AN: PLEASE NOTE (this will be exciting news for some of you, I'm sure, haha) that this chapter is definitely rated M for MATURE! That being said, I want to apologize for some of the fluff in this chapter. I just needed to satiate my need for a little happy!Belladolphus before I continue writing.. Oops.. I've said too much!

Also, I've updated my profile page to supply a list of dreamcasts that I've created for the characters. So if you want to place faces to names, feel free to check that out!

And, as always, reviews are welcome. They're so motivating! Thanks for all the positive and critical feedback I have received!

For now, C.

For the first month after she was born, Rodolphus was terrified to hold her. She was so perfect, so tiny. She was helpless and fragile and he knew that he was clumsy and unfamiliar. He watched his wife and wished vehemently that he could feel as confident in his new position as a parent as she did.

Ten little fingers and ten tiny toes and each one was absolutely perfect. She had bright blue eyes that she'd stolen from her father, and thick, dark lashes that were nearly as long as her mother's. She was an angel in the truest sense of the word, and there was no way she could belong to him.

He thought he'd understood love before. When he looked at Bellatrix - especially when she was unaware he was watching - and saw her small smile, the curve of her hip, and her beautiful reckless mind, he thought he knew. He thought that love was defined by focusing your soul's happiness on one being. By knowing that they were the other half of you.

He knew now how wrong her was. Love could also be so innate. It did not have to be harvested and carefully cultivated. It could appear in the blink of an eye and drown you in its crashing waves. Love did not have to mean tender touches and gentle whispers, caring so deeply for another that you could not survive without them. Love could also mean protecting someone with your entire life, knowing that you would never, not ever let anything harm them.

How he could love someone that he'd only known for such a short time escaped him. He didn't know why he stood at the corner of her crib until four in the morning, making sure her chest continued to rise and fall with each tiny breath. He was clueless as to what part of his brain made him spend each night slouched uncomfortably in the rocking chair at the corner of the nursery, if she should need him.

Bella fell in love with him all over again in these weeks, watching how he transformed in front of the child. He was her powerful, strong protector, who was an aggressive yet selfless lover, an adoring husband, and now a perfect father. She spent days upon days wondering how she'd gotten so lucky.

She walked into the nursery, a pink sunrise filtering in the windows that looked out over their estate. Bella slid her hands under the infant with the gentle, automatic touch of a mother. She nestled the tiny bundle close to her chest, kissing the thick, dark curls gently. She walked over, reaching out the stroke the stubbled cheek of the man slumped in the chair. "Roddy," she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

He stirred, grunting to acknowledge her presence but not yet opening his eyes. He reached out to her and she took his hand, lazily running her thumb over the calloused skin.

"You're going to be late for work," she murmured, dropping his hand as she ran her fingers through his hair. Motherhood had made her a softer person, it seemed. Her words were more careful, more gentle. She had developed a greater patience seemingly overnight.

The transformation was not one that Rodolphus was entirely happy with. He loved his selfish, reckless Bella who lived for the next margin of thrill and danger. He had married a warrior that could instill fear into the hearts of entire battalions with a single glare. And it was not that he did not love her any longer, but that she was different now. He wondered if it would be permanent, but his question was answered soon enough. By the time Catherine had turned one, Bella was very nearly back to her old self.

She sat perched in bed, reading through a letter her mother-in-law had sent that day. When Rodolphus entered, she put the letter aside, tossing it onto the bedside table. She smiled to herself as he ran a hand through his hair.

"She's finally asleep," he sighed happily as he walked toward the chifferobe. Bella watched him as he dug through the drawers, her eyes following each muscle as it flexed and relaxed. She stood, crossing towards him quietly. By the time he'd gathered his clothes and turned away from the dresser, she stopped him, her hands against his chest.

Without a word she started working on his buttons, biting her lip in a way that made him curse under his breath as she did. Her hands slid over his chest, fingers roving over the manifestation of power that she felt beneath her touch. They moved to his shoulders, sliding the shirt off of his broad frame as she moved closer, pressing her lips to his neck and pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses over his skin. Bella worked her way up, slowly but surely coming to kiss softly across his jaw and finally to his lips.

He'd tolerated her aching slowness and patient touches long enough. When her lips met his, he knotted his fist in her trusses greedily, holding her mouth to his. He slipped his tongue between her soft lips, flicking at the top of her mouth. His other hand pressed firm into the small of her back, closing any space that could have possibly existed between them.

In one deft movement, he scooped her up, his lips never once leaving hers, and deposited her on the bed. She had long since mastered the heavy lidded eyes and the sideways smirk that drove him insane. She ran her hands over his bare arms as he waited over her, watching his minx play him like a fiddle.

He straightened, his hands working eagerly at the belt on her silk robe. He pulled it open with strong, determined hands, and she was not at all surprised when the fabric shredded in his grasp. It was not the first article of clothing she'd lost to his lustful strength. "I'll buy you a new one," he growled, his hands guiding her to sit as he pulled the gown over her head.

He was pleased and excited to see that she was no longer wearing a brassière; one less piece of useless fabric for him to be worried with. She gasped as he kissed her chest, one hand kneading the inside of her thigh gently and using the other to prop himself over her. His pants felt small suddenly, and she could feel he was hard.

She sat up, nimble fingers roving over the belt and button quickly, pulling the zipper down with a swift movement. Bella grasped his waistband, removing both his pants and shorts in one turn. His erection sprung free, and she took it in her hand instantly. She kissed him as she slid her hand over the length, slowly at first but quickening her pace.

He groaned, a deep throaty longing as he reached between her thighs, grasping the thin scrap of fabric and snatching it away. She was already slick with want when he pushed into her, falling into an easy rhythm. Her fingers twisted into his hair, pressing her forehead into the curve of his shoulder as he pumped into her. Sweat beaded on his forehead, a moan escaping his throat when he felt her teeth pressing into his skin.

She whimpered as her muscles all began to tighten, her hips bucking into him. Her nails dragged down his back leaving bright read lines and a few sparse droplets of blood where she'd broken the surface. He could feel his strength fading as her moans grew louder. She felt her climax crash onto her suddenly, her walls fluttering around him and sending him over the edge as well.

He fell down next to her, never looking away from her face. She was the most beautiful with her hair damp, her skin flushed as she regained her breath. He savored every second that he saw her like that, with that thoroughly fucked grin on her face and her chest rising and falling rapidly. She rolled over after a moment, laying over him. "I love you," she said through sleepy kisses.

"Do you love me?" he asked with a grin. He buried his face in her hair, soft and sweet smelling. "Or do you just love that I can make you scream?"

"It's a perk," she laughed, resting her head against his chest. "We haven't had a night alone in a while," Bella noted as Rodolphus pulled the blankets over their bodies, his finger drawing absent minded patterns on her bare back. His eye were closed in contentment, thinking about the fact that he could lay with her like this forever and be just as content.

As if on a timer, a small cry echoed down the hall. They groaned for a moment, upset to be broken from their blissful reverie. "Your turn," Rod sighed, pulling a pillow over his head.

She raised her head, laughing. "No, no, no. It's your turn," Bella grinned. "You destroyed my clothes. You owe me."

Rodolphus agreed after a moment of silence, deciding that if getting to dote on his daughter was the only punishment for being able to ravish his beautiful wife, his life wasn't all that bad. He slipped on the pajama pants that he'd taken from the drawer earlier and walked down the hall, pulling the screaming tot into his arms when he reached her room.

He held her close to his chest, strong arms cradling her gently. He hummed softly, the notes of a song his mother used to sing to himself and Rabastan coming to his memory easily. When at last she'd quieted, he placed her gently back in the crib, tucking the blankets around her. He watched her for a while, realizing in the wake of such an evening how dreadfully lucky he was.

He was one of the most sought after employees in the Ministry, his boss's favorite by far. He'd excelled in recent months and was sure to get that promotion next quarter. He had a spot in the Dark Lord's inner circle, a most enviable place in a spotlight he shared with his gorgeous wife who was everything he ever could have wanted in a partner: strong, intelligent, but still warm and madly in love with him. And to top it all off, there was a beautiful baby girl laying in the crib before him with his eyes and her mother's hair and everything about her was perfect.

When he returned to the room, Bella was inbetween consciousness and sleep, her lips parted slightly to allow short little breaths. He climbed into bed with her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she stirred and smiled sleepily at him. "Fuck," he cursed, bringing his lips to hers, unable to bridle the wave of affection that washed through him. "I love you so much, mia Belle."

She grinned widely, burying her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her close to him as she drifted back to sleep. He lay there for a moment, thinking, as he fell asleep, how amazing it was that he had loved this girl most of his life and that it only continued to grow. She'd turned from this reckless tomboy into a stunning woman and still never left his side. Life was funny.

"I don't know what it was," Bellatrix said, her voice sounding more frail than Ginny had heard it in quite some time. "But when she was around, she made us better. If she'd have lived, things might have been different."

"What do you mean, Bella?"

"We wanted her to have a good life, and we did everything we could to ensure that she did," she explained. "We adored her. It was amazing, what she did to us. I can speak for Rodolphus - rest his soul - as well, I know, when I say that we knew that we didn't deserve her. We knew without a doubt. She was an angel. A delicate little thing that was full of light and love for living. We didn't deserve to keep her. That's why she was taken from us."

"Mrs. Lestrange, you can't blame yourself for-"

"I've tried to rationalize it a dozen other ways, Ginevra, trust me. But I know why we lost Catherine." She flashed her eyes up, daring the redhead to interrupt her again. Her voice was smooth as silk, but definite, and it was easy to recognize that she was convinced the words she was speaking were fact. "Catherine died because we were terrible, terrible people. We didn't deserve love; we didn't deserve happiness."

Ginny was quiet, shocked into silence. She felt as though every muscle in her body was frozen, all the blood gone cold. She didn't know what to do with that information. She didn't know how to respond. She didn't know how to think.

"So you see why I have a hard time accepting my 'punishment'," she said, returning to her docile position, her voice relaxing, yet still very serious. "Prison isn't hurting me. I've paid for my sins, Ginny. I've paid in a way that no mother ought to ever have to pay."