August 1969

Malfoy Manor

"So, we have infiltrated five Ministry departments," Lord Voldemort said to the fourteen he had gathered, the ones he had named as his Death Eaters. "We can and must do better. I want people in the Department of Mysteries. Rookwood. Try and get in there."

"Yes, My Lord," Rookwood nodded. Voldemort sighed and turned to Corban Yaxley, his old school friend and the father of his second-youngest Death Eater.

"Yaxley," he said, "I'd like you to try and get a promotion as quickly as possible. Imperius if you must. We need elevated positions. If that's all, dismissed."

People began to rise and scatter, and Bellatrix cracked her neck and jaw where she sat far down the table from her master and her ex-husband. It had been five months now since they'd gotten a divorce. Five months since he'd gotten her expelled from Hogwarts with a filthy letter he'd deliberately had the owl 'lose.' Five months since he'd had sex with an old paramour, a witch he'd then murdered. Those five months had felt oddly peaceful. Bellatrix now viewed Lord Voldemort as her lord and master, nothing more. Having her heart so thoroughly broken by him had trained her not to see him as a spouse. He had ruined that.

"Miss Black?"

She turned at the sound of her name and looked up, up, up.

"Hello, Cillian."

Cillian Yaxley, with his sandy blonde hair, was enormous. He was Corban Yaxley's son, very tall and thin, and he had handsome chiseled features. He was twenty-two years old and worked as a reporter at the Daily Prophet, and he'd recently been named a Death Eater. He smiled warmly down at Bellatrix and said nervously,

"I hope you're well."

She grinned. "I am. Thanks. How are you?"

"I'm… I'm well." She could tell he was nervous then as he knitted his fingers together and shifted on his feet. "I wonder, Miss Black, if you might be willing to go to dinner with me. I was thinking… erm… tomorrow night? In… in the White Wyvern?"

"A date?" Bellatrix asked in surprise. She flicked her eyes down the table to see Voldemort in conversation with Abraxas Malfoy, and when she looked back to Cillian Yaxley, she nodded eagerly. "I'd love to. Thank you. What time?"

"Shall I meet you there?" he asked. "Erm… half past seven? Does that suit you?"

"Perfect." Bellatrix grinned and hugged her leather rucksack, the same one she used to use at school, close to her body. "See you then."

"See you," Cillian smiled, and he bowed his head before walking quickly out of the room. Abraxas Malfoy was leaving, too, and Bellatrix tried to make a break for it. But then she heard Voldemort's voice behind her say softly,

"Bella."

She turned round reluctantly, knowing he would be angry about her going on a date with another wizard. He didn't have any right to be angry; he'd been legally at fault in their divorce. She rolled her eyes but was surprised when she turned round and saw a rather dejected look upon his face. He just nodded and told her,

"Enjoy your date."

She hesitated, but finally she gulped and said, "Thank you, Master."

"This pot pie is so filling; I can't eat another bite." Bellatrix laughed as she pushed her plate away. Cillian joked,

"I could eat mine and yours. My mum says I eat like a mountain troll."

"Well, that's rude," Bellatrix smiled. "So, how are things at the newspaper."

"Just trying to make the news say the things it ought to say," Cillian said, and Bellatrix nodded knowingly. She sipped at her firewhisky, realising she'd had entirely too much of it, and then she decided she wanted more. She swigged it, and she asked,

"What sort of thing do you cover at the Prophet?"

"Missing persons," Cillian grinned, and he winked. "All sorts of missing persons. It's good work."

"Oh, my. That is good for the cause," Bellatrix said, feeling a little drunk. She poured herself some firewhisky from the bottle they'd bought, and she was sloppy in doing it. She sipped some more, and she and Cillian chatted some more about how she kept busy (by reading and writing and learning the spellwork she was meant to have learnt at Hogwarts). They talked about the Quidditch World Cup and all the fuss over it. Then they were both tipsy, and Cillian paid for the meal and the drinks, and they stumbled down the stairs and out into the street.

"Can I take you home?" Cillian asked, but Bellatrix gave him a knowing grin.

"I'd like to go slowly, Cillian," she said, and he nodded.

"Absolutely. I'd be honoured by a second date. This Saturday?"

"That sounds nice," Bellatrix said. "That sounds really nice. Will you bend down so I can kiss your cheek? You're so damned tall."

They both laughed a little then, and Cillian touched her shoulder carefully as he leaned down. She brushed her lips against his freckled cheek and whispered,

"Night, Cillian."

"Night, Bellatrix," he murmured, and suddenly she thought he was very handsome. He Disapparated, and once he was gone, Bellatrix shut her eyes and determined to go home. She Disapparated, but when she came to and opened her eyes, she wasn't where she'd intended on going.

Home.

She'd thought of home and she'd come to Marsham House.

"No, no, no," she whined, for she knew the wards here would warn Voldemort instantly if someone Apparated within them. Sure enough, the front door of the house burst open, and Voldemort came running outside in a black velvet robe with his wand extended. As soon as he saw it was Bellatrix, he lowered his wand, but as he approached, his face seemed off.

"What are you doing here?" he asked bluntly. Bellatrix cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to Apparate here. I… I meant to go home. I'm drunk."

"I see that," Voldemort said. "Did you enjoy your date?"

"I did." Bellatrix tipped her head up and said, "I'm going on a second date with him on Saturday."

"Oh." Voldemort shut his eyes and shrugged. "I'd offer to take you home so you don't Splinch, but I'm just as drunk as you are."

"Are you?" Bellatrix asked lightly. "You got drunk on dry red wine, I wager I haven't been to this house in months. Looks exactly the same."

"Feels different," Voldemort whispered. "It's a lonely place these days."

"I can't pity you, My Lord," Bellatrix scoffed, and he nodded.

"I know." He paused for a long time then and said, "Out of all my Death Eaters, you're the best one."

"We're not doing this," Bellatrix said, shaking her head. She started to walk away, but Voldemort grabbed at her wrist, and she whirled around, about to slap him. He recoiled, and she reminded him in a hiss,

"I killed the last boy who didn't listen to me when I told him to get away."

Voldemort let go and held his hands up in surrender. He looked profoundly emotional all of a sudden, and he told Bellatrix,

"I want you to know that I do not ever intend on touching a witch again."

"That's nice," Bellatrix said in a sing-song voice. Suddenly she remembered taking her divorce papers to the Ministry, where the same Shacklebolt witch who had stitched them together unraveled the threads of their marriage one ticked box at a time. Bellatrix shook her head, shutting her eyes, and she felt drunk and angry and tired. So tired of thinking about him with Etheline Avery. She opened her eyes and whispered,

"If you want to be celibate, My Lord, that's your decision, but it's nothing to do with me."

"Do you remember what I used to tell you?" he asked, his eyes welling, and she scoffed.

"I remember all sorts of things that you used to tell me."

"I used to tell you," he continued, "that with every passing day, I would love you more. And it was true then, Bellatrix…"

"Don't do this," she mumbled.

"And it's true now," he continued. Bellatrix started to stalk off, afraid right now of Apparition, afraid she'd Splinch herself in her drunken confusion. She just kept walking across the lawn in the darkness, but Voldemort followed her and insisted,

"I lost you. I know that. I know I'll never have you back. But I need you to realise, Bella -"

"Don't do this," she whispered to herself.

"How much I love you," he finished. "That's all. That's all. I love you."

Bellatrix yanked off the plain silver earring from her right ear and shoved it at Voldemort.

"Make this into a Portkey, will you?" she asked. "To my parents' house, please. Now."

He sighed and handed her the earring back. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Galleon, and he aimed his wand at it. He began muttering a series of spells, and then he set it on the ground. He nodded and told her,

"It'll take you there as soon as you touch it."

"Thank you. Goodnight, My Lord," Bellatrix said, and as she crouched down and reached for the Portkey, she heard his voice, sounding more broken than she'd ever heard it, say,

"Goodnight, Bella."

Author's Note: Raise your hand if these two have you all emotional! Gah! It's emotional for me to write this! I don't want to spoil what I have in mind, but I promise it's good. Thank you soooooooo much for your feedback throughout this twist.