I don't own Harry Potter.
Please read the AN at the end of the Chapter, it's kinda significant for those who haven't understood some aspects of this story.
Once again, don't forget to comment, or leave a Kudo (only for AO3), and tell me what you think. I'm open to ideas and suggestions! Have fun reading!

OH yeah, this Chapter contains Mentions of Smut and Frottage. Read at your own caution.

Amarantha's mind still reeled from the influx of information Marvolo had given her a few days prior. The disgust seemed to be permanent in her belly now, and she sometimes had to take a short break between actions to calm herself down. The knowledge of the Orders betrayal was still fresh in her mind, each movement and thought reminding her of the good times she had spent with those People.

How every one of those memories had been fake, to some extent. They had happened, but when you find out that your best friend, his mother and your mentor plotted together to ruin your life, it took the significance of them away. Instead of feeling happy when she thought of them, as she had been until a few days ago, the witch felt sick and angry.

The matter was worsened by herself. She blamed herself for the events that had unfolded during the last years. Had she been more guarded, more careful about whom she trusted, the betrayal wouldn't have hurt so bad, she thought. Amara had learned from a young age not to give herself completely to people, for they would only use her or discard her in the end. The hate and anger against her own self was reflected with voices, that haunted her every hour and minute of her days. Whisperings in the darkness, reminding her of her naivety, her blindness against the blatant manipulation. Shadowy hands against her throat that chocked her in the middle of the night, when the silence and solitude became almost too much to bear. Mocking laughs when she felt at her weakest, most vulnerable state.

The only way she had found to silence the thoughts and the voices, was to spend her time and fill her broken mind with other things.

One of those was Marvolo.

Instead of having to chase her down in the manor, Amara went out of her way to look for him. She spent more time than before at his side, talking to him, or just simply enjoying the company of the busy wizard. It was hard to do so, the day after he showed her the truth since the teen felt deeply embarrassed by her actions and words. Calling him 'My Lord' and promising her entire being to him was a very just excuse for feeling slightly mortified.
Thankfully, he had known how to calm her nerves, as she had feared that he would start demanding outrageous things from her.

Voldemort had simply smiled at breakfast and told her not to worry. He would find the opportunity to make her tormentors and deceivers suffer, and that her payment would be discussed when the time came.

Unbeknownst to her, Marvolo planned to make her agree with the Bonding on the very day it was meant to take place. Her Oath would prevent her from going back on her word. Hopefully, he would have managed to have her willing by then, but he preferred to have a second plan in case not everything turned out the way he wanted.

He had also asked her not to address him by his magical title, as it wasn't her place or her obligation to do so. He would much rather have her calling him 'My Lord Husband' than simply 'My Lord'.

Combating the loneliness and her frayed nerves wasn't easy, but Marvolo certainly found a way to help her. Each day that they spend together, Amara found herself growing more attached to him. Her mental state wasn't helped by the rapidly approaching Birthday that would mark the day she was to marry the foolish boy. The Dark Lords numerous reassurances that nothing would happen, and that she was safe, weren't much help either. Though she found some part of herself trusting his relieving words, Amara was hesitant to believe him concerning this matter.

This whole situation was partly produced from her idiotic mistake to trust people and their empty words.

Marvolo wasn't pleased in the slightest. The delicate state the 15-year-old seemed to be constantly in could be appreciated of course - as it had the advantage of rendering her entirely susceptible to his influences - but the fact that her trust was nearly shattered to the point of disrepair left much to be desired for.

He needed her to trust him for the Courting to work.

So, her placated himself with giving her presents every single day, ranging from precious Jewellery to the sturdy mare in the stables.

Witches liked presents, he knew this from experience. And the surprise and satisfaction that illuminated her face each time he pleased her in some manner was truly gratifying.

And it served well to distract her from her worrying thoughts.

Amara felt appreciated for once the first time in her life. With Marvolo, nothing was about how she had defeated him as a mere babe, or how much wealth she had to her name, or how beautiful she was. Of course, there was the matter of the Horcrux, but when no one was looking, Amara thanked the heavens for giving her something that made her indirectly content.

Marvolo was charming to her all the time now, making her feel cherished and safe. He didn't try to hide his attraction, as he kissed her when he felt was appropriate (which was bordering on every hour now). She simply assumed that it was one form of payment he extracted from her, for the revenge she had begged him to grant her.
Not that she minded terribly, of course. After all, Marvolo's dimpled confident smirk always made something do a flip in her belly. And he was so very skilled at it. Only a delusional person would mind the kisses.

Her abduction hadn't been as terrible as Amarantha expected. In fact, it almost felt like a blessing, now that she was aware of the deceit that ran deep in her supposed circle of trusted people, and that she was unsure of whom to trust.

Lord Voldemort sat on the white blanket, watching his fiancée stare into the clear, cloudless sky. He had insisted having his meal outside today, a week after he had proven to her how her high opinion and trust was misplaced in the order.
She hadn't taken it well.
The witch was subdued, though she sought him out far more often than before. That development pleased him to no end, as that fulfilled the second step in the courting, but other than that, things weren't well. At all.

Amarantha spent much of her time thinking, which would be good under any other circumstance. But it didn't suit him at all, especially since he knew that the carrier of his Horcrux was rotting from the inside out. She was so quiet now, preferring to sit motionlessly wherever she could, thinking about things that didn't make her feel any better. It was noticeable how her health deteriorated. She retained her loveliness, young and delicate, but other than that Amara looked tired, worn out, and most important of all, sad.

Marvolo didn't like to see her sad. He'd rather see the girl jump up in fury or fear, any kind of emotion except for this one. She looked dead sometimes, like a lifeless doll, green eyes wide and vacant, with an empty expression.

He knew that she was depressed. He didn't know what to do. The elves had been instructed to watch the girl attentively now, to alert him if she took the steps to hurt herself.
He was sure that after she had become completely dependent on him, her state of mind would better.

"Is something the matter Marvolo?" the girl's soft voice pulled him out of his deep thoughts, her glowing eyes fixated on his handsome face. To distract her from the fact that he was undoubtedly pondering her situation, he took one of her delicate hands into his own and pressed his lips against the knuckles.

The giggled absentmindedly, and she turned to look at the field of plants that surrounded them. It was a truly beautiful sight, heart-breaking in its loveliness, as the colourful wildflowers and herbs swayed gently in the afternoon breeze.

It was a truly fetching summer, she decided, after a brief moment of pondering. A summer that was spent eating to her hearts content – Aunt petunia's shrieking briefly flashed into her mind and she tried not to cringe at the memory- and learning with a cold glass of lemonade about subjects she didn't know existed before.

She wasn't happy, by far, or healthy but she was content. And that was good enough for her.

Sensing that she was entering the darker parts of her mind, Marvolo pulled her into his lap, the surprised gasp of the witch like music in his ears as he bent over to press his lips softly against hers.

This had become a habit now, to his relief, as she never tried to pull away when he initiated the contact. Of course, Amara never went out of her way to instigate it, but that would come soon.

She sighed into his mouth, thoroughly enjoying the gentleness of his actions, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

Satisfied, Marvolo suppressed a smirk, and he tipped her head over to allow him better access. How he adored having her in his arms, pliant and gentle like he had always imagined a wife of his to be.

Though the adolescent could sometimes be rude and borderline disrespectful, she would soon become as well-mannered and elegant as a Lady of her standing should be. Silently, he wondered about her Ladyships, and the number of heirs they would need to produce to split all the titles they shared between the two.

He was soon distracted by the delectably body who trembled so deliciously in his embrace, and he went back to the pleasurable task.

Not long after, they found themselves in a laying position, sharing brief and soft kisses when the mood struck him. The picknick was a success, he decided, as he looked at the content face of his intended, who had closed her eyes as she relaxed with the sounds of the chirping birds, rustling plants and screeching insects. Marvolo made a mental note to reward the elves, and their fast thinking when confronted with his last-minute plans. Especially that new elf, Finny, who was enamoured with the soon to be mistress of his household.

"Marvolo, why are you bothering with me? I mean, I can understand that you wish to have your Horcrux close at hand, but no there is no rule that says that I have to be comfortable for you to do so." Amara had opened her lovely eyes, but she averted them from his face, rosy lips pinched in discomfort. She looked nervous, and the Dark Lord realized that she was afraid of the answer.

He was about to reply when he heard the sound of rushed footsteps walking down the path that lead to their shared blanket.

As he was about to turn around and whip out his wand, the witch flinched in surprise, jumping on his lap and burrowing her face into the soft material of his shirt. Now burdened with the nearly non-existent weight of the girl, he waited for the assailant to arrive, but soon recognized the Aura of the person that was approaching.

"What brings you here, Lucius? Without summons no less." Marvolo's toned chest hid the witch from view, the only parts visible were the thin, pale arms embracing the Lord with desperation.

"My Lord, I am terribly sorry for the intrusion, but a matter of utmost importance has occurred. A matter that is very advantageous for the Cause." The elder Malfoy was hesitant to reveal more facts about the misbehaviour of one of his Lords most trusted in the presence of an unknown person.

It was bad enough that he had disrupted time of a courting couple, as the magical backlash could be quite violent if it had been done with ill intent, but it was made worse by the fact that it was his Lord's courting. Lucius was sure that, had he been someone else, he wouldn't have gone unharmed from the whole ordeal.

"Very well. Return to the Manor and wait for me in the Study, I will be there with you when I can."
Quietly bowing before his Master, the blond Lord whirled around in a flurry of cobalt robes and exited the field in large steps.

He felt curious though, as any wizard would. The identity of the witch his Lord was insistent on bonding was a mystery to anyone who knew about the Courting - Which was but a select few - except for Severus, who seemed to know but kept his silence on the matter. It irked Lucius to no end that his old friend was unwilling to reveal at least a name.

He was, after all, always the first to know about such things.

Marvolo looked at the retreating figure of his favourite Lieutenant, a man who he had nearly raised during his service as a death eater. Abraxas Malfoy had been a vile man, useful, but disgusting in his quest for acceptance in his Lords eyes.

The then Lord of Malfoy had sacrificed his teenage son to the lifelong service, intent of having him marry his Lord and grant him the satisfaction of further riches and power.

He hadn't expected to be silently assassinated by a recently recruited Snape. He certainly hadn't tasted the Belladonna in his goblet of mead.

Turning back to the girl, whose death grip on his shirt had somewhat lessened in the absence of the blonde, he sighed subtly and gathered her tighter against him.

He hadn't forgotten her question.

"The truth is that I feel… enchanted by you. The Horcrux only helps matter, but there is this pull I feel, whenever I am in your presence. I felt it first when you were fourteen when you stood up to me so valiantly after my resurrection. I may have taken you without your consent, but rest assured that I did not do so with ill intent in mind."

"I-…" There were tears in her green eyes, threatening to fall at the charming words from the man she had hated since a very young age.

"I know that some of the things that I've done over the years are inexcusable, your parents' death is one of them, but I want, no I need you to know that nothing will ever deter me from caring for you."

The silence was deafening, the animals having vanished upon sensing the turbulent emotions from the wizarding pair in their midst.

Amara shuffled away or at least tried to, but Marvolo had anticipated her reaction, and for each movement to escape she attempted, the Dark Lord held her tighter. He knew of her abandonment issues. It was hard not to when she was so obvious about it. It was one of the reasons why she felt so miserable after learning of her Mentors deceit.

Panicking, Amara cried out in fear, but not because of him, but because of his words.
She couldn't fall for something like this again, or she would never recover from it.

"Let me go, Marvolo, I cannot- "

"You cannot, but you will Amarantha! I will never let you go! You will always be mine, whether you accept it or not." She shuddered at the possessiveness in the tone of the man, whose hands gripped her hips with a delicious bruising pleasure.

"You cannot force me Marvolo! I can't do this!" Anger clouded his mind, fear at having the one person he knew with certainty step away from his life. It was in this moment that Marvolo realized that he had grown rather dependent on the girl.
"Amarantha, I will never hurt you, I will never betray you! Why can't you understand that?"

"Why can't you understand that I can't trust you Marvolo? You may have given me the Oath to spare me of pain, suffering and death, but you have been the reason for much of those three things in my life! You cannot just expect me to erase those from my mind just because you treat me well!" For the first time in a week, Amara felt alive as she hissed those words at the man. He looked as shocked as she felt, ruby-red eyes wide at her angry and passionate outburst.

Though when he finally understood, his eyes softened, and his hand went to caress her cheek gently, a small hurting smile illuminating his handsome face.

"I am aware of my faults, Amarantha. I truly do not wish to see any harm come your way. So, I swear." The magic of the unconscious Oath evaluated his truthfulness and found it legitimate, thus the bright flash of magic that glowed around the wizard for a second.

Amara shook her head, unwilling to trust despite knowing that a magical Oath couldn't be faked.
She refused to make herself vulnerable again.

The Dark Lord frowned at the negative response of the girl, the small hopeful smile slipping from his face like oil on water. Growling, he threw her to the ground and straddled her hips, their bodies so close that both could feel the heat from the other person through the thin fabrics of their summer attire.

The witch blushed at the contact, this being far bolder than any other thing Marvolo had done since attacking and nearly ravaging her against the corridor wall. It wasn't something she thought about often, as It had the uncomfortable consequence of leaving her flushed and squirming in her seat.
But despite the situation – that made her feel too much like a deer cornered by a ravenous wolf – she looked straight into his eyes, fearless as she asked him her next question.

"If you care so much, then answer me this: Do you care for the bearer or the Horcrux more?" she spat out, aroused and angry at the same time.

Marvolo bend down and nudged her face to the side with one hand, fingering the pale, unmarked throat with more care than she had thought him capable of when this infuriated. He chuckled at the obscene shiver that coursed through her body when his palm covered the exposed skin easily, applying a tad bit of pressure that left her hotter than she was before.

Curse him!

"I care a great deal about you, Amarantha, or you wouldn't be here. Of course, the Horcrux plays a role in that, but I've come to appreciate the chaos you bring with you."

"What-?"

"Let me finish! I care about your silly appreciation for the fauna in the gardens, for your silent pride and your humbleness. I care about your fire, the hidden viciousness in your eyes whenever I say something that angers you. I care about you even when you're dead to the world, lost in your thoughts and hate. I even care about that small, insignificant way you touch your napkin at dinner, or how you talk with that bloody owl of yours. I care about you, Vessel of my Soul, more than you'd like to-"

Passionate lips crashed against his, inexperienced and soft in an attempt to drown out his words. Amara felt deeply moved, so much in fact, that she didn't want to hear another word.

Marvolo responded to the kiss with a feverish need, soon dominating it the exchange, as he flipped them around. The witch was spread out over his body, like an offering to the gods, white dress bundling up around her hips as her toned thighs spread around his waist. Though it was too soon for anything else, the dark Lord used the distraction to slide his hands from the swell of her buttocks to the small of her back, enticing a soft keen from her that made him freeze with the onslaught of sudden but nearly crippling arousal.

Seeming to realize just how bold her actions were, Amara sat up with a gasp, detaching herself from the wizard's mouth in mere seconds. Here face was flushed, and her lips swollen from the aggressive kiss that she had initiated.

"I'm sorry Marvolo, I didn't mean to do- "

"Stop."

Confused, the girl let herself fall again from her near standing position, to look at the wizard whose suddenly unreadable, cold face was turned to the sky, narrowed eyes unseeing. The change into Parseltongue didn't faze her in the slightest as he had taken it upon himself to ease her into the language since the arrival of Nagini.

"What?"

"Don't apologize for something both of us clearly enjoyed."

His cutting words would have hurt her if she wasn't used to his sudden mood swings.

Amarantha went to stand up again when his hands flew from her throat and her back to rest on her two hips, bruising the delicate skin under the airy material of her summer dress.

"Don't move."

"Excuse me?"

"I said don't move."

"I don't understand."

"That is rather obvious, but I implore you not to move if you do not wish to finish what you started."

Amarantha had to ponder and think of his answer for a short moment, and when she decided that she really didn't understand what he was talking about, she shifted to sit next to him. She shouldn't have.

Had Voldemort been a lesser man, he would have been ashamed of his body's reaction to the slip of the girl, but really, what man could resist such a delicious treat that unconsciously ground herself down on him as she desperately ravaged his willing mouth. It was only natural for a man like him, who thoroughly enjoyed the finer ways of life, to develop an erection. An erection that was pressed directly against the place he so wished he could fill, that was only separated from him through a thin pair of cotton panties.

"Oh."

"Yes Oh. If you have no wish to help me, which you are in no obligation of, I would recommend you stay like you are, and try not to move. Or you can remove yourself from my presence." Though he had not meant the words to be insulting, his concentration on not pouncing on the witch caused to them to make her flinch, sharp and cutting as they were.

"I really didn't mean to do that Marvolo. I mean, you were saying so many things to me, and I just couldn't bear to listen more, so I just…" She sniffled, as she realized the mistake she had made. How embarrassing. For the first time that she had initiated contact, she caused Marvolo to feel so pained.

"You just wanted me to shut up." He huffed in indignation, as she nodded. He hissed when the movement travelled down her body and shook against his straining bulge.

"Ah… don't do that please." Amara sniffed again, wiped her eyes with her hand, and stayed seated.

It was an uncomfortable experience. Marvolo laid tense under her, and she felt more and more aroused by the reaction his body had to hers, the evidence pressing against her crotch.
It was difficult not to move when she had the need to either grind down harder to come closer to the feeling she knew would bring her satisfaction, or to run away and lock herself up in her room.

"Don't you think it would be better if I just left? I mean, I don't know how to help you, and I don't want to discomfort you further with my actions…" Marvolo remained silent for a little moment until he breathed out a laugh, and his upturned eyes gazed down to rest on her flushed face.

He knew he shouldn't have, but he couldn't resist it. His hips ground up, straining budge pressing against the delicious warm heat of the girls sensitive crotch. Amara squealed at the unfamiliar, but beyond pleasurable feeling. It arose something deep inside her, something primal that felt like an animal, whose only occupation was to circle aimlessly, restlessly in its cage, waiting for an opening to escape.

The Dark Lord smirked, as he tried to hide just what that had done to his crumbling self-control, and the girl blushed harder after realizing the sort of wanton sound that had passed her lips.

"If you want to help me so bad, then put your hands on my chest and let me take the lead. I'll take good care of you, I promise that."

Amara was a good person. She wouldn't leave the man like that after having caused it in the first place. Once, in the Gryffindor common room, she had heard the quiet whispers of boys, exchanging stories about their bodies. They had talked about the very phenomenon that was currently underneath her, and how it hurt if it wasn't taken care of quickly.

It clearly did, if the pinched expression on Marvolo's face was anything to go on.

So, the teen did as instructed, and leaned forward to place her hands on his toned chest, flush spreading over the expanse of the face and down her neck.

He answered her actions with a grin, full of teeth and something she couldn't recognize, as his eyes gleamed in the bright light of the afternoon.

"Now, press yourself down on me, my dear, and let me take control. Don't worry, I won't bite you." She was vaguely reminded of the time she had awoken for the first day in captivity. She knew better than to respond how she had then.

The witch obeyed his commands, a silent gasp leaving her mouth as she felt a sharp tingle of pleasure shoot up her spine at the action.

He smiled again, though he was far more concentrated on grinding up, hard cock against the delicate, sweet flesh of the girl he was sure he would marry now.

"M-Marvolo…" The whisper sounded almost reverent, like a quiet prayer, and the wizard knew that instead of scaring her with his actions, it had endeared him more to her than he had calculated.

"Yess… say it, love. What is it?" the movements continued, soft and languished, as if they had the time of the world to chase their pleasure.

"I...It… It feels good." The last word was almost a sob, the girl being overwhelmed by her, no doubt, first venture in the realm of carnal pleasure. Sweet and innocent as she was, not to mention busy, it was more than improbable that she had found the need or the time to explore herself.

"Does it? I'm glad to hear that. And it feels good for me too." It wasn't a lie. Though he wasn't buried deeply inside her like he wanted, this was the next best thing. She was above him, grinding down on his straining cock like a vixen, blushing and trembling like a doe. She repeated the move, gasping each time she pressed herself against him.

Her long hair had long fallen out of its messy braid, the wild curls tickling his face whenever she bent down too low.

Growing tired of the slow tempo, Marvolo sat up, and angled his hips to brush just against the girl's clit, and she cried out, pleasure building in both of their bellies.

His right hand, who had until now been holing the girls hip in a bruising grip, travelled down, though not by far as the was so petite, to rub against the sensitive pearl through the soft, white panties.

Voldemort nearly salivated when looking at the girl, long hair cascading down her back in a curtain of silk, pale glistening skin glowing like a beacon of light she was, rosy lips opened to let out rhythmic sobs, as he rutted against her.

It was delicious. She was delicious.

He had enough self-restraint not to penetrate her so early in the plan, but damn if he didn't want to bury himself in the little body of the pliant girl and fuck her against the blanket of their afternoon picknick.

He had taken his many shares of lovers to bed, both female and male, but none had ever made him feel as alive as she did, moaning his name in a sweet voice as his thumb rubbed her clit in circles.

She came suddenly, little spurts of squirt spraying through the undergarments and against his clothed cock, whimpering against his chest. He followed her soon after that with a growl, pressed as tightly to her body without removing her underwear or filling her up to the brim with his straining member.

It was silent after that, for a long while, as she slowly regained her breath and her composure after the high of an orgasm. Marvolo watched her attentively, looking for any trace of regret, which surprisingly enough, wasn't to be seen. Though the lovely flush hadn't disappeared yet.

She detached herself from him, quivering legs crawling slowly to create some space between them.

"Amarantha."

She flinched, though she tried to hide it, as she tried to calm her racing heart. She couldn't believe what she had done!

The teen had been brought to completion by the man who had murdered her parents, who had kidnapped her, who had tried to kill her more than once in her life.

But she couldn't bring herself to regret it.
There was something that stopped her from doing so.

"Amarantha, please look at me." She remained stubborn, back facing him, and he sighed.
"Fine then, we'll do it your way." The witch hadn't been prepared for the force by which he grabbed her, and she found herself pressed tight against him again, this time with no erection to influence their thoughts and behaviour.

What if he hadn't liked? What if she was too boring? What if she had been too presumptuous in her actions?

"I do not regret what just happened. In fact, I enjoyed it immensely. If I didn't know you better, I'd ask for an encore, but… I think that was enough excitement for one day." The girl sniffed and forced a watery chuckled out of her bruised throat.

"Marvolo, I'd really like to go to my room and spend some time alone, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Lucius is waiting for me in the study anyway. But we will talk about this after dinner. Or tomorrow if you like."

There was no way to refuse, so she simply nodded, stood up, rearranged her dress, and waited for him to do so as well.

Together, they walked towards the Manor and into the building, a tense but not uncomfortable silence serving as a barrier between them.

When they finally arrived in front of Amara's room, Marvolo kissed her one last time, teeth nipping playfully at her soft lips, and whispered her his goodbye.

"I will see you at Dinner."

She watched the tall figure disappear into another hallway, toned back proud and graceful, and she had to remind herself mentally not to think of the things that had happened during what was supposed to be a harmless meal.

But no matter how bold or unexpected this was, she found herself liking the feeling of arousal, and the memory of the hard body grinding and pressing itself into her soft one.

Deep in thought, Amara entered her room, cleaned herself up, and grabbed a book from one of the shelves to relax and distract herself on her favourite seat.

After what had happened, it wasn't probable that the voices would overpower her anytime soon.

Bellatrix Lestrange observed her sister form the corner of her eyes, silently hating the beauty and poise the woman held herself with while doing something as silent as needlepoint.

Narcissa had married well, had aged well, and had found happiness. Unlike the dark-haired witch, she was loved by her stoic husband, who showered her with presents and luxuries one and a half decade after their wedding.

Rodolphus was absolutely vile, in comparison, disgracing himself by choosing male lovers instead of laying with his own wife.

But Bellatrix didn't really mind. She had her Lord's attention after all.

Not many could boast with sharing their Lord's bed, least of all more than once, but she certainly could. She was Lord Voldemort's dark Concubine, chosen for her aptness in the chambers as well as in the battlefield.

It was her life's greatest achievement.

But there was something that was bothering the witch, despite her pride in her unique position in the Inner Circle.

Her Lord hadn't asked her to assist him for pleasure since his attack on Azkaban, always narrowing his eyes or brushing past her entirely whenever she approached him. Nor had she been allowed to go on raids with her fellow Death Eaters, ever since she had nearly murdered her wretched cousin Sirius during the fiasco of the Ministry of Magic.

He seemed to be cross with her, why she couldn't understand, but she was convinced that there was a way to mend the situation.
It was then that an idea jumped to life in her mind, and she could have cackled with victory, at its simplicity.

Narcissa, who was so loved and cherished by the pompous Malfoy Lord, was nearly always privy to the information her spouse stumbled upon. She had to know the reason for her Lord's abstinence. Besides, she was the younger of the two, and small siblings always had to obey their elders in one way or another.

The blond sister felt a shiver of foreboding course through her body, as the craziest of her siblings stared at her with a malicious smile. She nearly pricked her finger on the needle and vowed to be more attentive to the woman's behaviour.

"Cissa, dear?" She tried not to gulp in unease at the uncharacteristically sweet voice, the one her sister had always used to get Narcissa to do things when they were girls.

"Yes, Bella?"

"Our Lord has been absent lately. His residence is unreachable except for emergencies, and His Lordship rarely graces us with his presence. Since I, as the Dark Lords Concubine, have been otherwise occupied, it had slipped my mind until now to visit him myself. Are you aware of the reason for our Lords behaviour?"

The lady suppressed a sigh at her sister's question. Azkaban had deteriorated many things about the witch she was related to, not only restricted to her beauty and magic, but also to her mental health.

Before the destruction of their Lords body, Bella had indeed been considered to be a glorified whore of their Lord, but after His resurrection and the successful breakout of the wizarding prison, He hadn't spared her a second glance.

For a good reason, if the mans intent to Court was genuine. The magic wouldn't allow infidelity during the whole process anyway.

Bellatrix seemed to live her life in the past, refusing to admit that their Master had lost interest in her.

She did nothing else but follow Him, obsessively stalking from the shadows, and intimidate the new recruits into serving her, more than their Lord. She thought herself in the right, and the Lady's nostrils flared imperceptibly in a sudden bout of fury at the memory of what her sister had done the week prior.

"Sister, I gravely recommend you to cease your search for our Lord's whereabouts. He is very busy with the Plans to the cause and cannot find the time to entertain your nonsense." Narcissa had been tasked with keeping her sibling in line, by her Husband no less, since their Lord truly didn't need to bother with restraining and disciplining Bella's sickness. A hard hand was needed to control her, and if someone knew how to treat and manipulate the lunatic, it was her.

"How dare you speak to me that way! Narcissa, you should respect your betters!" Irritated, the Lestrange went to whip out her wand, deeming the blonds sentence worthy of a punishment only to realize that she had left it in her rooms. Her sister stared at her in thinly veiled disgust, delicate hands stopping in the middle of her stitching.

The Malfoy matriarch raised one perfect eyebrow, disdain now evident on her exquisite face, and Bellatrix flushed in indignation. She was lovelier than her sister, so why hadn't her Lord demanded her presence yet?

Huffing in anger, the dark-haired woman stomped out of the room with deplorable manners, to retrieve her wand so she could curse her sister appropriately.

If her own blood wasn't willing to help her, she would find a way of her own to entice her Lord back into her bed.
She had rights after all.

Lucius stood and bowed as soon as his Master entered the study in large steps, irritation clear on the handsome face, and he cursed himself mentally once again for having interrupted his Lord during a Courting Session.
Though it seemed that it had been successful after all, if the rumpled state of the Lord's clothes was anything to go on.

"Speak."

The Malfoy nodded, keeping his head respectfully lowered, as he took back the seat he had previously occupied. He handed his Lord the files that were related to the reports he was about to give.

"My Lord, Severus has been made aware of a sensitive information that he could only pass along in paper. He gave me these documents to pass on, as the Headmaster has been more attentive to his moves. Aside from that the Order has been more than active this summer. Alone in the past three weeks, they have managed to raid 7 out of our 15 safehouses. The children and the disciples of the Dark are scared, My Lord. They…"

Voldemort sat back, fingers thumbing through the documents while he listened to his firmest follower.
The order of the Phoenix was proving itself to be stubborn, as they exterminated the Dark Creatures and Witch folk for their beliefs and orientation. It was a travesty, what Dumbledore had done to magic int the last century.

Children were taught nothing at Hogwarts, and when they graduated, the became unremarkable. 18 % of the students moved on to complete masteries, but the rest was beyond hope, preferring to work in menial positions at the ministry. Those who couldn't, mostly half-bloods and Muggleborns, returned to the Muggle world, without the education to find a proper job. It was, all in all, very advantageous for the Headmaster, who – only in public – preached about finding a proper place for their outcasts. If he had really tried to change society, Dumbledore, as the head of the Wizengamot and a member of the ICW, would have used his positions to promote and instate new laws to help them. He would have changed the curriculum of the ancient school to suit his ideas. But he hadn't.
That was proof of his intentions enough.

When he heard the hesitation in the voice of the blond, his head snapped up, red eyes glowing in the room.

"They do not believe me fit to lead?"

"NO! My Lord, it is nothing like that. The people are scared, but they do not doubt your Leadership."

"Then what is it you came here to tell me? That the war is turning uglier by the second, that we are losing soldiers and members left and right? I am well aware of this fact Lucius, so if you have anything of importance to tell me, please get on with it!" his words ended with a shout, as he paced angrily across the furnished room.

The Malfoy nodded, aware of his Masters thin temper, and he hurried to get on with the next topic of importance.

"Mater, my wife's sister Bellatrix has been incontrollable as of late. Her behaviour has grown aggressive in all manners, she regularly attacks the younger recruits for non-justifiable reasons. Narcissa has told me, in full secrecy, that the woman has been like this ever since she was made aware that she… wasn't allowed to return to your bed."

Voldemort's eyes widened for a fraction, shock evident on his face at the news. And then he burst out laughing, loudly and uncontrollably, mocking and incredulous mirth reflected on his features.

"Are you telling me that the woman has acted in a manner not befitting of a Death Eater, just because I won't fuck her?"

"To sum it up… yes."

"And have you told the witch why that is?"

Lucius gulped, tense under the pressure of the ruby gaze.

"No, My Lord. The information you have graced us with has not left our minds or our lips. We vowed to uphold your honour, and that includes your Word… Marvolo." The Dark Lord smirked, aware that his follower had taken offense with the question.
Rarely did the blond dare to call him by his given name, but when he did, he never meant it out of spite.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. What are you doing to alleviate the situation with Bellatrix?"

"We have sent our son away for the time being, for we fear her capabilities in such an irrational state of mind. As of now, she has been restricted to the east wing of the manor, and we have tried to limit her access to her wand as much as possible since the last incident."

The blond looked grave at the mention, face darkening with worry and anger. Marvolo was surprised at the passion shown on the fair face of his most faithful and felt more curious than he had during their conversation to this point. Waving his hand in a silent order, the angry wizard resumed his explanation.

"Bellatrix captured a recent recruit, a boy of the Silas line, and forced him into engaging into sexual activities. He wasn't left unharmed after whole ordeal. The boy lost the ability to walk."

"She raped someone and left the person disabled, and no one deemed it important enough to inform me right away? What is the- " His sentence was interrupted by a loud , blood-curdling scream, and the sound of breaking glass.

Instantly, both men jumped to their feet, surprised and on alert at the loud sound that had disrupted the quiet of the peaceful manor.

Marvolo ran out of the study, forcing himself to remain calm despite recognizing the voice that had shouted in agony.

Amarantha!

Another scream, this time filled with more anguish and pain than the one before, and he hurried, sprinting through the hallways, followed by the heavy footsteps of Lucius.

When the girl's room was finally in sight, he whipped out his wand from its desillusioned holster on his forearm, and barged in, the door already wide open.

The sight that greeted him was horrendous and made his blood freeze in his veins, and he would have gasped if he didn't have a better control over his body.

The well-lit room was chaotic, so different from its usual state of clean organization, and in the middle of it stood Bellatrix Lestrange, dressed in black leathers and latex, the figure-hugging attire unattractive on the gaunt and skeletal-like silhouette. In her arms, she held the object of his affections, Amarantha, who flailed helplessly in her attackers' hands.

She squeezed his girl with a force that made her bones crack, hand tugging violently at the long strands of black silky hair, snarling ferociously. Her other hand held a wand tightly between the thin digits, red glowing tip pressed against the soft skin of the girl's throat.

Amara sobbed, trembling in anger and hopelessness at the situation. If only she had her wand, she thought. If only she could defend herself.

Bellatrix hadn't yet realized that her Lord was present, so she kicked the girl in the back of her legs, sending her sprawling to the floor, cackling maliciously when she fell on the numerous glass shards with a loud cry of pain.

The adolescent witch cowered in fear of the pain that would surely follow, but instead, a soft hand lifted her up from the ground, deep voice in her ear whispering comforting words.

She was too weak to open her eyes, the blood loss from her previous injuries rendering her pretty much useless to defend herself. Not that she had succeeded on that front, as the wounds testified.

Lucius scurried to the side of the injured witch, recognizing her as soon as his eyes laid on her lovely, bruised face. The lightening bold shaped scar on her forehead was the biggest clue to her identity, but it wasn't the only one.

Amarantha Potter was bleeding out on the Dark Lords carpet, and if His enraged demeanour was anything to go on, he wouldn't want her dead.

The Malfoy gathered her into his arms, ignoring the stains her blood would leave on his expensive robes, and ran as quickly as he could to a vacant bedroom, knowing Voldemort would appreciate the privacy.

Once he had laid her on the bed, he called his personal house elf and instructed him to retrieve the potions that ware necessary for this situation as well as call the Inner Circles Potions Master and resident Healer. An eternal minute of anxious fretting passed, and the vials materialized on the bedside table.

The Death Eater proceeded to help her as best as he could as he waited for his old friend, shoving the Blood-Replenishers down her throat and massaging the Healing-Salves into the girl's open wounds.

Marvolo took a step forward, and sent a silent Cruciatus to the insane Lestrange, and it was her turn to fall into the deadly shards.
Her screams sounded like music in his ears, and he sent more and more pain-inducing curses her way, seeking revenge for having her hurt the girl he would marry.

He had seen Lucius disappear with the witch in his arms, no doubt to heal her and give his Lord space to appropriately punish the Lestrange.

Her body shook, eyes rolling into the back of her head, and the Dark Lord remembered just how much he had missed tormenting the deserving.

And she deserved it.

But he realized soon after that that the Death Eater had found pleasure in the Crucio, and he removed it, leaving the wanton, panting witch writhing on the floor.

"Do you know what you have done, Bellatrix?" She looked ugly and old, her skin wrinkled and eyes sunken into their sockets.

"My Lord, I am none but yours. You chose me to be your concubine, to be your right hand when the time was right. The girl is nothing more than a passing fancy. I thought to remove her from your path before she could chain you to something you were not meant to." The rasping voice explained, and even in this state, she certain of her opinion.

Bellatrix Lestrange was convinced that she was right. Voldemort nodded and kneeled down to be closer to her. He summoned a glove, slipped it over his hand, and used that had to turn the witch's face to the side.

"Look at you, Bella. You were so enchanting, so powerful in your youth. That's why I took you, that why I fucked you. I didn't care about you. I still don't."

She looked stricken for a second, but she laughed hysterically soon after, rotten breath hitting her Lord in his face.
He wrinkled his nose, disgusted, but continued speaking, for he knew that it was the only thing that could make her hurt.

"You're worthless now though. No power or prestige to speak of. If you had been pretty to look at it would have given you some points. But you're ghastly now. Old and damaged. The girl though. Amarantha, she is better than you. She is the vessel of my future heirs, of my soul. She has power, wealth, wit and more beauty than you can dream of. You are nothing, Bellatrix Lestrange."

It was then that she truly realized the meaning of his words, and she screamed in agony, yellow teeth on display and Marvolo stood up. He tilted his head to the side, observing her with lazy interest, and he smiled that dimpled grin that Bella had killed to see.

"You have served me well over the years. I remove you from my service. Morsmordre Tollere." Voldemort's wand was pointed at the inconsolable woman, who, upon understanding the meaning of the words, had tried to scramble away from him. But there was no escape from what the had done.

Bella's left forearm burned and sizzled, as the Dark Mark's ink returned to its master's wand. She was left screaming on the floor, scratching at the red skin. as she felt the loss of her Lord's magic.

Sending one last look her way, he smiled kindly and a green flash illuminated the room

Hello People!

Here is another Chapter.
Hehehe, Marvolo and Amara are kissing under a tree~

Nah but for real, I hope you can all see the way the Courting magic is changing them slowly to suit their Partner. Marvolo does his best to sooth Amara, and she is starting to like him more for no reason at all. Beside that, they are staring to approach each other physically, which Amara is really NOT ready for.
Anyway, I hope you all like this new chapter, although I feel like too much happens in this one.
I realized in the middle of writing this one, that I made a really weird mistake with the dates.

For that reason alone, I edited the Prologue, so, any of you that want this to be logical and in a chronological order, please, go ahead and read it again.

For those who don't, here is a simple list of the things that happened.

23rd of June: Amara is abducted and wakes up in Marvolo's Manor.

9th of July: Marvolo punishes Amara for a thought, and she is reminded of her past Demons.

11th of July: Marvolo seeks to apologize for his actions and causes her to jump out of a window.

13th of July: Voldemort explains the reason for her stay in the Manor and lets her come to term with the fact that nothing is as she believed. Marvolo gives Amara the enchanted rose, and initiates the Courting

14th of July: Amara attempts to save Severus, and later is proven just how far the Orders betrayal runs. She also finds out about the betrothal.

20th of July: Events of this chapter. Amara makes out with Marvolo and is nearly murdered by Bellatrix.

Someone also pointed out to me (Thanks a lot QueenLyssa) that We don't really know until now what is happening with the Order. Trust me, we'll get there. But it's kinda pointless to write about them when they don't know yet that she's missing.

By the way, for those that didn't understand, Amara is 15, and will turn 16 in around 2 weeks. That is also the day she is supposed to marry ron, which, really huns, wont ever happen in my story.

Have a nice week, y'all!

Valery.