Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Voldemort tossed and turned. He had taken over the bed in which Wormtail used to sleep, and poor Wormtail had been forced onto the couch in the other room. Nagini lay at the foot of what was now her Master's bed, watchful as ever, though Voldemort did not need her protection anymore. She was disturbed, however, by his unrest.
The Dark Lord's dreams – or were they nightmares? – tormented him, drove into him the many ways he had failed at killing Harry Potter. His mind kept replaying that damn connection their wands had made. Why had they done that?
To make matters worse, Bellatrix Lestrange lingered in his dreams as well. She wanted to be his servant in a way he no longer wanted. Or did he want it? This indecisiveness would perhaps drive him mad.
She came to him in her tatty, ugly prison uniform, torn just above her left breast. His eyes lingered there for a moment, wishing the hole were bigger, but he forced himself to look down at the floor and clenched his fists. She thought he was only angry about the Potter fiasco. Of course, that made him furious. But there was something else. Something that nagged him, besides that alluring tear in her uniform.
As he had undressed himself that night (finally, he could do it alone), he thought of Bellatrix. The bed was large enough to fit another person; he thought of the nights Bellatrix had kept him company in his bed, though he did not need her company for the entire night. He only needed her for one thing – no, not needed – he just wanted her for the one thing. But that was a long time ago. He knew he was stronger now, not quite human. He didn't need or want her. And the nights he had allowed her to sleep with him… well, he was doing her a favor, giving her a reward for being at his every beck and call. He did not care at all where she slept. She could have gone crawling back to her boring husband, freshly filled with my seed, and I couldn't have cared less, he had told himself. His last thought before falling into this disturbed sleep.
In his dream, Bellatrix had tried to kiss him. The blood dripping down the side of her face moments later, right after he hit her, was undoubtedly beautiful. Stubborn, she tried it again, but he couldn't hit her again. Not yet. He was too busy admiring the way the blood dripped from her temple down her cheek, crossing her lovely jaw line; it was rather arousing. Arousing? This thought angered him more, and he hit her again when she made another move.
Her blood did nothing but make him crave her more. "Get out of my sight," he said, not only to her, but aloud in his sleep.
Nagini crept into bed with him, wishing to comfort him somehow. He woke with his hand on her, stroking her softly.
If snakes could purr…
