Dear Mr Lestrange,
Bellatrix stared at the parchment and pinched her lips. She had no idea what to write. Should she tell Rodolphus that she was being aggressively courted by Tom Riddle? Probably not. Bellatrix put her quill to the parchment again and wrote,
I am glad to hear the weather in St Petersburg is pleasant enough this time of year and hope that you are well there. I also hope that you bear a liking for beetroot and fish eggs, given the Russians' proclivity for eating them. I wish you every success in your diplomatic endeavours. Be happy and healthy, and I shall see you again soon.
Very sincerely,
Bellatrix Black
She sighed and folded the parchment once the ink dried. She sealed it up with wax and punched a hole in the corner. She was tying it to the owl's leg with ribbon when she heard footsteps clacking on the wooden floor behind her. She recognised the cadence and weight of the steps as her mother's, and Bellatrix called,
"One moment, Mother. Just sending this letter off. Owl - find Rodolphus Lestrange in St Petersburg, Russia."
The owl soared out through the window of the study, and Bellatrix turned around to see her mother with a strange look on her face. Druella knitted her hands together and beckoned to the two elegant chairs facing one another before the dormant fireplace. Bellatrix followed her over to the chairs, feeling apprehensive, and sat down. Druella perched herself opposite Bellatrix and said quietly,
"I thought it was time to have this chat, mother and daughter. You are well into the process of being courted; it is only reasonable that you know what to expect about the bit that comes next."
Bellatrix blinked. She shrugged a little and said, "I get married and move away with my husband, don't I?"
"It's… Bellatrix, there are certain duties that are incumbent upon a wife," said Druella, "and I want you to understand what those duties are."
"Duties," Bellatrix repeated. "You mean like keeping the household, the way you -"
"No. Bellatrix." Druella huffed a sigh. She shut her eyes and said, "Fertility is one of the greatest gifts bestowed upon witches. Motherhood is the finest role for a witch to ever hold. But getting there takes… well, it is an act unto itself, you understand."
"No, Mother. I do not understand." Bellatrix felt numb. She studied her mother's pink cheeks and read embarrassment. Druella pursed her lips and cleared her throat, sitting up so straight that she looked like a doll. She finally said in a stiff voice,
"On your wedding night, you and your husband will lie together for the first time. You will give him pleasure, and that is the way he will one day - hopefully quickly - put a child in you. You will lie with him often. It is the duty of wives."
"Lie with him." Bellatrix frowned, imagining lying on a bed in her gown with Mr Riddle beside her in his velvet breeches and waistcoat. She couldn't imagine how that would possibly end in a child. Was there magic involved? She must have looked very confused, because Druella let out a long, low breath and said,
"He will put his manhood between your legs, inside of you, and move it about. He will find his pleasure that way, and that is the way children are planted in witches' wombs."
"Oh." Bellatrix gulped. His manhood? His… penis? He was to put it inside her body, between her legs? And then he would feel good, and that would make a baby grow inside of Bellatrix? She gnawed her lip and nodded. "All right."
"Do you understand?" Druella asked. "These are the things that will be expected of you as a wife, Bellatrix."
"I… understand," she lied. She looked down at her hands in her lap and considered that Mr Riddle was coming the next day for another luncheon on the lawn. Perhaps, she thought, he might clarify this matter beyond what her mother had said.
"I do so love Brie cheese," Bellatrix said as the food appeared on the table. She and Mr Riddle had just come out to the lawn, and now she spread a bit of cheese onto some toasted bread as Mr Riddle took some roasted pears. He smiled a little at her, glanced over his shoulder, and said quietly,
"Work on Castle Praelia is coming along nicely. I've finished the stone walls of the keep and the four towers. I'm rather exhausted from the construction work, if I'm honest. I could hardly Apparate here today."
"Oh. I'm so sorry to have brought you here after such hard work," Bellatrix breathed, but Tom Riddle said softly,
"I am quite pleased to be here. And Castle Praelia will be magnificent when I've finished it. I look forward to hosting a dinner there for all my old school friends, including Cygnus Black III. Then he will see what Tom Riddle has to offer."
Bellatrix grinned. She chewed a bite of bread and cheese, and then she set down her food and sipped from her lavender tea. She sighed and asked carefully,
"What can you tell me about the act that occurs between witches and wizards on their wedding night, and on nights thereafter, Mr Riddle? The act in which a wizard places himself between a witch's legs and finds his pleasure, and thus puts a child inside of her?"
She studied his face, read the shock in his expression, and watched as he set down his pear and picked up his cup of tea. He took a sip and cleared his throat roughly.
"That… is a very distant way of describing what happens," he said. Bellatrix frowned.
"It's how my mother told me about it."
He choked a little laugh. "Yes, that is how Druella would explain it to her daughter. Hmm. What can I tell you about it?"
He brushed his thumb over his lip and stared at Bellatrix. She found him supremely attractive, all of a sudden. Even with his face shaded by his brown tricorn hat, even as old as he was, he was devastatingly handsome. He said to Bellatrix,
"When it's done properly, it bears mentioning, both people 'find their pleasure.' No wizard worth his salt would let a witch go through that act unsatisfied, though it's true that a great many do. Now. It is much better done naked, and it ought to begin with lots of touching. Lots of kissing. Things that make your breath go quick and your heart speed up. It can be anything you want, so long as it feels good."
"Like when you kissed me in the corridor and you touched me a little?" Bellatrix asked. Mr Riddle quirked up half his mouth and lowered his eyes.
"That was nothing," he said. "It gets far better than that."
"You speak from experience," Bellatrix guessed, and Mr Riddle was quiet for a moment until he raised his eyes and said,
"I am an old man, Miss Black. You'll forgive my ill-gotten youth, I hope. As a married man, I would be unflinchingly faithful. Would you like to know more about the act?"
"Yes, please." Bellatrix's lips had gone dry. She stared into his dark gaze, and he leaned forward a little as he murmured,
"You, the witch, may lie on your back. Or you might be atop the wizard. Or he may be behind you. There are so many options, and all of them should be utilised at some point. Anyway, once the wizard's member has gone hard with want, he can put it between your legs and thrust it back and forth. When done properly, this feels good for the witch, too. Sometimes it feels so good that everything seems to burst, like a spell backfiring."
Bellatrix shut her eyes. She felt dizzy. Her ears were ringing. She was seeing spots behind her eyelids. She wanted to be naked with Mr Riddle, she thought. She wanted to be atop him with him inside of her body.
"And if it's done well - really well - it all winds up as a tangled mess of sheets and sweaty limbs and two people kissing one another in the wake of -"
"Stop." Bellatrix was desperate now. She opened her eyes, and Mr Riddle looked concerned. He dabbed his napkin at his lips and nodded. His cheeks had gone pink.
"I took that too far. I apologise."
"No. It's… I want…" Bellatrix impulsively reached for his hand in his lap. She squeezed at his fingers, and she watched his throat bob. She waited for him to meet her eyes, and then she shook her head and whimpered,
"I don't want Rodolphus Lestrange to ever come back from Russia. I want you to finish your beautiful castle, and then I want to tell my parents that I'm going to marry you. And then I want to go live with you in your castle, and I want to learn Dark magic from you, and I want to watch you rise and become a very powerful wizard. And every night, I want you inside of me. I want all of that so very badly, Mr Riddle."
"Do you?" He put his lips into a line and nodded. "I want that, too, Miss Black."
"Bellatrix," she corrected him. He dragged his thumb over her fingers and whispered,
"Bellatrix."
"Asher, if all you're going to do is criticise, then I shall stop showing you."
Asher Avery rolled his eyes and flopped back onto Bellatrix's bed. She stood before him in undergarments and a corset, and she huffed. She pulled out another dress, and she heard Asher ask,
"Is it another taffeta one?"
"No; this one's raw silk," Bellatrix said. She used her wand to get the dress on and tied up. "What do you think?"
"So much better," breathed Asher, sitting up. "Is that the one you're going to wear to the wedding?"
"I think so." Bellatrix looked down at the elegant gown and sighed. The next day was the wedding of Decimus Malfoy and Faustina Malfoy.
"I think it's wretched," Asher huffed. "Their parents are siblings; they're first cousins. I know the Pureblood community is already a bit inbred, but… really. They grew up together. Practically siblings."
"It is a bit crass," Bellatrix agreed, "but Decimus presented himself as a suitor to Faustina, and out of all her choices, she chose her cousin."
"Wretched," Asher said again. "I was thinking of wearing olive green, but then I thought that would look putrid in Malfoy Manor."
"Perhaps a darker green," Bellatrix suggested. "More of a forest shade."
"Yes. That will do," Asher nodded. "Wear that gown; it's so much better than the others and you look marvelous in it. Really."
"Thanks." Bellatrix used her wand to pull off the gown again, and as she replaced it with her black cotton day dress, she heard Asher ask,
"How's Mr Lestrange doing in Russia?"
"Oh, I'm sure he's fine. I wrote to him again a few days ago, though I think I was rather perfunctory," Bellatrix admitted. "He is not my first choice. I'm not sure how to let him know that."
"So it's Mr Riddle." Asher raised his eyebrows. "The forty-something lifelong bachelor, orphaned Half-Blood, poor as a -"
"Soon enough, he's going to be very impressive," Bellatrix said firmly. Asher looked interested, and Bellatrix told him, "Soon enough, he'll be lord of his own fine estate, and once he's got my dowry, he'll have a fortune, too. And his mother was a Gaunt. He was also the finest pupil Hogwarts has ever seen, and he spent years studying advanced magic on the Continent."
"You think very highly of him." It wasn't a question. Asher slid off the bed and walked to where Bellatrix stood. He fingered her ringlets and tipped his head down at her. "You've fallen for him, haven't you? Silly girl."
Bellatrix shut her eyes and whispered. "I can't help it. He's… I…"
"Marry him, then," Asher suggested, and Bellatrix told him,
"I'm going to, as soon as I possibly can."
"As soon as he's lord of his own fine estate." Asher used Bellatrix's own words, so she just nodded. He sighed and told her,
"Do be careful, my darling friend. I only wish for your happiness. I hope he will give it to you."
"I think he will." Bellatrix heard the clock singing from downstairs, and Asher gave her a look.
"I've got to go," he said. "I'll see you at Malfoy Manor tomorrow, yes? Save me a minuet."
"I'll save you two," Bellatrix promised him, and she walked him out of her bedchamber.
Author's Note: For those interested, Praelia (in the castle's name) is a Latin term for warrior. The name Bellatrix is also a Latin term for warrior.
Thank you very much for reading and a hundred thousand thanks for reviewing!