he could pull the wand from her hair, which is what she wanted him to do. He did and then handed it to her.

She was looking up at him, into his red eyes with her dark ones, eagerly. Her plan was working. All she had to do was wait and he would lean down and—

"I know what you're thinking, Bellatrix." Voldemort stated, "Your husband hasn't been gone half an hour and you want me to kiss you."

Bella shrugged, "In my defense, I wanted you to kiss me when he was here, too."

The Dark Lord probably knew that, too, though. He must have been reading her mind. (Or maybe her actions were so transparent they made her motives obvious? Bella did not care either way, as long as she got what she wanted.)

She really wished she could see into his mind now, more than just what he was willing to show her during the lesson. Then she would know whether she was intriguing him or disgusting him. Whether she should give up her attempts or continue them.

"You wouldn't care if he knew?" Voldemort checked.

"I was never faithful to him and I was never discrete about that." Bella said, without answering the question. She could tell that Lord Voldemort already knew it would upset Rod to see her with another man—even if he had another woman himself.

"But you rushed to his side after I defeated him, and into bed with him after that." Voldemort reminded.

Was that the tiniest hint of jealousy on the Dark Lord's face? Or was that just wishful thinking in Bella's mind? She could not tell. The man was inhumanly inexpressive.

"He's my husband." Bella responded, matter-of-factly, "It's my duty."

"From now on your duty is to me." Lord Voldemort declared, "And only to me."

And before Bella's red lips could smile again he kissed her. He finally kissed her. She would have squealed in delight had her mouth not been busy.

She leaned upwards towards his face, probably giving him more passion than he had wanted. He almost tripped backwards with her force, startled by it.

But Lord Voldemort did not push Bella off of him.

If there was one thing she knew about men it was that once they had gotten started they would rarely ever stop. This might have been her only chance with the Dark Lord, Bella knew, and she was not going to waste it.

And speaking of 'waste', Bella felt Voldemort put his hands around her waist as she tried to steer him towards the bed—hard to do with their eyes closed. Were his eyes closed, too?

Bella peeked her dark eyes open. She found herself staring into red ones. Awkward. She had not had a moment like that since she was a teenager. Lord Voldemort was as old as her parents. He should have learned by now to close his eyes while kissing.

It occurred to Bella then that maybe he was not like the other men she knew. He was not married at his age. Maybe he had been so focused on learning the Dark Arts there had been few to no women in his life.

And if that were the case, then that meant Bella was special. She smiled into the kiss and closed her eyes again…

"Bellatrix!"

Bella's dark eyes popped open. So did Lord Voldemort's red ones. The whipped apart and towards the bedroom doorway. They had left it open. Rodolphus Lestrange stood in it.

He shook his head of brown hair bitterly. "I knew it, I knew the moment I saw you two together in your sister's room. But what I just don't understand is why you lied about it, Bella?"

"Rod—" Bella tried, pale skin pinking.

"You always tell me about the other men, Bella." Rod interrupted to continue, "But you denied this one. And I know why. He's actually important to you."

He turned his green glare towards Lord Voldemort. Then he turned his wand towards him, too.

Lord Voldemort scoffed. "Do you really want to challenge me again?"

Rod gritted his teeth but lowered his wand. Without saying anything else, he turned and exited the doorway.

Bella started after him but felt a thin hand grab her thin arm. She stopped, looking back at the Dark Lord.

"You did this on purpose." She realized, "You wanted him to see us."

Voldemort released her arm and smirked. "He won't be a distraction for you anymore."

He had been playing her, Bella knew now. It did not anger her. In fact, it made her want him more.

"Then I guess you'll have to be, my lord." She said, already leaning up to kiss him again.


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