Bellatrix set down the broomstick that she so rarely used. It rolled off the slate tiles of the roof, thumping quietly as it hit the copper gutter and then careened over the edge. Bellatrix stood at the roof's edge and watched the broomstick fall.
She still wasn't exactly sure why she was up here. She'd had a dream about Vivian Chenoweth, the witch she'd used to make her Horcrux. The dream had been the same vivid mixture of horrific experiences that Bellatrix had endured during the process of splitting her soul. She'd woken coated in sweat, and she'd immediately risen and wrapped a velvet robe around herself, going to fetch a broomstick and using it to come up here to the roof.
She didn't want to die, but something was telling her to jump. She edged her bare feet toward the edge of the shingles and glanced down. The mansion was only three storeys, and she wasn't sure that the fall would be enough to kill her.
She didn't want to die, but she felt absolutely compelled to jump.
"Bellatrix!"
She blinked slowly, feeling as though she were in a daze as she watched Voldemort come dashing out into the frigid night in nothing but his pyjama trousers. He held his hands up and said in an oddly calm voice,
"I know what you're thinking of doing. Do not do it. Please. I love you."
"If you fly up here, I'll jump before you arrive," Bellatrix's voice answered, and she frowned, for it didn't feel like she was coming up with the words herself. She scowled down at Voldemort and snapped, "Go back inside!"
"Sit down. I will come and get you," Voldemort said, taking a few barefoot steps on the frosty grass. Bellatrix shook her head and called,
"I have to. I have to do it, to jump. I don't know why."
"Bella, no!" Voldemort's voice was shaking then, and Bellatrix felt tears come to her eyes as she yelled down,
"I am so sorry, Master."
Then she jumped.
There was silence for a split second, and she hurtled downward, her nightgown and robe rippling around her in the cold, dark air. Suddenly there was a thump, and Bellatrix wondered why it hadn't hurt to hit the ground. But she looked up to see that she was wrapped up in Voldemort's arms. He'd kicked off the ground with his gift of unassisted flight, and he'd caught her midair. They eased down to the grass, and he kept holding her as he shook his head wildly.
"If I hadn't woken up and come out here, Bellatrix, you might be dead right now."
"I didn't want to die," she mumbled, shivering in the chill. She tucked her face against Voldemort's chest, and he huffed.
"I know," he said. "I almost jumped off a bridge a few weeks after I made my first one. I still don't know why. Some Muggle man passing in an automobile talked me back into my senses. I didn't want to die, either. Obviously."
He had started to carry her back into the house, and she whispered,
"The broom."
"I'll get it later," he said in a snap. He brought her into the sitting room and barked, "Coopy! Get tea and biscuits. Now!"
"Yes, Master!" cried the House-Elf's croaking voice from another room. Voldemort sat on the sofa, keeping Bellatrix in his arms, and he shut his eyes for a moment.
"Did you see it all again?" he asked. "The blend of her trauma and yours?"
"Yes," Bellatrix whispered. "And then it was like I was Imperiused. Like I had to jump, like I had no choice."
"My theory is that your soul is… trying to reunite itself with the bit that's been severed," he said.
"Well, what did you do about it?" Bellatrix asked softly. He shrugged.
"It never happened again after the first time. But I almost died, and so did you. Bella." His throat bobbed as Coopy came into the room with a silver cart of tea and sweets. The House-Elf scurried off, and Voldemort reached for a chocolate biscuit. He nibbled on it a little and then handed it to Bellatrix, but she didn't feel like eating just now.
"Please take just one bite," he whispered, "so I know that I haven't killed you in trying to make you immortal."
Bellatrix forced herself to bite and chew a little bit of the biscuit, and she whispered,
"This is the Darkest magic I've ever performed. Making a Horcrux."
"It is, I think, the Darkest magic there is," Voldemort nodded, "and there is a price for such Darkness. We must be careful. I do not want to find out what it means to need the Horcruxes, Bellatrix."
He'd said that before, but never in the plural. Did he fear for them both? Bellatrix forced a second little bite of the chocolate biscuit and then passed it back, sitting up and arranging herself on the sofa beside him with her knees tucked up to her chest.
"I'm sorry," she said, and Voldemort gnawed his lip beside her.
"Once again, I find myself very grateful for our odd link. I could feel the danger, the impending doom, pulsing in my mind. When I woke, I knew, I just knew somehow, that you were up on the roof. I almost fell dashing down the stairs; I should have just flown out the window. I wasn't thinking clearly. I was terrified I'd be a moment too late."
"And you knew why I was there," Bellatrix nodded, turning her face to him. "You weren't angry when you were on the lawn. You were calm."
"I was pretending to be calm," he corrected her, "but, yes, I knew why you were up there, and I knew you'd jump."
"Thank you for catching me," Bellatrix muttered, and then she added, "Master."
"I've told you before, and I'll say it again," he said rather roughly. "I will not let you fall, Bellatrix. Not ever."
"My Lord, I do not mean to interfere in affairs beyond my purview," said Abraxas Malfoy, "but I feel the need to bring this to your attention. Rookwood obtained it from our plants in Law Enforcement and Control of Magical Creatures."
Abraxas passed over a thin dossier, and Voldemort frowned as he took it. The clock on the office mantle ticked and ticked and then chimed softly to mark ten o'clock. Voldemort opened the dossier and read aloud.
"Seventeen Muggles attacked in a six-week span… all of them infected with lycanthropy. What, you think our werewolves are deliberately spreading their condition?"
"There are some," Malfoy said delicately, "who believe that Fenrir Greyback and his motley crew care absolutely nothing for you or your cause or even money. There are some who believe Greyback seeks only to gain access to and infect as many victims as possible in order to create a larger, more powerful contingent of werewolves to confront wizardkind."
Voldemort shut the file and slammed it down on the desk.
"Between the damned goblins and now the werewolves, I really have had more than enough of these animals abusing my generosity," he sneered. "Who's in charge of Greyback at the moment?"
"In charge, Master?" Malfoy seemed surprised. "Greyback is in charge, My Lord, of the squads of werewolves and goblins that take out goblin enemies. He answers to Avery in an advisory capacity, but it's Greyback who leads those missions, when it comes to boots on the ground."
"I want this delivered directly to Greyback. Give me a moment." Voldemort snatched a blank piece of parchment and a self-inking quill, and he began to write as neatly as he could.
Greyback,
Control your impulses and cease all deliberate creation of new werewolves at once. Your mandate is simple and is not to be ignored or expanded upon. You are to eliminate the specific goblins whose names and addresses are given to you. The next time I receive word from the Ministry that you or your fellow werewolves have deliberately created more of your kind, I shall personally eliminate every last one of you, and I shall take great pleasure in doing so.
Serve me properly or die.
Lord Voldemort
He blew on the ink to dry it, rolled up the parchment into a scroll, and drizzled wax from a sealing stick he heated up onto the seam. He picked up his heavy metal seal with its Dark Mark and pressed it to the black wax, and he handed it over to Malfoy.
"See to it that this is delivered to Greyback at once. I don't want…"
He trailed off then, for he could feel that Bellatrix was pacing anxiously outside his door. He cleared his throat and called,
"Come in, Bellatrix."
The door opened, and Bellatrix entered hesitantly. She was white-faced and looked terrified, and suddenly Voldemort said,
"Malfoy, get that letter to Greyback. Dismissed."
"My Lord." Malfoy flew to his feet and bowed respectfully. As he passed Bellatrix, he bowed his head and murmured, "My Lady."
As soon as the door shut, Voldemort demanded,
"What's the matter?"
"It happened again," she said softly, stepping toward his desk. "I was at my parents' house in London, and all of a sudden I could feel the terrible blend of horror, and I just… I walked outside and… and I almost stepped in front of a Muggle truck. My mother yanked me back; she wants me put into St Mungo's. She thinks I'm suicidal."
"So that's what that dreadful sensation an hour ago was," Voldemort nodded. He folded his hands on his desk and asked frankly, "Do you want to die, Bellatrix?"
"No. No, I do not." Her eyes welled heavily and she shook her head, coming to sit opposite him. "I've never been this afraid. My mother only just barely yanked me away from the truck. I was very nearly struck."
"Right. I've had enough," Voldemort said with a crisp nod. "I'm going to send owls to Malfoy, Yaxley, and your father instructing them not to bother me unless it's an emergency, and then only by owl. I've actually got more books on the Isle of Man than I've got in Little Hangleton. We're going there for a few days, and I'm going to get to the bottom of all of this - the eating, the… the urge to destroy yourself. You're not reacting well at all to this process."
"I'm so sorry!" Bellatrix said, tears streaming down her pretty cheeks, but Voldemort shook his head and said,
"I haven't the time or patience for crying and perseverating. It's time to act. I will use whatever spells and potions and Dark magic I need to to fix this. You will not be out of my sight, not even for a moment. I'll avert my eyes whilst you're using the toilet, but you'll not leave my side for even a second. I'll bind you to me whilst we sleep. I will not let you…"
"Die," Bellatrix finished for him, and Voldemort gulped as he nodded.
"Right. I will not let you die. So we're going to the Isle of Man, and we're not coming back until I've gotten to the bottom of this."
"My Lord," Bellatrix said very carefully, "what if something does happen to me?"
"Are you deaf?" he snapped. "I just said that I will allow nothing to happen. You will not be out of my sight, Bellatrix; I will personally protect you."
"But you've so much else to handle at the moment!" Bellatrix cried, and Voldemort shook his head.
"I can communicate easily by owl, Bella, and if my entire movement falls apart because I'm in the Irish Sea for a few days, then I've got more problems than Fenrir Greyback."
She looked a little confused, but she finally nodded and whispered again,
"I'm very sorry."
"No. I'm the one that insisted you make a Horcrux. I've done it so much now that I underestimated just how powerful the side effects of such Dark Magic can be. But I will not let you die, Bellatrix. Be prepared to get awfully tired of me, because this is as far apart as you're going to be from me for a while."
He gestured across the desk, and Bellatrix smiled sadly.
"I could never grow tired of you, Master."
"Hmph," he huffed, reaching for a parchment to write his first letter. "We'll see about that."
Author's Note: Oh, no! Bellatrix doesn't want to die, but her split soul is trying to kill her. Will Voldemort be able to protect her? Will he be able to research the matter well enough to get a good solution in place? Will Bellatrix get tired of him? Mwah hahaha… I have to say, I am *really* looking forward to the next few chapters. Buckle up! Reviews earn your House fifty points apiece. Woo hoo!