"So, if you look at this ledger, Master, you can see that we now have monthly income from twenty-one families," Cygnus Black was saying. Voldemort nodded numbly. Cygnus pointed to a line on the ledger and said, "Here you can see that we've increased the Yaxleys' monthly contribution from thirty to forty Galleons."
"Mm-hmm." Voldemort sipped from his glass of red wine. He felt woozy; was this his third glass? Fourth? He'd been drinking since before Cygnus and Druella had arrived. The hours until midnight, until nighttime the next day, seemed to be moving by at a snail's pace.
"We'll go ahead and set up automatic monthly withdrawals and deposits, then," Abraxas Malfoy said, nodding. "The goblins at Gringotts don't ask why; they only need all the proper documentation. So long as we have the right permission from these twenty-one families, then the goblins will ensure that monthly contributions are moved from their vaults into your vault, Master. From there, you can delegate funds as you see fit."
"All right." Voldemort swigged down the rest of his glass of elf-made wine, and it refilled itself, as he'd asked Dobby to have it do. Cygnus frowned deeply as Voldemort put his head in his hands. Abraxas gave Voldemort a knowing look, but Cygnus asked,
"Master, are you… are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Voldemort lied. He shut his eyes. What was he meant to say? Actually, Cygnus, the trouble is that my body is very well aware that, twenty-four hours from now, I'm going to be peeling your daughter's clothes off of her. Something I've been aching to do for months.
"Master," Abraxas said quietly, "I think Druella and Bellatrix went up to the dance studio so that Bellatrix could do another piece from Starlina. Did you want to -"
"No." Voldemort shook his head, his eyes still shut. He couldn't watch her dance right now. If he did, he would snatch her right off of the floor and take her against the wall, in front of everybody. His heart began to race where he sat, and he murmured, "I apologise, gentlemen. I've not slept well in a few days. I've been troubled."
That was not altogether untrue; he'd spent the last few nights frantically touching himself and panting up at the ceiling, knowing she was right beneath him, knowing she was still sixteen. He picked up his glass of red wine and drank deeply, all the way until it was empty, and he slammed the glass down on the desk. He stood quickly and said,
"I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Cygnus, I hope your suite is comfortable. I'm sure Abraxas will make you feel at home. Goodnight, gentlemen."
As he moved quickly out of his office, leaving Abraxas and Cygnus behind, he heard them say in confused voices,
"Goodnight, Master."
"Bellatrix, you are shaking like a leaf. Darling, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Mum," Bellatrix lied, setting down her teacup with a clatter. The night before, midnight had come and gone without any ceremony. She'd watched the minute hand on her wall clock go from 11:59 to 12:01, and nothing had happened. She hadn't changed. She hadn't become an adult in that moment. But she was legally able to be touched by him now, in ways that hadn't been allowed before. She was of age. She could train properly; he could take her body.
She had slid her fingers into her knickers at 12:03 and had whispered for him. Master. The word had hissed through the air like steam, and when she'd come, she'd imagined that he'd been in the bed with her, touching her, kissing her, hard for her. She'd known that he must be awake, exactly above her, and she'd wanted to scream out in hopes that he might hear her. But instead she'd just stared up at the ceiling, up at his floor, and she'd whispered every now and then for him. Master. I am yours now.
Only, because her parents had come to celebrate her birthday, she couldn't be alone with him until later tonight. Somehow, this last day of waiting was managing to be worse torture than the last three months. For weeks upon weeks, they had waited. Through kisses and fondling, they had restrained themselves. They had left their clothes on even when instinct had shrieked to rip everything off. They had held back. But now, in these last hours, Bellatrix felt like a powder keg about to explode. She wrenched her eyes shut where she sat, and her mother asked,
"Are you unwell, Bella?"
"No, Mum," Bellatrix whispered. She opened her eyes and shook her head firmly. "No. I'm fine."
Druella looked confused, and then she asked, "Are you anxious? Has something about your birthday got you anxious?"
Bellatrix gulped hard, trying to think of something to throw her mother off her scent. "It's just that I'm allowed to do some magic now. I don't want to accidentally use a forbidden spell and get myself into trouble. I don't want to go mucking things up. Not when it's all going so well. That's all."
Druella nodded knowingly and cut a bite of her omelette. "Oh, yes, dear. That makes sense. I'm sure the Dark Lord will see to it that you use your magic wisely. He is handling all of this with such aplomb. You are in much better shape than I have ever seen you. We know you must be devastated not to be at school, dear, but -"
"No. I'm not." Bellatrix almost growled that bit, and Druella looked surprised. Bellatrix set her knife and fork down and said,
"They made up horrid rhymes about me. They hissed when I walked by in the corridors. They said no one would ever marry me, that a wizard would be too afraid to get murdered in his sleep. They booed me at the talent show. That Mudblood girl calling me a bitch in McGonagall's lesson was just the last straw. I'd had enough, Mum."
"You are in danger of losing your temper, Bellatrix," Druella said tightly, and Bellatrix hit the table with her hand as she snarled,
"No! You must understand. That place was toxic. They didn't understand me there! They didn't understand that I -"
"Sorry to interrupt."
She whirled over her shoulder at the sound of Voldemort's voice. He'd appeared in the dining room doorway, and he gave Bellatrix a meaningful look. He had bags under his eyes and seemed either sleep-deprived or hungover. Both, probably, given how drunk he'd seemed the night before when he'd gone up to bed early. He drummed his fingers on the doorway and told Bellatrix,
"Couldn't help but hear you getting a little over excited, Bellatrix. Watch the anger, if you please. The last thing you need is accidentally throwing out a jinx on your birthday."
"Yes, sir." Bellatrix folded her hands in her lap, and Druella nodded as Voldemort walked off down the corridor.
"You see?" she said to Bellatrix. "See? You do need to be here. With him. He is good for you, Bella."
"Yes," Bellatrix agreed, glad they could find common ground at last. "Yes. He is."
A few hours later, everyone had gathered in a parlour to give Bellatrix her gifts, which felt profoundly embarrassing. Bellatrix wasn't one to be the centre of attention, but here she was, sitting in a wicker chair with everyone gathered round her. She smiled weakly as Abraxas Malfoy handed her a large box, and she mumbled,
"I feel like I should be giving you the gift, Mr Malfoy."
"On the contrary, Miss Black; your presence warms the household," he said kindly. That was funny, Bellatrix thought; she'd never been accused of being warm. But Abraxas said, "And you can thank Aeta for this; she sent it all the way from Wales."
"Did she? How very kind." Bellatrix opened up the box and gasped a bit at the heavy, beautifully knitted dark grey shawl with its tortoiseshell button.
"Is that a Welsh style wrap?" breathed Druella. "Oh, that Aeta. She was always so good with knitting charms. I'll bet she made that all on her own."
"She did. She says it's for the coming autumn and winter," Abraxas said. Bellatrix marveled not only at the knitwear, but at the way that Abraxas and Aeta Malfoy somehow managed to be so amiable to one another even in separation. She thanked Abraxas as profusely as she could, and then she opened a box from her parents.
"Oh! New pointe shoes. Thanks, Mum. Thanks, Dad." Bellatrix smiled warmly at them, and Druella insisted,
"We know they wear out quickly. There's another box with new tights and leg warmers and leotards, but you can open that later."
"Well, thank you," Bellatrix said. She felt her stomach flop then, for Voldemort was approaching her chair and handing her a little box, a small rectangle, and she shook her head up at him.
"N-No, Master," she mumbled. "You don't have to… you didn't have to…"
"Thank you," he corrected her with a smirk, and she finally nodded and whispered,
"Thank you."
He sat back down, looking a little anxious as he said, "It's actually a little bit of a joke. It's… erm… well, I'll explain when you open it."
Bellatrix was confused, and Abraxas Malfoy cocked up a brow at his master as if he knew something Bellatrix didn't. She ripped off the silver paper and put it in the rubbish bin beside her, and her fingers shook madly as she opened the small box.
"What is it?" Druella asked, and Bellatrix said curiously,
"It's a key."
"More specifically," Voldemort said, as though he were letting out a breath, "it is a key necklace. And if you look at the top of the key, you'll notice there's a compass. Go ahead and spin the dial on the compass."
Bellatrix frowned, but she did as he said. She pulled out the beautiful, ornately carved brass key and flicked at the black dial on the compass that had been carved into the top part of the key. The dial spun quickly, and when it slowed, it settled and aimed directly at Voldemort. She smiled up at him, and he shrugged.
"It'll always point you straight to your legal guardian," he said, quirking up half his mouth. "Not that that'll matter much when you're stuck here at the manor, but… you know."
Battle. Someday it might matter in a battle, if she was lost and couldn't track him down. Her eyes welled suddenly, and she was so overcome with emotion that she could hardly breathe. She just pulled the brass chain over her neck and touched at the key and nodded. She couldn't thank him; if she spoke, she'd cry, and she couldn't cry. Not right now.
Luckily, someone had the idea of playing charades, so they moved on to that. They had an uneven number, so Abraxas played with Druella and Cygnus, and Bellatrix played with Voldemort. Druella and Cygnus, it turned out, were not good at guessing, and poor Abraxas gesticulated wildly as a mountain troll whilst Bellatrix's parents repeatedly screamed that he was a pixie. When it was Voldemort's turn, he shook his head and mumbled something about a being a grown man making a fool of himself. He read his card out of the bowl, set it down, and raised his eyebrows at Bellatrix. Abraxas turned over the hourglass, and Voldemort cleared his throat. He aimed his wand hand out and mimed the twisting action of casting a Memory Charm.
"You're Obliviating someone," Bellatrix guessed, and Voldemort nodded. He tapped at his head and then burst his fingers out and looked surprised. Bellatrix gasped. "You've had the idea of Obliviating someone. You've… you've invented Obliviating someone."
She was being urged on by Voldemort's grins and nodding, and she cried,
"Mnemone Radford!"
"How could you possibly get that right?" Abraxas Malfoy complained loudly, and Cygnus Black exclaimed,
"Oh, well done! My goodness; I should say your education certainly is continuing on track, Bellatrix."
Bellatrix thought that her mind simply worked well with her master's, but she didn't say that. They won the game easily, and by the time they went downstairs for dinner, everyone was in good spirits. But as she sat, she was tingling, thinking about what was going to happen in a few hours. She'd memorised the segment from the book, Witches and Wizards, about a witch's first time with intercourse.
'Pain and discomfort to varying degrees are perfectly normal during the first time one experiences intercourse. So, too, is a little bit of bleeding. However, the absence of bleeding does not mean one is not virginal, and the absence of pain simply means the body is exceptionally relaxed. To help avoid excess discomfort, take plenty of time to work your way up to penetration. As we say many times in this book, "The Wetter the Better." This is certainly true when it comes to your first time experiencing intercourse. Working the body up into the highest state of arousal possible will help ease the transition from foreplay into penetration. Just remember to cast your contraceptive charm before the fun begins so you can focus on enjoying yourself, and bear in mind that the second, third, and hundredth times having sex will likely be more fun and much easier than the first time. Practise makes perfect in many things, and sex is no exception.'
"Bellatrix?"
She looked up from her leeks in vinaigrette, only then realising she'd been completely lost in thought. Voldemort was holding up a flute of Champagne, and he gave her a tiny smile as he reminded her,
"You can have this now."
Her mouth fell open at that. She swallowed hard, knowing that he was referring to so much more than the Champagne. She picked up her glass, and he said in a voice she knew was feigning calm,
"I should like to propose a birthday toast to my ward," he said, and everyone grinned. He nodded and said sincerely, "Bellatrix. You made a mistake. But that mistake will probably wind up having been the best decision you ever made. I am proud of you. I am very happy. I wish you nothing but contentment. And now you are a woman grown. Now you are seventeen. Happy birthday, Bellatrix."
"Happy birthday, Bellatrix," said everyone else, and she stared at Voldemort as she sipped her Champagne. It was tart and biting, not what she was used to, and she only took a few sips before returning to her water. She could only stomach a bite of the leeks before her fluttering belly rejected more. She thought she was going to pass out by the time the roast chicken and potato arrived on the plates. Abraxas was chatting with her parents about Quidditch. Voldemort was staring at her. Neither of them were eating.
"How do you find the chicken, My Lord?" Abraxas finally asked, very meaningfully. Voldemort snapped his eyes down to his plate, cut a bite, stuffed it into his mouth, and nodded silently. Bellatrix forced some chicken into her mouth and shut her eyes as she remembered another paragraph from the book.
'It is extremely normal for a witch not to experience orgasm from penetration alone. Many witches require direct stimulation of the clitoris for an extended period of time to achieve climax. You may find that it is helpful to give due attention to the witch's body before penetration to ensure that she finds sufficient pleasure. After all, it is not enough for the wizard to get in, get out, and move on with life! A simple plan for beginning couples is to incorporate the witch's climax into foreplay. She can always finish again during intercourse, and this way, both parties enjoy themselves fully.'
"Bellatrix?"
She was breathing heavily where she sat, she knew. She was sopping wet between her legs; was she getting the chair wet? Had she soaked through her knickers and skirt? She looked up to see that everyone was staring at her. Voldemort's cheeks were beet red. He knew what she was thinking about. Druella looked a little concerned and asked,
"Are you all right, dear?"
"Just, erm… you know, the taste of the Champagne. Not used to it," Bellatrix said, and the others laughed a bit.
"You poor thing," Druella smiled, sipping from her own glass. "Don't worry, Bellatrix. You'll get used to it."
Bellatrix nodded frantically. She turned her eyes to Voldemort, who looked similarly stricken, and he set his napkin on the table and asked,
"Would you please excuse me for a moment?"
He didn't wait for anyone to answer. He quickly made his way out of the dining room. No one said anything; it would have been rude to do so. He might have been going to relieve himself for all anyone knew. But Bellatrix knew better. He needed a moment to breathe. So did she, but they couldn't leave at the same time. She tried to join the conversation about Quidditch, failed, and finally just listened. Her mind drifted, and she found herself imagining him kissing her in her dance studio, out on the pergola, in his office. She touched at the key he'd given her, and she stared down and spun the compass dial. It pointed toward the dining room door, and she looked up to see him walking back in, his face stern and less flushed. He sat down, nodded once, and said,
"Dobby's bringing the cake in."
"Oh, delightful!" Druella exclaimed. Bellatrix watched then as Dobby levitated in a beautiful vanilla cake covered in raspberries, with seventeen sputtering sparkler candles. The cake landed on the table gently, and the four others sang the traditional birthday song to Bellatrix. Voldemort's voice, she could hear, was shaking considerably. He stared at her through the glow of the candles, and as she stared back, she thought,
I wish that he will let me sleep in his bed tonight.
Then she blew out the candles, and Druella merrily plucked them out and used her wand to carve up slices. As she did, Bellatrix just stared at Voldemort. Surely her father was noticing now. Surely people could see that they were just staring across the table like utter fools, that they were completely engrossed by one another.
"Would you like a piece, My Lord?" Druella asked, and he gave her an odd gesture halfway between shaking and nodding his head. He took the piece and then started eating it. Bellatrix felt sick from the cloying sweetness as she forced the cake down, and finally she asked in a rather rude voice,
"When are you going home, Mum and Dad?"
"Oh, in just a few minutes here, I think," Druella said lazily. "We've overstayed, I know. We'll get out of your hair."
"Oh, are you certain you don't want to stay another night?" Abraxas Malfoy asked playfully, and Voldemort shot him a glare that could have murdered someone. Abraxas tried not to laugh and amended, "Oh, as it happens, Cygnus… we've got that meeting at Gringotts tomorrow morning and I've got some other errands to run. I'm staying tonight in the Leaky Cauldron so I'm in Diagon Alley bright and early."
"Not a bad plan. I may do the same," Cygnus nodded. He and Druella rose, leaving their cake plates on the table for Dobby to clean up. Abraxas gave a knowing look to Voldemort and Bellatrix and then said,
"My things are already packed and sent ahead. I'll let the family say farewell. Miss Black, a very happy birthday to you."
"Thank you… erm… for the… the…" Bellatrix couldn't think.
"The wrap," Abraxas nodded. "Yes. I'll let Aeta know. Cygnus. Druella. Good seeing you, as always. Actually, I'll show you out."
"Oh." Druella seemed surprised at being shuffled out so quickly, but Voldemort certainly didn't fight Abraxas on it, and neither did Bellatrix. She just nodded and gave her mother a loose, odd sort of embrace as she said,
"Thanks for the ballet things, Mum. Daddy, good seeing you."
"Happy birthday, Bellatrix. So glad you're doing well," Cygnus said. "My Lord. I shall write to you with an update on the finances."
"Right." Voldemort nodded tightly, flicking his eyes back and forth between Cygnus and Bellatrix. She watched his fists open and clench a few times, and then she watched him fold his hands in front of his robes as though he were hiding something. Abraxas shuttled Druella and Cygnus out of the dining room, and Bellatrix waved one more time, and then there was quiet.
Bellatrix just listened to her own breathing for a long moment, to his breathing, and she whispered,
"They're all gone. It's just us now."
"Choose a suite," he murmured. He shut his eyes and told her, "I want you to make a decision. Go to your suite and retire for the night, or go to my suite and wait for me in the sitting room. You know what will happen tonight if you're in my rooms."
She chewed her lip and nodded, starting to walk out of the dining room. She knew damned well where she was going.
"Bella," he said, and she turned back. He opened his eyes, looking at her like he was starving to death, and he said softly, "Happy birthday."
Author's Note: Yeah! Birthday Night! Birthday Night! Birthday Night! No more waiting! Raise your hand if you're ready for the Birthday Night! Oh, and also let me know what you thought of this chapter. Haha.