ALBUS DUMBLEDORE FILES FORMAL COMPLAINT AGAINST MINISTER YAXLEY! In a move that concerned his friends and caused his detractors to label him 'unstable' and 'deteriorating,' Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore issued a formal complaint within the Wizengamot against Minister for Magic Corban Yaxley, alleging that Yaxley utilised 'unjust, dishonest, and even illegal means to seize the reins of authority.' When asked about these allegations, Minister Yaxley stated the following:

'The Wizengamot removed Minister Jenkins from her post because our community has experienced a period of profound instability as of late. Many crave a steadier life for wizarding Britain, with less conflict. I was placed into the position of Minister out of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement because the Wizengamot entrusts me to bring our society to a place of peace. And that is exactly what I promise to do. No complaint or paranoia will distract me from the task at hand.'

The Council For Complaints, which processes formal registered comments within the Wizengamot, dismissed Dumbledore's concerns and stated that Minister Yaxley is predicted to help right the ship of wizarding Britain in a way Eugenia Jenkins could not. When asked how the new government will handle the spectre of Lord Voldemort, the feared and shadowy figure Dumbledore mentioned repeatedly in his written complaint, Minister Yaxley said,

'Rather than fight against a single man like Lord Voldemort, my government will seek to work with all those who seek prosperity for wizarding Britain. Our priority is peace. Our priority is prosperity, comfort, and happiness for the true inhabitants of wizarding Britain. Why Albus Dumbledore is opposed to these goals, I do not know. His paranoia is troubling. I will speak with him personally later today, and hopefully he and I can work something out as gentlemen.'

With his calm demeanour and steady head, Minister Yaxley's ascent is welcomed by nearly all. Even those most staunchly associated with Albus Dumbledore have difficulty defending his exact concerns. For now, Albus Dumbledore appears to stand very much alone.

Voldemort smirked as he set down his copy of the newspaper. He had minds and quills at the Daily Prophet now, and it showed. The reality was that plenty of people agreed with Albus Dumbledore. Minerva McGonagall and even Horace Slughorn had loudly vocalised their support for Dumbledore's complaint. They'd attempted to testify before the Wizengamot. But Voldemort's Imperiused numbers in the government had swelled through Rookwood's and Yaxley's efforts, and now Yaxley had been installed as Voldemort's puppet. His media placements had been able to shut up any stories about support for Dumbledore and instead only publish stories painting Yaxley as a cool, calm moderate.

They would move slowly. One law at a time, interspersed with many other pieces of more pleasant legislation, the Yaxley administration would chip away at the ability of Mudbloods to live in wizarding Britain. The property, jobs, and homes of Mudbloods would be transferred to Half-Bloods and then to Purebloods. Half-Bloods would be incentivised to marry other Half-Bloods with monetary rewards in order to create new, less elite Pureblood families. Mudbloods would be legally forbidden from marriage at all, then from attending Hogwarts, then from employment, then from wand ownership. Over time, a personality cult would be established for Lord Voldemort. Finally, the office of the Minister of Magic would be eradicated entirely, and the whole of wizarding Britain would exist under the reign of the Dark Lord. All of this would take years, but Voldemort was patient. He could wait. He would wait. He would minimise resistance by waiting.

"My Lord?"

He looked up from his desk in his office at Marsham House and held up the Daily Prophet as Bellatrix came walking in with a small folded parchment in her hand. She smiled a bit as she saw the large headline, and she took the paper, reading the story carefully. She grinned and said,

"They did a fine job spinning the story, didn't they? Makes it sound like absolutely no one agrees with him. With Dumbledore. Makes him sound batty."

"Control the newspaper, and you control the minds of the public," Voldemort noted with a shrug. "What's that you've got there?"

"Lucius was very intelligent," Bellatrix said. "Instead of him writing directly to you, he had Narcissa send an owl to me."

"Clever boy," Voldemort said, curling up his lips. "And? What did he say?"

Bellatrix passed over the folded parchment. Voldemort opened it, and upon it was one simple word. Yes.

"Yes." Voldemort folded the parchment again and creased it with his fingers, his heart accelerating. "That means the room is working for him. That means he's got the Cloak and the room is working for him. Soon enough he'll… he'll…"

"Dumbledore will be dead," Bellatrix grinned. Voldemort felt a hot flush in his veins. His Chastity Serum had been working well when he needed it to work, but he hadn't dosed himself today, for it was a Sunday and he was home alone with Bellatrix. Now, after the excitement of the newspaper article and finding out from Lucius Malfoy that the plan to kill Dumbledore was going well, he was hungry. He set the parchment down and stared at Bellatrix, and his mind whirled. He gulped and told her,

"I need you."

"Now?" She smiled crookedly, and he nodded.

"Now."

"All right." She actually reached up under the wide black skirt she wore, and Voldemort was shocked to see her slide down a pair of knickers over her hips and knees. She was freer with sex when they did have it now, he noticed. She wasn't afraid of it now, because it no longer felt like something that existed beyond their control. It felt like a ship they steered, an activity of their own devising. Bellatrix glided her black lace knickers over her ankles and bare feet, and then she held them up on one finger and let them fall to the floor.

"Bellatrix," Voldemort huffed, feeling his cock go quite hard inside his trousers. Bellatrix whispered provocatively,

"I'm wet."

"Bellatrix." Voldemort pushed himself up to stand, and as he approached her, she breathed quickly and deeply, her full lips parted, and she murmured gently,

"So wet for you, Master."

Voldemort peeled off his robe, letting it fall and pool around his feet on the floor, and he yanked his shirt out from the waist of his trousers. He began to unbutton them, and as he walked up to Bellatrix, he instructed her,

"Blouse off."

"Yes, Master." She unbuttoned her black blouse one button at a time, taking entirely too long to do it. She was torturing him, unfastening the buttons at a snail's pace, revealing the gentle swells of her breasts and then the pale, creamy, flat stomach beneath the fabric. Voldemort grew frustrated and put his hands on the sides of the blouse, wrenching it down over her arms as he growled,

"I said off."

She smiled at him and wriggled out of the blouse, and he tipped his head.

"Sorry; is it funny?"

"No, but it's fun," she said, tossing the blouse aside. He unfastened her black lace bra and threw it halfway across the room, and then he wrapped his palm and fingers around the soft curve of her breast. He squeezed rather roughly, thumbing at the hardened peak of her nipple, and she tipped her head back and groaned a little. Voldemort bent and kissed her, swallowing up her moans, and he tasted grapefruit on her lips. He threaded his left fingers into her curls and clenched at her scalp, and then his left hand traveled to the small of her back and pulled her close.

"You're so hard." Bellatrix reached between them after ripping her mouth from his, and her fingers started to pull at his trousers and underwear, seeking to free his cock from its cruel confines. She finally liberated him, stroking mercifully with long and gentle caressing movements. He shivered and whispered,

"On the desk. On the desk, Bella."

"Yes." She started backing toward the desk, her hands still moving on him, and he kissed her as they stumbled a bit. She shoved his trousers down past his buttocks to get them out of the way. One of her hands played with his balls for a moment, and Voldemort grunted at the feel. He took her tiny waist in his hands and hoisted her up onto his desk, and he insisted,

"I want you to lie down and put your ankles on my shoulders, Bellatrix. I'm going to pound you into oblivion."

"That sounds terrifying," she said with a grin, but her eyes glinted, and he knew she was excited. His fingers went between her thighs, and she hadn't been joking. Wet. She was so, so wet. He had to play with her for a moment, then, feeling drawn like a magnet to the satin slick of her folds. He massaged her, kissing her, bending as she lay back. He ground his thumb and fingers roughly against her clit, and when he moved his mouth to Bellatrix's neck, she arched her back up against the stout desk and declared,

"Going to come. Ahhh… oh, Master. Oh. Oh."

"Do it." He clamped his mouth hard on her neck then and nibbled her through the kiss, sucking and biting at her and thinking of the mark he'd leave. That seemed to send her over an unseen edge, and suddenly he felt squeezes around his fingers. Erratic clamping hugged his middle and forefinger, and she twitched against his thumb. She gasped and let out a wordless plea, holding his head as he ravaged her neck, and then all he could do was reach for his cock. He grasped his shaft and shoved himself roughly into her body, and when he'd sheathed himself, he just waited, soaking in the feel of her snug and hot around him. He breathed for a long moment against her neck, and then he stood up.

He lifted her legs, determined to truly fuck her. She was still recovering from her climax, her eyes shut and her bare chest heaving and flushed pink. Her neck was already bruising, which pleased Voldemort immensely. Her fingers grasped for purchase at the polished wood of the desk, and her hair billowed out about her like a beautiful Dark halo. He stared down at her for a long moment, buried within her, holding her ankles at his shoulders, and he whispered,

"I adore you."

"Master, I love you with all that I am," she mumbled back, but she was breathless and seemed a little impatient, too. He dragged his thumbs over her ankles and then moved his hands to her hips, knowing he'd need the leverage. His fingertips dug into her flesh there, and he whispered,

"Hold on tight, pretty little creature."

He began to move then, slowly at first. In and out, in and out, in and out. He slid like a machine, and still she cried out from how deeply and profoundly he filled her. When he sped up, his movements became jerky, uneven, and she began to arch and moan. He pinned her hips to the desk and held fast, steadying her against the rough motions he was inflicting upon her tiny form. After awhile, what he was doing could only be described as fucking. There was no other word for it; he was thrashing against her with such violent vigour that any other word would have minimised what he was doing to her. He was fucking her. Hard. She liked it, too; she was holding onto his forearms and squeezing, her eyes wrenched shut, her breath coming in shallow pants from her parted lips.

"Bellatrix," Voldemort groaned through clenched teeth, knowing he was seconds away from coming. When he felt her clenching again, felt her second climax wash over her like a wave, all hope was lost. He was sweating into his eyes, and his lungs were burning from the exertion of all of this, and still he wanted more, but it was over. He was spent, spilling himself into her, pumping his come almost desperately as he collapsed onto his hands on the desk. He hovered over her and felt his shirt sticking to him, felt his cock twitching inside of her, and he watched her go limp.

"Master," she said in a hoarse, thirsty voice, her face falling to the side. Her skirt was rumpled up around her waist, and her nipples had softened, and her hair was damp around her temples. They were exhausted, messy, and it was the most magnificent thing to ever happen, Voldemort thought. He finally let his body detach from hers, and as he tucked himself away and helped her off the desk, he said almost numbly,

"I think it feels better when it isn't… when the idea of it isn't unnerving."

"Agreed." Bellatrix visibly trembled as she reached for her bra and her blouse. She started to put herself to rights, and Voldemort thought to himself that this was what good sex was. He dragged his fingers through his hair, his sweaty and greying and thinning hair, and he mumbled,

"Soon Dumbledore will be dead, and my worst enemy will be out of my way, and the path will be clearer."

"The path will be clearer, Master," Bellatrix agreed with a little smile, buttoning up her blouse. She sighed and reached for her wand, and she declared, "Never have there been two people more in need of Scouring spells. Scourgify."

Author's Note: Cold shower, anyone? Okay, so Yaxley's in power and Lucius is primed to kill Dumbledore. But will that go smoothly? Yes, no, maybe so? We'll see!