Chapter 9: Love's A Hard Game To Play
(LOLdemort)
"A Halloween Ball? We're having a...Halloween Masquerade Ball?"
"Yes. The Annual Death Eaters' Ball. We held a rather nice one on Halloween last year, but you were spying for us and didn't have the good fortune to be able to attend." Voldemort watched Snape's face twitch oddly around as his mouth as it curved upwards and then down again at the creases.
"But...my Lord...pardon my asking, but why have one at all?"
"A Ball does surprisingly good things for morale. And we've had a lot to celebrate over this past year...much of which, came to us at your hand...which is why I have a very special assignment for you regarding the Ball." Voldemort honored Snape's question with an answer not only because he recognized the strangeness of the Death Eaters having a party celebrating anything, but also because he had something important to order of him and required his utmost cooperation.
"Yes, My Lord?"
"Ask Bellatrix to attend with you. As your date for the evening." If Severus Snape's expression had been difficult to read before, that was nothing compared to the changes affixing it now. The corners of his mouth twitched again and the downward crease deepened along with his eyebrows until the rest of his face seemed to follow suit until Snape was positively scowling.
"Pardon me, My Lord...but is this quite necessary? You know I find Bellatrix Lestrange to be rather...repulsive...And that's speaking lightly."
"Bellatrix actually hosted our Halloween Ball at Lestrange Manor with Rodolphus last year and they did a surprisingly good job with it. The theme was Monsters and Madness, I believe..."
"Who's holding it this year?"
"Narcissa and Lucius here at Malfoy Manor, for convenience sake, since the Manor already has all our secrecy enchantments around it."
Voldemort did a quick mental scan of his physical body to see if anything felt different since he said Narcissa's name. Nearly everything he'd been reading told him there'd be some kind of visceral reaction-a skipped heartbeat, a turn of his stomach, a smile he couldn't control...but he didn't feel anything except maybe a little bit hungry. Maybe that was just a muted version of what was supposed to be happening.
Severus Snape's eyes narrowed in sudden understanding.
"You have an ulterior motive for going all out with this Ball, don't you, my Lord? Something regarding the prophecy."
"Clever as ever, Severus. If you recall the Seer's most recent prophecy, then you know I must have taken a Dark Lady by May of this coming new year."
"Yes...Any luck in deducing who the prophecy might be about?"
"I think it might be Narcissa Malfoy. And what better place than a Ball to try to confirm it." He'd read it first in Ten Thousand Fool Proof Ways to Find Love, but the sentiment had presented itself in other pieces of literature as well once he knew what to look for. One should strive for balance in love: Your love should be the light that brightens your own darkness.
If he was looking for a love that was light in any kind of darkness, then he couldn't consider Bellatrix at all. Two evils couldn't create love. Only more chaos. He couldn't right well find someone on their side anyone would consider good but Narcissa was as close as he was going to find under such short notice.
As September chilled to October, Voldemort had been ignoring Bellatrix and had given no mention since their dinner in August about her helping him with anything, but lately he'd seen no harm in being more conventionally warm to her-with no explanation, even sometimes letting her sit at his right-hand at Death Eater meetings. All the while, he'd been trying to discern any heightened reactions to her younger sister. He was getting impatient. He'd put everything aside for this and was even begininning to doubt it wasn't just a hoax from the other side to keep him from getting the Elder Wand and defeating the Boy Who Lived once and for all.
"Why wouldn't you consider going with Bellatrix, my Lord?" Snape asked. "She does think...highly of you."
"Yes, I had thought of that. Which is precisely why I have ordered you to ask her to the Ball as your date."
"And meanwhile you're going to try to reason out if the prophecy is about Narcissa Malfoy's feelings towards you?"
"You sound like you have your doubts," said Voldemort and Snape instantly drew back and bowed.
"No, my Lord...I only meant...what about Lucius?"
"What about him?" Voldemort watched Snape pause and knew he was considering his words very carefully.
"I only think he won't take too kindly to seeing his wife with the Dark Lord much like Bellatrix won't take too kindly to seeing you with her sister." How could Snape think that he, Voldemort, hadn't considered that? Of course he hadn't planned on parading Narcissa under the noses of Lucius and Bellatrix on the night of the Ball. He meant only to meet with her privately and find out how she felt knowing that she was not the skilled Occlumens that her sister was.
"Besides, If I do love Bellatrix as you seem to think," Voldemort said, the word tripping over his tongue from a lifetime of disuse, "I, too, should feel something when I see her with you, should I not?
(Bellatrix)
"Bellatrix, we are holding a Halloween Ball here at this Manor in less than a week's time and I could really use your help...you said yourself that you were happy to see Lucius and I back in favor."
Bellatrix was sitting at the shiny white marble countertop in the center of Narcissa's kitchen in a long black day dress, watching her sister mold pink fondant in the shape of a brain around a red velvet cake Slinky the house elf had prepared.
"I did say something to that effect, yes." She said, twirling her wand between her fingers.
"Then won't you help me with this? You know I'm no good at Halloween, Bella."
Neither Narcissa or Bellatrix had spoken a word of Bella's intensely emotional moment a few weeks ago and they instead behaved as if the night had never happened. Bellatrix was pleased with this, as she never would have gotten over her embarrassment if anyone else ever found out that she: strong, tough, powerful Bellatrix Lestrange, had woken up crying in the night over a dream about being in love with the Dark Lord. She watched Narcissa's cake decorations start to take shape now and thought it was looking more and more like a pile of pink rope than a brain, so she Accio'ed it in her direction, causing it to slide across the countertop on its white-gold platter.
"Just let me do it," she said, taking hold of one one of the fondant ropes and molding it in between her fingertips. Narcissa looked relieved.
"Alright, so I think I've got food all taken care of…" she said, more to herself than to Bellatrix. "We'll have the tomato soup and bouillabaisse for appetizers...for entrees I've got the dragon tartare and the steak and kidney pie... and drinks are set, I'm just still working on all the desserts."
"And you decided on brain cake as one of them?"
Narcissa paled. "What? What's wrong with it? Too macabre?"
Bellatrix cackled at her sister's frustration."No, I'm just messing with you-I think it's wonderful."
"Oh, good. And you'll be making your chocolate pumpkins again, I presume?"
"No, I'm going to bring a tub of edible dark marks instead."
"Bella!"
"Relax, Cissy. Of course I've got the chocolate pumpkins." Bellatrix could only smile while Narcissa went on fretting, this time, about decorations. She couldn't wait to see the look on her little sister's face when she woke up the morning of the party with everything already decorated and appropriately spooky. Perks of having a sister who loved Halloween as much as Bellatrix did. She already had everything all planned out. Last year, she'd cleared the entrance hall of Lestrange Manor for the Monsters and Madness Ball and bewitched the ceiling to look like the full moon night sky outside, with one exception. The moon was enfused with essence of boggart and would occasionally take the shape of various party guest's worst fears throughout the night. She'd also enchanted the smoke from all the drink potions and hot soup carafes to take the shape of bony skeleton couples in wedding gowns and tuxedos, dancing amongst the guests, and Bellatrix had already had a whole year to think about how she was going to one-up it for this year's Masquerade theme.
"What about place settings for dinner, dear?" she reminded Narcissa gently.
"Oh shit...Well, I'm still waiting on the final count of who everyone is bringing...I've owled Severus twice now asking about his rumored plus one, but he hasn't gotten back to me." Bellatrix laughed so fully that she dropped the fondant rope she was holding.
"Really, Bella…" Narcissa turned around from where she was charming individual bundles of black and silver tulle to thread around each other.
"Please? That slimy git? Taking a date?"
She made eye contact with her sister and then they were both laughing, smiles wide, tears dangerously close to streaming down their faces.
"Imagine him...showing up to pick up his date the night of the ball, in what, the same robes he's been wearing for the past twenty-five years!"
"Well, he'll have to wear a Masquerade mask when he arrives, dear. Everyone will."
"As...long...as...I...don't...have...to...use...shampoo," Bellatrix said in her best impersonation of Snape's voice.
"What are we laughing about?" Narcissa grew stone-faced as Severus Snape himself strode into the kitchen, his long black robes billowing behind him as usual, his hair as greasy as ever. Bellatrix kept on howling with laughter, slapping the counter in front of her with the hand that wasn't holding the ball of fondant, thinking his sudden, perfectly-timed appearance made everything funnier. Really. Snape. On a date.
"Good afternoon, Severus, we were just-"
"Cissy says you're taking a date to the Halloween Ball!" Bellatrix exclaimed gleefully and Narcissa muttered something under her breath that sounded like "no tact, whatsoever." To her surprise, however, Snape didn't look offended at all. Instead, his lips curled into a very dry, almost creepy-looking smile. The kind she imagined he gave students who were about to fail their Potions O. .
"Funny that you should be the one to ask me about that, Bellatrix," he said, and she stopped laughing at once, her own grin sliding off her face.
"Why? Why is it funny?" She was starting to get a terrible feeling in the pit of her gut where such terrible feelings had a habit of residing. Anything that made Snape this happy, striding into Malfoy Manor in broad daylight on a Wednesday, could mean nothing good for anyone else.
"Because the Dark Lord has ordered that you be precisely the date I'm rumored to be taking." He was doing that weird "you've turned in late homework and I'm failing you" smile again and Bellatrix very seriously thought for a moment that she might throw up on him right there. In any case, she thought her jokes were funnier.
"Fucking Christ! Ew! No! You're joking...Cissy tell me he has to be joking…" She crinkled her face in magnified disgust and internally dared her sister say anything along the lines of this being a good idea. Just a couple of weeks ago, on the very night they wouldn't speak of, Narcissa had even suggested Bellatrix hook up with Severus on the account of their both being "lonely." Unfortunately, (or fortunately, as Bellatrix saw it) she and Snape had been in the same year in Slytherin at Hogwarts and as such had known each other a painfully long time and couldn't have had less chemistry together if they took love potion.
"Believe me," said Snape, his smirk fading and his face crinkling much like Bellatrix's was, "my reaction was shockingly similar to yours...but it's the Dark Lord's orders and certainly doesn't stem from any...desire...of mine." The magnitude of it hit Bellatrix like a stray Bludger during a Quidditch Match. The Dark Lord wanted...no...ordered...Snivellus Snake and Bellatrix go to the Halloween Ball together...and if the Dark Lord had ordered it, well...No...he couldn't have. It was all some horrible, disgusting joke.
"Is the Dark Lord here?"
"Yes, I expect he's up in his study," Narcissa replied, somewhat hesitantly. "...but Bella, maybe you should calm down a bit before you say or do something you'll regret-"
"No! If he really thinks he can set me up on dates and ruin my Halloween without asking me first, he deserves to see me angry!" She spat and stormed from the room, leaving Narcissa and Snape to stare after her incredulously, like they couldn't believe she would really go yell at the Dark Lord. Their reaction only served to make her more angry. Surely, if it was a joke, one or both of them would have stopped her before she left...which led her to believe maybe it was true after all.
The door to the Dark Lord's makeshift study was closed and Bellatrix glanced around for any sign of Nagini, his snake, who typically guarded the door of any room in which her Master worked. She didn't have much time to wonder, however, because the door swung open and the Dark Lord stood before her in the entrance way, with Nagini coiled around his neck.
"How did you know I was out here so quickly?"
"Really, Bellatrix. I could hear your throughts a floor below. You aren't even trying to cover them up-you're angry with me. Why?" His tone was surprisingly even and Bellatrix was cautious to take a deep breath and make sure the shroud around her mind was firmly back in place. Where would she be if he could see the other thoughts she often had of him?
"My Lord...Severus is here. He said something about...something about the Halloween Ball and I was just wondering-"
"Whether or not I had indeed ordered him to ask you to accompany him?" She panicked then, shutting her eyes and looking into her own mind to make sure the shroud was firmly in place, but to her astonishment, the Dark Lord chuckled.
"It's alright, Bellatrix. Your thoughts are secure, though very easy enough to guess at the present moment." When she didn't say anything, he went on. "Yes. I suppose I was expecting something like this. Very well...though I'd rather we go somewhere more private to discuss it...my home, perhaps?"
"You want me to go...with you?" The last time she'd been in his home, he'd been angry with her for getting lost and stumbling upon a dying rose kept curiously in a glass case and he'd ordered her out, she assumed never to return. And now he was inviting her back.
"Yes. And we'll have to side-along apparate, because just as with Hogwarts school, the enchantments to Slytherin's Manor are such that only the Secret Keeper can apparate within its walls."
The Dark Lord extended his arm and nervously, Bellatrix grabbed a loose hold of it. A shudder ran through her. They were touching. They were touching...and he wasn't yelling at her.
They apparated into a surprisingly cozy sitting room filled with warmth by a roaring fire in a slate stone fireplace. The walls of the very square room seemed to be all red, but they were adorned with shiny black woodwork and trim. As with many of the rooms in the Dark Lord's Manor, one wall was made up entirely of black bookcases set side by side and another wall was taken up by a large silver trimmed mirror. The only true light source in the room seemed to be the fireplace, because any other light came from the dim flickering of red candles dripping wax onto the bases of the black candelabras they'd been set in all around the room. The windows were, as was typical for the Manor, all covered by thick curtains, though these were not black vinyl like in the cave room, but crimson and silver paisley.
"Welcome to the Red Room, Bella."
Reluctantly, she let go of the Dark Lord's arm and took a seat on the only place there was to sit in the room, an old Gothic loveseat in front of the fireplace which was cushioned in pristine white and backed with a very dark wood that looked to be walnut, like her wand.
"May I get you something to drink?" The Dark Lord asked, his voice astoundingly tender.
"Do you still have that Cinnamon Fire Whiskey?" she asked and with a pop he was gone, presumably to go and get it, leaving Bellatrix alone in the Red Room in the meantime. She smoothed the creases in her dress nervously and craned her neck over the back of the loveseat so that she could look in the mirror, which fortunately, didn't try to talk to her. She thought she looked tired. Dare she even see it, wrinkled. Not like the Bellatrix she'd once been, but just as strong. No, stronger.
Pop! The Dark Lord was back, two goblets in his hand filled with a slowly steaming red liquid. He handed one to her and then with his own, he sat down beside her on the loveseat. Damn, this day was full of surprise. Not that there was anywhere else to sit...she thought dismally, but still. He could have conjured another chair. He could have stayed standing. But instead, he'd chosen to sit beside her in front of the fire.
"What is troubling you, Bella?"
Bellatrix frowned and took a long sip of her drink, letting the spice sting her throat on the way down. Since she'd been in Narcissa's kitchen, a good bit of her anger towards the Dark Lord has abated leaving her less frustrated than placidly curious.
"Why do I have to go to the Ball with Severus, my Lord? And if I do, why didn't you talk to me about it first?" As soon as the questions were out of her mouth, Bellatrix felt disgustingly juvenile. Certainly, the Dark Lord had to have more on his mind than who was taking who to a dance, and Bellatrix hadn't asked him about any of it.
She expected him to get angry, remind her that he was the Dark Lord and she was just a servant in no place to be questioning his orders, but he didn't. He just sighed quietly and took a drink from his own goblet. For the first time, she noticed that he looked as tired as she did, if not more so. His skin was waxy, like hot clay gathered in pouches underneath his eyes, which though normally ablaze with red fire, were today sunken and muddy-looking, like he hadn't slept or eaten well in days.
"Are...you...alright, my Lord?" He didn't answer her question at all. Instead, he turned towards her and cupped her chin in his hands, tilting her face up towards his own. "I know you're my best Death Eater, Bellatrix. Don't ever think I don't recognize your unwavering loyalty to me. I know you don't understand why doing this favor for me is important now, how could you, when I've offered you no explanation..but, nevertheless…"
"I'll do it," she said. And she meant it, too. I'll do it...for you. She closed her eyes, feeling only two things: the way her eyelashes tickled her skin like cobwebs, and her chin, weightless, in his hands. A chin. Yes, she had a chin. Slowly, she opened her eyes and searched until she found his, still so unusually vacant.
"You're truly a woman in a league of your own, Bella…" he whispered, letting go of her chin as he did so, one finger at a time.
"I'm not sure if you mean that as a compliment to me or not, my Lord."
"Neither am I." He picked up his drink and she left her face hanging there for just a few seconds, already preserving the memory of this one time he wanted to touch her. But now she really thought something had to be wrong. He was never this kind. To anyone, let alone to her. So she took a risk, thinking about what she often saw Narcissa do to Lucius when he was tired and downcast. She inched closer to the Dark Lord and he didn't move away from her. Very gently, she laid the side of her face against his shoulder so that her messy hair was brushing against his cheeks and she was coiling around him like Nagini. Again, he didn't move. Didn't react. He didn't put his arm around her...but he didn't push her away, either. She wondered briefly if he still smelled anything like Tom Riddle's shampoo...and he didn't. Probably because he doesn't have hair anymore, you stupid twat! she told herself and if he could hear her thoughts, he didn't let on.
They stayed like that for awhile, half sitting up and half lying down on the loveseat, until Bellatrix had finished her drink and was starting to feel her eyes getting heavy. She risked settling herself closer against the Dark Lord, feeling the warmth of the fire and his robes against her skin cover her like a blanket.
Bellatrix let her eyelids flutter once, twice, and then close as she succumbed to sleep and warmth and the smell of the ever-crackling fire.
"Bella," whispered a voice. A voice that was connected to someone who had an arm around her and a hand gently rubbing the space between her shoulders. She blinked open her eyes, not knowing how long she'd closed them for, and was immediately confronted with the reality that she'd fallen asleep using the Dark Lord as a pillow. She wriggled away from him, horrified, as far as she could get on the other side of the loveseat, bracing herself for his reaction.
"I'm so so sorry...my Lord…I didn't mean-"
"Bellatrix."
"My Lord, please, it'll never happen again...a serious lapse in my own judgment, I-"
"Bellatrix. Please. You may call me Voldemort." Her eyes widened as she cocked her head to one side, unsure if she'd heard him correctly.
"V...Voldemort," she said finally and he nodded. "Well, then, V...V...Voldemort. Why do you need to ask a favor of me?" He didn't reply right away and she thought maybe he was going to get angry with her for asking something that might not be her place, but he merely shut his eyes, absently rubbing his temples on either side of his forehead.
"We will talk more about it after the Ball. For now, though, you need to be going and I need to rest."
