Bellatrix fretted over her hair. Did she look like an idiot? She'd never been allowed to Mr Malfoy's famous Christmas party before; it had always been a strictly adults-only affair. But Voldemort had arranged with the Ministry to ensure that it would be a bit more family-friendly this year, so both Andromeda and Narcissa would be in attendance, along with Bellatrix's parents. Bellatrix wanted to look beautiful. She didn't want to look like some infamous criminal. Everyone would be ogling her, she knew. That's the girl who's holed up here under house arrest for committing an Unforgivable. Voldemort would have to be Tom Riddle tonight, for there would be many Purebloods well outside the circle of Death Eaters present. He would be Tom Riddle, her legal guardian, and she would be Bellatrix Black, his notorious ward. So she at least wanted to look pretty. After all, if she was going to be a well-known torturess, she could at least be a decently-dressed torturess.
Now she Levitated a hand-held mirror behind her and studied the reflection of the two thick braids she'd twined with one another. She'd used silver ribbon in one braid and shimmering green ribbon in the other. They could expel her, but she'd always be a Slytherin. Her gown was high-necked black lace, long-sleeved - cut modestly on purpose. But it hugged her form and flared out into a skirt that moved well, with tulle underskirts to give it a fluid sense of motion when she walked or turned. Her brass key from Voldemort was around her neck on a daily basis, but was objectively too informal for this event, so instead she wore an heirloom piece, an oval emerald on a silver chain that had been her great-grandmother's. She wore simple, peach-toned makeup except for her heavily-lined eyes.
"Bellatrix?"
She jolted a little at the sound of his voice, almost losing her grip on the spell keeping her mirror aloft. She snatched it out of the air and set the mirror down in the basket beside her sink.
"In the bathroom, Master!" she called, and he hesitantly called back,
"Are you decent?"
She laughed. Did he honestly care about that these days? She'd awakened this morning in her own bed, completely naked, having been taken from behind for the first time the night before. That had been nice, being penetrated that deeply. Bellatrix had not known what it could feel like to have a man that far inside of her. She shuddered at the memory, eyeing the bed, wanting it again. She could still feel his hands tightly gripping her hips. She could still feel his fingers drifting around her backside, then up her spine, as he pumped his -
"Well. You look lovely."
She snapped her face up to him and smiled weakly. This last month had consisted of intense training. She'd gotten very good at whipping up a Shield Charm, taking it down and throwing a strong hex, and protecting herself again. They'd discussed everything from the history of mountain trolls and the future of trolls in Voldemort's movement to the theory of Occlumency. Bellatrix's days were often spent with mornings in her dance studio, afternoons dueling, evenings in the library at study, and nighttimes talking or kissing or more. She was busy. She did not feel at all idle. She knew he was busy, too. He had meetings all the time; he had money and influence to gain day by day in addition to training her. But they both seemed happy. Things felt content, at least for the most part.
"Good thing you've got long sleeves on," Voldemort noted. "I reckon you could probably still see shadows of the welts from the Stinging Hex you took yesterday."
"Oh. Yes, probably." Bellatrix shrugged. "Part of the deal, I suppose."
Voldemort held out his hand, and she was a little confused until he said, "I can Disarm you, or you can hand it to me. Remember the rules. Your wand is mine until the party's over."
"Oh… of course, Master." Bellatrix took her wand from the ledge above the sink and watched Voldemort tuck it into his attractive tuxedo robes. Isadora Stevens had agreed to the party on many conditions, not the least of which was that Bellatrix not have access to her wand during the party. Other rules included no drinking alcohol by either Voldemort or Bellatrix, the party needed to dissipate promptly at midnight, Voldemort needed to provide a written report of Bellatrix's behaviour at the party (likely to be corroborated by a Ministry spy at the party), and she must be polite and follow all conditions of her house arrest during the event. There was one other rule that would look rather strange to the other guests.
"You must stay very near me," Voldemort reminded her. "If you need to use the bathroom, I'll have to come with you and stand outside. If you want a slice of Christmas cake, we'll walk over together to get it. I can't let you out of my sight. I guarantee that Mrs Stevens has arranged for someone at this party to be watching you, and if either of us breaks their rules, it's all over. This party has to happen for Pureblood political reasons, but we have to follow Ministry rules. Rock and a hard place. You act like you're glued to my side. Understood?"
"Yes, Master." Bellatrix sighed and asked hesitantly, "Shall I hold your hand?"
He scowled and scoffed awkwardly. "Well, no. That would… that would give entirely the wrong impression."
"Oh." Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot, and Voldemort reminded her firmly,
"You're my ward, Bellatrix. Not my… you know."
"Of course, Master." She bowed her head, feeling embarrassed. She shut her eyes, thinking of this morning, when he'd still had his eyes shut, mostly asleep, and had kissed her forehead and whispered that he loved her.
"You really do look beautiful," he murmured, and when she raised her eyes to him, he smirked and nodded. He reached for her hand, squeezed it, and let it go. "Stay close."
"Hello, sir." Avery bowed his head as he walked up. The Death Eaters were measuring their words carefully tonight, Bellatrix knew. They couldn't go around saying Master and My Lord when the very act of being a Death Eater was still secret. Only a quarter of the people in this room had anything to do with the Death Eaters. The rest were almost certainly hugely sympathetic in some way, but the movement was still growing. Tom Riddle, to most people in this room, was an enigmatic figure deserving of respect, but nothing more. The name Lord Voldemort was whispered, not blurted.
"Avery." Voldemort nodded, sipping from his cranberry-apple cider punch, a non-alcoholic drink that allowed him to adhere to the Ministry's regulations on alcohol. Avery, of course, had eggnog. "Happy Christmas."
"The tree looks extraordinary this year," Avery marveled. Voldemort eyed the large spruce that Dobby had decorated the night before and that Abraxas had lit ten minutes earlier. It sparkled with enchanted silver and white decorations and perfectly twinkling lights. Silver garland wove around the icy tree, and Bellatrix said softly,
"It looks cold."
Avery laughed a little and said, "Well, hello, there, Miss Black. How have you been doing? Missing out on school. What a shame."
Bellatrix scowled. She sipped deeply from her own punch and insisted, "I'm getting a far better education here than I ever got at Hogwarts, Mr Avery."
"Oh? Quite so." Avery seemed very amused, but Voldemort did not. He cleared his throat and asked quietly,
"Bella, are you hungry? I am."
"Yes, sir. I think I am." Bellatrix frowned up at him, and Avery seemed a little confused, but Voldemort nodded crisply and walked away from Avery. Bellatrix trotted after him, hissing at Voldemort,
"Why was he so rude to me?"
"They're all going to be rude to you," Voldemort informed her. He picked up a glass plate and put a few stuffed mushrooms on it. Bellatrix followed suit, and they each took a few puff pastries and then some warm brie with apples and honey. Bellatrix moved with Voldemort over to a wall, where he leaned back against the wallpaper and started to eat. She stood close in front of him, and they started to chat about little nothings. They talked about how Irma Black, Bellatrix's grandmother, smelt of an attic. Voldemort couldn't help laughing at that. They talked about how the viola in the hired string quartet had been out of tune for a while. They finished their food and handed the plates off to Dobby, and then Voldemort leaned down and said softly to Bellatrix,
"Here come your sisters. And Lucius, of course."
"What?" Bellatrix whirled round, feeling Voldemort touch lightly at her elbow to steady her. She took a half step away from him, thinking perhaps she was too close. Narcissa was approaching, wearing a gown of dove grey tulle and silk, her blonde hair piled atop her head elaborately. She was walking arm-in-arm with Lucius, and Bellatrix giggled over her shoulder,
"Sorry, but they are thirteen."
"It's rather pathetic, but let them have their fun," Voldemort replied smoothly. Then he stood up straight and said formally, "Lucius. The Ladies Black. Hello."
"Good evening, sir. Bella." Lucius bowed a little, and Narcissa kissed Bellatrix's cheek. Andromeda, who had come in hunter green velvet with a black feathered headpiece in her deep auburn hair, did not look amused.
"School's going really well this term, Bella," Andromeda said, putting her hands on her hips. Bellatrix sucked on her teeth.
"Is it?"
"Yes," Andromeda said, tipping her head. "Slytherin's so far ahead in the House Cup. We'll likely win. I overheard McGonagall saying it was because you weren't there to lose us all our points."
"Or perhaps it's because Professor McGonagall is lacking an excuse to take them all away," Voldemort said from behind Bellatrix, and Bellatrix smirked. Andromeda narrowed her eyes at Voldemort and then said to Bellatrix,
"Ted says that the Gryffindors have had to latch onto poor Betsy Bucky in Hufflepuff to make fun of now that you're not there."
"Andy," Narcissa said with some warning, but Bellatrix growled,
"Oh, poor Betsy Bucky. Little Betsy Bucky, round as a plum. Well, she can go ahead and take their mockery; I did it for five years. And what do you care what Ted thinks, anyway? Isn't he that Mudblood you were hanging around?"
"Don't you use that word," Andromeda spat, and Narcissa started to pull on Andromeda's arm.
"Come on, Andy."
"You deserve to be here," Andromeda said to Bellatrix, who reached for where her wand would normally be in her holster as her heart began to race. She felt Voldemort's hand on her shoulder, then felt his lips beside her ear, and he said softly,
"And that's why I've got your wand. Come on. Let's go."
"Let's go, Andy." Narcissa was pulling her sister away then, and Voldemort said to Lucius,
"Tell Druella to get Andromeda home. She shouldn't be here. Your father wouldn't want his daughters arguing, and Bellatrix can hardly leave. Go, Lucius."
"Yes, sir." Lucius Malfoy hurried off toward Druella Black, and suddenly Bellatrix was being dragged away toward the dessert table. The room was spinning. She felt dizzy with anger. She had a plate of vanilla cake with red and green frosting shoved into her hands, and then Voldemort said to her,
"You very nearly lost your temper."
"Sorry, Master," Bellatrix murmured. He pinched his lips and opened his mouth to speak, but then he groaned in anger as Cygnus Black walked up, accompanied by Rodolphus Lestrange. Bellatrix's stomach sank, and she set the cake down on the empty table beside her and insisted,
"I don't want this."
She didn't make it clear if she meant the cake or the wizards. She didn't want any of it.
"Hello, sir. Bellatrix." Cygnus strode up and said quietly, "I'd like to apologise for Andromeda. She is of a sour disposition. I'm afraid we're not sure what to do with her these days."
"Well, that makes two daughters who are profound disappointments, Daddy," Bellatrix said, and Cygnus shook his head.
"No, Bella," he said warmly. "You are not a disappointment."
He looked around to ensure no one was listening, then glanced to Rodolphus and said quietly,
"My Lord, Rodolphus is very aware of what Bellatrix is training to do."
"This is neither the time nor the place, Cygnus," Voldemort began, warning in his voice, but Cygnus insisted,
"He is willing to follow through with the contract, knowing well that Bellatrix will be a soldier once her house arrest is -"
"I said not now, Cygnus," Voldemort snapped. Cygnus cleared his throat softly and nodded. Bellatrix studied Rodolphus Lestrange, who gave her a little smile. He was awkward-looking, she thought. He was tall and thin. Gangly. His limbs seemed too long for his body. His face seemed like it belonged to a teenager at least a few years younger than Rodolphus' twenty years, but he had a full-grown, neatly cropped beard. His hair was an ugly shade of brown, and he still had some acne. Bellatrix gulped and recoiled inside at the thought of being in bed with him the way she'd been in bed now with Voldemort. No, she thought. She could not marry him.
"Perhaps if you and I could speak privately about the matter, Master," Cygnus whispered, and Bellatrix wondered why her father wouldn't give up the contract. Then he said, rather anxiously, "Two thousand Galleons have already changed hands."
"Give the money back, Lestrange," Voldemort snapped, and Rodolphus said very calmly,
"Sir, it is only that I actually want this contract to be honoured. I am aware of what is expected of Miss Black after her house arrest, and I mean to respect it. I also mean to marry her."
"Does no one intend on asking me?" Bellatrix asked shrilly, and Voldemort put his hand on her shoulder again for a moment. She felt her heart speeding up again, felt the urge to hex her father and Rodolphus both. Each of the wizards looked a little concerned, until Cygnus Black had the hideous idea of suggesting,
"Bellatrix, perhaps you and Rodolphus could dance. They've opened up the dance floor. You could get to know one another a little better."
"Oh, no. I'm afraid that is entirely impossible, not least because Bella is to stay within three paces of me all evening. Ministry orders," Voldemort hissed, somehow managing to keep his voice both angry and soft. "I am her guardian, Cygnus. Not you. Although, I would remind you of what I said in my letters to you and Lestrange. Bellatrix is not an object for sale. Lestrange, return the money. Both of you put an end to this nonsense now, or my wrath on the matter will be felt in full. Bellatrix, would you care to dance?"
"Yes, please." She was breathless suddenly, feeling like he'd rescued her. She let him take her hand, feeling both of their fingers shaking with rage. He led her through the throngs of revelers, all of whom stared at the oddity - the girl who tortured a classmate. The teenaged criminal. Bellatrix Black, who's here under house arrest. She let them stare. Suddenly she didn't mind any of their eyes on her. Suddenly all that mattered was her master, who was taking her out onto the dance floor.
He swept her up into a tight dancing stance, standing closer than most people who weren't publicly attached would dance. He pressed his hand to her back and held her other hand tightly, and his jaw was squared in anger as he studied her eyes. They settled into the easy two-step, a Christmas carol played by the string quartet. Bellatrix stared up at him and murmured,
"I don't want to marry him."
"You're not marrying him," Voldemort said back, quite firmly. Bellatrix nodded. She smirked a bit then and said,
"With all the dancing you've watched me do, and with all the moving we've done together, somehow you and I have never danced."
He let out a bitter sort of laugh and asked, "How have we let that happen?"
"I don't know, Master," she whispered. She needed to kiss him then. She suddenly couldn't care that everyone could see them. The room around them melted away. Andromeda being taken home by Druella, her father trying to sell her to Rodolphus… that was gone. The cold, white Christmas tree and the stuffed mushrooms and the cranberry punch was gone. The slightly out-of-tune viola was gone. All that mattered was the clean, oceanic smell of his tuxedo robes, inches away, and the need to kiss him. She stared up at him, and she whispered,
"I love you," and he nodded back down, looking almost drowsy.
"May I cut in?"
Bellatrix jolted a little, and Voldemort frowned a bit as he and Bellatrix stopped their dancing steps. Abraxas Malfoy was standing there, looking almost frantic, his pale blue eyes glittering as he shook his head at Voldemort. Abraxas knew very well that Voldemort couldn't let Abraxas dance with Bellatrix; he had to stay within a few paces. Ministry orders. But Bellatrix understood.
They had been obvious. If someone had looked over, as Abraxas had done, they would not have seen a ward and her legal guardian, but a man and a woman who thought awfully fondly of one another. Voldemort nodded and released Bellatrix, stepping back a little, and he murmured,
"Never ate that cake."
"Right," she nodded, and Abraxas said firmly,
"It's just on that table over there."
Then he turned on his heel and strode away, and Voldemort licked his lip as he walked off, leaving Bellatrix to trot quickly in order to stay within three paces of him.
Author's Note: Oh, dear. They were obvious. Will there be any fallout of that? Good thing Bellatrix wasn't able to grab her wand and do anything to Andromeda! Or her father! Or Rodolphus! Anyone feel like a post-party lemon? Fair warning - it's going to involve just a bit of rough sex (finally; this Bellatrix seems like she'll like that, no? Mwah hahaha).