Bellatrix sighed. She was pacing the hallways of the enormous Lestrange house, the click of her heels echoing in the cavernous rooms. She hadn't left in days, hadn't been allowed out, for her protection, Lestrange had said. A seething contempt boiled up in Bellatrix as she thought of her husband, parading about the Ministry, commanding the other Death Eaters imperiously as though he were the Dark Lord's right-hand man. And Bellatrix had been held captive here, in this catacomb, unable to contact Him, to gather any information from the outside, when it was she in whom her Lord had confided. It was she who was His most loyal servant, it was she who would do anything for Him, had done anything, it was she who had to suffer the nauseating indignity of Rodolphus thrusting into her night after night.

She had no feeling for Lestrange, when he was present she hardly took notice of him. She knew her indifference only stoked his brutal, inelegant lust for her, but she could not bear to speak to him unless the situation demanded it. She had endured his attention these long months silently, thinking of Him, how He would reward her so fully, so perfectly, how He would allow her to return to Him, to sit at his side once more.

Perhaps He will allow me to kill Rodolphus when it is over.

The thought warmed Bella slightly.

Far across the house she heard the heavy slam of a door and the measured footsteps and silver clinking against stone that signified her husband had returned. Bellatrix shuddered, inhaled deeply, and walked through the maze of corridors until she arrived in his room.

"Bella, my darling," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Bella turned away quickly and his lips pressed against her hair.

"Rodolphus."

"Busy day around the Ministry. They're starting to pull our people in for questioning."

Bella didn't listen. She was turning away from him, leaving the room, anger burning in her breast.

"Will you have the elves prepare something for supper, Bella?"

Bellatrix froze.

She pivoted slowly back to Lestrange. "Will I what?" she hissed poisonously.

"Just anything. Quite busy," he rifled through a stack of papers on his desk. "The Dark Lord has asked me to look at some--"

Her rage exploded in a white-hot cataclysm. "You arrogant, weak, inferior little puppet!" she shrieked. "How dare you think you are clever enough, talented enough, devoted enough to even say His name?" Her wand was out, shooting deep red sparks around the room. They left small, smoking patches where they landed. "You prance around the Ministry, you hand out code words to nobodies, you pass out information that I have given you, information, plans directly from Him, you pretend you are his equal," she spat, flames beginning to lick up the walls, "and I, whom the Dark Lord holds in higher regard than anyone, I am left here like a bitch to her pups, playing house for you, preparing your supper, when I am dying, Lestrange, I am dying without Him."

Rodolphus glared at her. "It's for your protection, Bellatrix. They know who you are, what you are. As long as you are in this house you are safe."

"As long as I am in this house I am nothing!" she screamed. She pointed her wand at him. "You will let me go, Lestrange," she said, her voice suddenly low and deadly. "I am going to Him."

"You are not, Bella," Rodolphus replied evenly.

"I am!" She raised her wand. "Crucio!"

Rodolphus howled as Bellatrix's curse hit him. His body shook, his eyes rolled, he cried out in agony until Bella dropped her wand and he slumped to the floor, twitching.

"I am, darling," she spat at his prone body.

As she strode back to her chamber she felt the hot rush of her blood beginning to pool low in her belly. Her power, her strength, the raging maelstrom of rage within her fed the arousal blossoming deep in her body. She had done it, she had proven her dominance, she had proven to Lestrange that she was not a quiet, meek, compliant wife, that she was stronger, so much stronger than he was. Her Lord would be so pleased . . .

My Lord, oh, my Lord, I am coming to you.

She pulled her cloak around her shoulders, clasping it tightly. Her fingers brushed the bright red stone set in the silver buckle, and fissures of liquid heat split down her body. The girl. The Mudblood. Bellatrix had not seen the girl since before her marriage, not since she had taken her to that pitiful, filthy house. Desire for the girl swelled in Bella, the desire to find her, to take her, to make her choke and shudder and worship Bella, to make the girl understand her power.

Bellatrix brushed her fingers over the stone again. We are caught up in blood, girl. We make promises like cups to carry it.

As she drew the long hood over her hair, pulling it down low to mask her face, she let a low, hungry growl drift over her lips. The dark, tingling, exquisite waves of passion still pulsed through her, amplified by thoughts of what she would do with the girl, to the girl, before joining her Lord, before feeling the intoxicating, overwhelming force of His power crushing her, suffocating her, choking her once again.

Bellatrix drew her wand as she walked to the front door. She did not know what kinds of traces the Ministry had put on her, what kind of traps they had laid for her, but she did not worry. Glancing briefly at the still-motionless form of her husband collapsed on his bedroom floor she smiled, wide, sharp, lethal. Dim candlelight flickered on her mouth as she ran her tongue over her lip, as she delicately licked at her straight, sharp teeth.

I am stronger than any of them. They cannot stop me.

She swept out the door, walking quickly down the darkening street. She would go to the Mudblood, would take her away again. They would go to her Lord together, Bellatrix would present the girl to Him, show Him how good the girl was, how loyal. But first—

In a matter of moments Bellatrix stood before the Evans house. The lights were on inside, the cool summer air ruffled the leaves on the trees in the yard. Bellatrix stood in the street watching the dark forms of the inhabitants moving about the house. She brushed the stone clasp, and immediately an upstairs light flicked on.

Inside, Lily had been feigning illness to escape another endless night with her family. The school year had been bearable, there had been opportunities for escape, but summer meant she was surrounded by people day and night. She had taken to going to bed early under the pretense of looking over old books, getting a jump on studying for her final exams. Most nights she lay in bed, clutching her red stone, longing for Bella.

Tonight, though, as her fingers brushed its textured, glossy surface it began to burn and pulse so powerfully that she had to shield her eyes. A sudden stab of pain wrenched at her arm and she tore at her sleeve, not believing that it could be—that it was—

The B glowed brightly against her skin. It was on fire, it was ripping at her, it was agony, she is here she is here she is here.

A knock downstairs. Her father opening it. "Oh hello, young lady, are you a friend of Petunia's?"

"Your other daughter, actually."

It was her, it was her, it was her, that low liquid honeyed poisonous voice, oh it was her, yes, my love, my Mistress, yes.

Lily shot upright in her bed for a moment, then yanked her sleeve down and bolted down the stairs. "Visitor, Puddle," her father said and ruffled her hair. Lily couldn't hide her revulsion, pushed past him nearly knocking him down, and burst into the entryway.

Bellatrix stood on the step, shrouded in black, her luminous skin, the bright beacons of her eyes, the luscious red purse of her lips, she was there, she was real and Lily couldn't help flinging herself to the ground at Bella's feet, pressing her head to her lover's thigh.

Her father had come back into the room and was staring, shocked, at his daughter on the ground clutching at the skirts of a very beautiful woman. She looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn't put his finger on it, something about her purple eyes, her gaunt face, but she was very beautiful, yes, Mr. Evans felt himself drifting away from his body as he stared into the woman's eyes, her lips moving faintly, Lily breathing heavily at her knees, he couldn't understand why his daughter would be doing that, clinging to her like a drowning girl, and the woman was reaching down, was cupping Lily's face, stroking her cheek—

"What's going on, love? Who is it?" His wife appeared in the doorway next to him. "Lily? Lily, what are you--" she stopped abruptly, as bewildered by the sight as her husband.

"The girl is mine," Bellatrix said coolly. "Many thanks for looking after her." She withdrew her wand. The Evanses were immobilized with shock, fear blooming on their faces. "It's you," Mrs. Evans whispered. "You're the one Dumbledore warned us about."

"Dumbledore," Bellatrix sneered. "Always blowing things out of proportion. Stupefy!"

A red jet of light struck Mrs. Evans, who clutched at her husband's hand before falling to the ground, eyes wide.

"Mr. Evans," Bella said calmly, "your daughter and I are leaving you now." He was motionless, staring slack-jawed at his inert wife. "Confundo," she said almost casually, over her shoulder, as she lifted Lily and walked her out the door.

Lily took a few trembling steps before collapsing against Bella's body her body, her blood, I can feel her blood in me, it is singing, it is you, oh Bella, Bella I love you and moaning low in the hollow of her throat.

"The Muggles are not injured," Bellatrix said dismissively. "They will believe her collapse was unrelated to you, and that you left to visit friends."

"I don't care," Lily murmured. "I don't care, Bella, Mistress, I don't care about them. Take me away from them, they are killing me."

"Yes, pet," Bella crooned softly, stroking Lily's hair. "We are returning to the Dark Lord."

Lily's knees buckled as Bellatrix's voice swirled lovingly around the words. The rich velvet sound rolled over her, seeping in her mouth, her nose, filling her, inflaming her. Bellatrix's body, her hands on Lily, the perfume that drifted from her skin made Lily so weak, so helpless, so needy, desperate, made her writhe despite herself, when Bella was near Lily's brain was fogged, all she could do was feel and taste, when Bella was near Lily was blank, empty aching, her body crying out to be filled with her lover.

Bellatrix pushed Lily back to standing and took her by the arm. "Not yet, Mudblood," she murmured. "Soon."

They vanished into the descending night, moving swiftly down deserted streets and twisting through heavily shadowed alleys to the cold, empty Floo station. Bellatrix was leading Lily to a hearth when the girl couldn't stand it any longer. "Bella," she groaned, pulling at her hand. Bellatrix shivered at the raw lust, the palpable hunger radiating from the girl, and allowed herself to be led into a shrouded corner, masked by an enormous marble pillar blackened by soot and ash.

Lily did not think. She acted automatically, the intensity of her desire controlling every move she made. She grasped Bella around the waist and pushed her up against the wall, Bella's hot breath on her cheek, she unclasped Bella's cloak, let it slide to the ground, she ran her tongue lightly from the hollow between her lover's breasts, up her throat, pushing her mouth against Bella's, pushing her body against Bella's, pressing her hard against the wall, pinning her arms over her head, kissing her lips, her jaw, her throat, tugging at Bella's earlobe between her teeth, forcing her knee between Bella's legs, driving it hard against her sex, making Bella jerk against the wall, both her wrists held up by Lily's hand, her free hand pushing Bella's skirt aside, searching for her center, Bella crying out harshly, her eyes closed, head back, biting her lip as Lily slid her hand deep inside her, still balancing Bella's body on her knee, Bella's leg wrapped around hers, Bella's fingers flexing hard against Lily's grip, Bella pushing down on Lily's hand, rocking against her, Bella twisting on Lily's fingers, arching her back, whimpering, keening, bucking her hips, Lily biting at the cool white skin of her throat, her collarbones, her breast, not thinking, fucking Bella, Bella allowing Lily to fuck her, to dominate her, to control the sensation, to shove her against a wall to pin her to a wall in a deserted station to take her without permission, oh Bella yes yes yes yes yes and Bella arched up, out, pushing twisting shuddering her body, thrusting hard, crying out wordlessly as she exploded for Lily.

For me.

Only after Bellatrix stopped trembling did Lily release her hands. She did not withdraw her fingers from Bella's body, she did not lower her knee and allow Bellatrix to stand firmly on the ground. Lily's hand was at Bella's waist, she gazed into Bella's eyes, their swirling indigo depths.

Bella was silent except for her ragged breathing. She looked at the girl for a long moment, then leaned forward, rocking slightly against the fingers still inside her, whispered, her voice quaking, uneven, in Lily's ear.

"I could kill you for that, cunt."

Instead, she held Lily's face in her hands and kissed her roughly. She bit wildly at Lily's lips, she pierced Lily's flesh and the warm bloom of blood spilled over both their tongues. Lily shifted her hand, sliding it up and down slowly as Bellatrix sucked at her, Lily's arm sliding around Bella's waist, pulling her more firmly onto her knee, lifting Bella's body, lowering it slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Bella murmuring in her ear, her breath growing rapid, shallow, she lifted her leg and locked it tightly around Lily's waist, tangled her fingers in Lily's hair, pulling hard, their bodies swaying together, Bella's incoherent whispers coming faster and faster, Lily's fingers pushing into her body, stroking her core, Lily possessing Bella, making her come, making her gasp, making her head fall back, her fingers twist painfully in her hair, Lily leaned down and ran her tongue again over Bella's throat, leaving a thin crimson line.

"You won't kill me, Bella," she murmured. "I love you."

"Yes, girl," Bella sighed, slowly untangling herself. She gasped lightly as Lily withdrew her fingers, her eyelids fluttered as Lily gently brushed a wild lock of hair from her face. They stood for a moment, still wrapped in darkness, Bellatrix's luminous eyes burning Lily to her core, Lily's blood rushing furiously through her body, crying her name in that beautiful mixing, swirling voice.

Bellatrix watched the girl as she straightened her cloak, bent low to the ground to retrieve Bella's. When Lily raised her face again Bellatrix pulled her arm back and struck her hard.

"Never think you control me, bitch," Bella hissed. "I am your mistress. Anything you do is done because I have allowed it."

"Yes, Mistress," Lily moaned, a thin trickle of blood issuing from her nose.

Bellatrix fastened her cloak tightly around her throat once more. Lily turned away, moving out into the dim light of the station, when Bellatrix grabbed her arm from the shadows and drew her back in. She cupped Lily's face softly, her eyes searching the girl's. "Do not turn away from me, Mudblood," Bellatrix purred. "It is a dangerous thing to do." She slid her hands under Lily's cloak, brushing her nipples, sending bolts of liquid fire coursing through her body. Bella pressed her cheek to Lily's, her breath cool against Lily's skin, her hands drifting across Lily's body. "Filthy Mudblood whore." She flicked her tongue over the still-bleeding bite on Lily's lip. "Come girl. He is expecting us."

She pulled Lily into one of the countless deserted hearths and dropped a handful of powder. As the green fire swallowed them, Lily shivered and clutched tightly at Bella, her lover responding by taking her finger between her lips and biting down.