In white, Bellatrix felt horribly conspicuous. All the other Death Eaters, hooded and robed in black, blended together into a sea of indiscernible figures. And she, Bellatrix, stood out from them far more than she would have liked.

"My faithful followers," the Dark Lord said, addressing the circle of men, "tonight, we welcome one more to our number."

He laid a hand on the small of Bellatrix's back, and drew her forward, so that she was standing very, very close to him. Almost uncomfortably close, Bellatrix thought, given that so many eyes were on them. She fought to keep her expression still and proud.

"Nott," the Dark Lord said, looking to one of the hooded figures. "Bring forward the muggle."

Bellatrix watched in equal parts horror and fascination as the circle of Death Eaters parted, and Nott dragged someone forward. It was a woman, blindfolded and gagged, wrists tied behind her back, clothed only in a simple grey shift. Nott flung her to the ground at the centre of the circle, and retreated, wiping his hands against the front of his robes as though he had touched something dirty. Which he has. A muggle.

"Bellatrix." The Dark Lord's voice was soft in her ear. "She is yours. Do with her what you will. Show us what muggles deserve."

Bellatrix slowly raised her wand to point at the muggle. Her hand trembled – just slightly, but enough for the others to see. There was a whisper from one of the Death Eaters – "Woman. Should have known she wouldn't be able to."

Fury welled in Bellatrix's throat, and she slashed her wand through the air. The spell hit the muggle, and she screamed through the gag, her body convulsing and contorting under the curse. Bellatrix lifted it, and stepped forward, tearing the gag off the woman's mouth. She wanted to hear her scream.

And scream she did, with every curse that Bellatrix hurled her way, screamed and begged for mercy, and screamed more, all the while twisting and bending and spasming in a way that made Bellatrix's breath short. The Dark Lord, at Bellatrix's side, was watching her with something like pride, and Bellatrix fancied she saw lust in his eyes too, as he looked from the writhing muggle on the ground to Bellatrix, the source of the pain.

Bellatrix shifted slightly. Seeing the body writhing on the ground was more than enough to arouse her, and glancing at the Dark Lord, which she did every few moments to be sure that she was doing the right thing, only elevated her lust. She felt quite delirious.

"Enough."

The Dark Lord spoke simply, and Bellatrix lowered her wand, looking at him hopefully.

"Kill the muggle, Bellatrix," he said, and Bellatrix nodded. "Avada Kedavra!"

She went limp, and Bellatrix felt a surge of pride. She looked around triumphantly at the Death Eaters, and at her Master, swelling with pride at having killed her first muggle so easily. He nodded, approval clear in his expression.

There was a cough from one of the Death Eaters, and everyone turned to look.

"My Lord," said Nott, "I am curious as to… as to how the festivities shall proceed from here…" He coughed again. "How will a woman…"

Bellatrix felt suddenly uneasy. She wished the Dark Lord had explained to her beforehand what the ceremony would entail.

"Ah, yes." The Dark Lord smiled slightly. "Thank you for addressing the matter, Nott. You see, Bellatrix, the ritual generally involves the Death Eater… having his way with the body, shall we say. Of course, your gender makes that…" he trailed off suggestively, and Bellatrix felt herself flush.

"Give the body to Rodolphus, then!" she said, drawing herself up as tall as she could and forcing her voice not to betray any of the embarrassment she felt at having her sex brought to such obvious attention. "He needs it more than I would, in any case."

There was an eruption of laughter from the Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord smiled at Bellatrix once again, signalling that she had done the right thing.

"Rodolphus," he said, turning to the Death Eaters. Rodolphus stepped out, lowering his hood so his face could be seen in the moonlight. Bellatrix knew he was trying his hardest not to show emotion, and she couldn't hold back a wild grin. She was enjoying the way in which she could sting Rodolphus with her words and actions more by the minute.

"Yes, my Lord?" Rodolphus said.

"Take the body. Consider it a gift from your wife."

Rodolphus coloured, but he clenched his jaw, and scooped the limp muggle's form, dragging her away, out of the ring of Death Eaters.

"Now, Bellatrix," said the Dark Lord, no longer interested in Rodolphus, "as you have declined to take your pleasure from the corpse, we must… use a variation of the marking ritual."

"What sort of variation, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked.

"Nothing you will object to, Bella." He flicked his wand, and Bellatrix's body bent against her will. She found herself forced to her hands and knees upon the ground, and she had the distinct feeling that she knew how this "variation" of the ritual was going to play out.

Bellatrix felt the night air against the backs of her thighs, and knew her skirt was being rolled up, and, though she knew she should feel nothing but shame, being bared here before all these men, she felt a thrill of excitement rush through her. Yes, oh yes…

The Dark Lord's cool fingers were between her legs, and she shifted, opening her legs slightly to give him easier access.

He thrust into her, and Bellatrix forced herself to be silent. Much as she loved being watched as the Dark Lord took her, here, before all his followers, she didn't much fancy them being able to see all the reaction she had to the Dark Lord. She didn't want these men to see her writhing, or moaning, or begging, or coming…

But keeping silent was an impossible task. The Dark Lord had brought her so close earlier that night, and torturing the muggle had made her wild with anticipation, and now…

Bellatrix bit her lips to keep from crying out as the Dark Lord worked at her. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she tried to remember why she didn't want to show her pleasure. All the men, all watching me…

It didn't matter, and Bellatrix felt herself tighten. Her back arched, and she let out a sharp cry. She forgot that she was being watched, forgot this was all part of a ritual, forgot everything but her own pleasure. And in the throes of her climax, she heard the Dark Lord groan softly, and felt him spill inside her.

He pulled out, and Bellatrix collapsed to the ground, panting. It took several long minutes for her vision to straighten out and her head to clear, and then she sat up, looking around. The Dark Lord was already on his feet, and he had his wand pointed at her. Bellatrix felt a peculiar sensation spread through her – a flush of heat, a strange tingling, and then pain, pain like the Cruciatus curse, but more so. She fell back on the grass, body convulsing. Her left forearm seared, and she cried out, from pain this time. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, everything stopped. Bellatrix lay for a few minutes, braced for the pain to return, then slowly opened her eyes.

Her robes had turned from white to black, and the Dark Mark blazed raw on her arm.