"Miss Black," the icy voice greeted Bellatrix, but she couldn't see who spoke. They were alone in a room; He was sitting on a huge green armchair, facing the fireplace across from the door in front of which the witch stood.
"My Lord," she said, bowing and feeling foolish since he could not see her.
"What have you come here for, Miss Black?" he asked, still not facing her.
"To become a Death Eater, My Lord," she answered, puzzled.
"Are you aware of what being a Death Eater entails?"
"I am. I wish to become your servant in the fight for pureblood supremacy."
"How do you intend to ensure pureblood supremacy?"
"By means of force," she said, recalling the first time she had spoken to Rodolphus.
"You seem sure of yourself, Miss Black," he said, rising from the armchair and revealing to Bellatrix the pale back of his bald head. He turned slowly, a small smile on his lipless cruel mouth. "Once Marked, there is no turning back."
Bellatrix gasped at the sight of the man. The others had told her he looked unnatural, but she wasn't quite ready for how disfigured his features were.
"Do you regret yourself already, Miss Black?" he asked. "There are prices to be paid for power; I was willing to pay them."
"Forgive me, My Lord, I meant no disrespect. Your face inspires awe; I have never met such power as yours."
"You know it is no use lying to me; I am a Legilimens."
"I am not lying."
Voldemort looked the witch over carefully, his red eyes narrowed.
At his pause, Bellatrix's eyes heated over and her voice became urgent with desire, "Mark me, My Lord."
Bellatrix was not lying about her beliefs, and Rodolphus had described her as an extremely capable witch. She seemed like a valuable ally, and he was sure he would not regret enlisting her as a Death Eater.
"Roll up your sleeve, Miss Black," he ordered, walking towards her and drawing his wand.
Bellatrix extended her left arm and rolled up the sleeve of her robe. Her heart pumped as the man walked towards her. He was so pale and smooth he looked like a marble statue of some obscure ancient god.
He instructed her to hold her wand against her left biceps with her right hand, and he in turn took hold of her right arm. He placed the tip of his wand on her left forearm and looked at her.
Bellatrix looked into his red eyes and could feel nothing but the icy touch of his thin fingers on her arm. She closed her eyes for a second, reveling in his light touch and listening to his voice murmuring incantations.
"Morsmordre Derma," he spoke, ending the long string of incantations.
Pain burned suddenly in Bellatrix's forearm, and her eyes flew open, resting on his red ones once more. The persistent pain was making heat waves flow through her body, and his cold fingers felt more than ever welcome against her burning skin.
Voldemort's eyes were locked on hers too, and he seemed to be enjoying her pain and the sound of her heaving breaths; his lips were almost sketched into a smile and his red eyes glowed.
Bellatrix felt her knees give way under the unending pain in her forearm and her hairline was wet with sweat. She buckled and slipped onto her knees, white spots blurring her vision of Voldemort, who still held her arm but remained standing.
"My Lord," she whispered, and her words were followed by a gasp as the pain suddenly ceased along with his hold on her, making her slump onto the floor, her body bent over her knees.
"My Lord," she repeated, feeling a lingering ache across her body and allowing her heavy eyes to close. "Thank you," she murmured, barely audibly, and slipped into unconsciousness right before Voldemort left her lying alone in the fire lit room.
Only when the morning sunlight streamed into the room did Bellatrix wake up from her dreamless, exhausted sleep. Her body throbbed from the pain it had been submitted to the night before and from the time spent on the hard wooden floor.
Her black eyes squinted around the room, but it was completely empty. She twisted herself into a more comfortable position, sitting cross-legged on the floor facing the open doorway.
She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, like she always did when she woke up. When she lowered her arms and opened her eyes, she caught a glimpse of her left forearm. On it was the drawing of a skull and a snake in what looked like dark black ink.
Touching the Mark lightly, she noticed that the skin under it was colder than the skin around it, and her fingers tingled softly with the magic which was now imbued in her body.
Bellatrix tried her legs and found that she could walk in spite of the ache in her muscles. She felt around her body for bruises, and, in finding none, noticed that she hadn't her wand with her.
She spotted he wand by her feet, and just as she bent down to grab it, she heard a high voice issuing from the doorway.
"Howard, you come here this instant!"
A woman in fancy Muggle clothes stood in the doorway with the deadliest non-magical look on her face. She had her hands on her hips and scowled at Bellatrix when the witch looked up at her, bent halfway to reach for her wand.
"Seems as if Howard forgot to dismiss you last night, huh?"
Bellatrix grabbed her wand and straightened up at the same time a man appeared behind the woman in the doorway.
"What is it, honey?" he asked.
The woman walked into the room and pulled Bellatrix's hair in a flash of movement, "I'll tell you what it is, Howard: it's another one of your sluts!"
"Slut?" Bellatrix shrieked, "Incarcerous!"
The blonde woman flew back, bound in ropes and calling her husband's name repeatedly.
"Do something, Howard!" she screamed, expecting him to handle the situation neatly, which would be pretty much impossible.
"Yes, Howard, do something," Bellatrix said, but before he could move his bulky body any which way or close his gaping mouth, she pointed her wand at him, "Aresto Momentum."
The man tried to turn around, but his movements were stupidly slow, and his wife's screaming went on ceaselessly.
"Aren't you going to help your darling wife, Howard?" Bellatrix asked. "Look, she's dying to speak to you." She aimed her wand at the woman's head, "Incendio!"
Flames erupted around the blonde Muggle, and her yellow hair gave way to red flames. The fire crackled loudly while Bellatrix doubled over in laughter, relishing the squirming woman's screams.
"Howard!" the burning woman shrieked. "Come back, you fat pig!"
Howard's eyes widened and his arms moved slowly up, as he tried to flail his arms in panic.
"Well, that's not very polite!" Bellatrix scowled at the woman. "Howard, if you could move, would you help the screaming bitch?"
Howard stopped trying to move altogether, and his eyes seemed to shift frantically around the room, still neglecting his wife's order to do something.
"I didn't think so," the witch said. She narrowed her eyes in concentration and aimed her wand at the fat pig, the shrieking bitch's husband, the filthy Muggle, "Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light erupted from her wand, and the immobile man stiffened completely for millisecond, before collapsing lifelessly to the floor.
"Yes," Bellatrix exclaimed, licking her lips leisurely, before snapping her head back to the flaming woman. "As for you," she aimed her wand at the woman's clothes, "Incendio!"
The whole woman was now a ball of flames, and, though she was no longer held back by ropes, she could do nothing but scream and squirm on the floor, her head completely consumed in flames.
Bellatrix looked at the woman on the floor, who no longer shouted her husband's name, but a series of unintelligible sounds; she smiled easily, "Your voice sounds lovely when you're not swearing at me."
The witch sat on the green armchair, trailing her fingers on her recently acquired Dark Mark, and looked on as the Muggle tried to flop nearer to the door. She raised her wand once more, but didn't aim it at the woman. "Incendio," she said, lighting the fireplace, "Great way to set the mood, don't you think?"
Laughing, Bellatrix stood up and, with utmost deliberation, Disapparated from the house.