"Mr Yaxley. It sounds like you're in a spot of trouble."
"I am, My Lord." Cillian Yaxley was anxious where he sat opposite Voldemort at the desk in Malfoy Manor. He dragged his fingers through his sandy hair and confessed, "My editor is on the brink of sacking me. He says that I'm a blood purist and that it comes through in my writing."
"And have you tried Confounding or Imperiusing him?" Voldemort asked flatly.
"I have, sir, but I think he's suspicious," Cillian said. "The other day, he called me into his office for a meeting and told me that he didn't like my opinions, not one bit, and that he wanted me to cease at once including any of them in the newspaper. He took away my column."
Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "Have you got the strength for this, or not, boy?"
"I have, My Lord." Cillian's cheeks reddened, but Voldemort hissed,
"Legilimens."
He invaded Cillian's mind then, watching the conversations with the editor of the Daily Prophet, the conversations with Corban Yaxley, and finally he saw Cillian's mind drift to Bellatrix. He should have pulled out of Cillian's mind then, he thought, but he didn't. Instead he watched as Cillian and Bellatrix kissed, as they stripped their clothes off in front of one another. That was enough for him, and he yanked himself out.
"She doesn't want me," Cillian insisted, "My Lord."
"But you want her," Voldemort said, for he could feel it. "You want her, and you can't do your job."
"Please," Cillian said, "Don't kill me. Please don't kill me."
Confundo! Voldemort raised his wand and aimed it straight at Cillian Yaxley. The boy vibrated where he sat, and Voldemort lowered his wand. He sighed and said,
"You will successfully Imperius the editor of the Daily Prophet, won't you? You'll find the courage to do it. I know you can."
"I can do that, Master," Cillian said, and Voldemort smirked. He nodded and added, "You should move on to someone else. Leave the idea of Bellatrix behind. She's all wrong for you."
"You know, she is," Cillian agreed, tipping his head a little. "She is all wrong for me, Master."
"Good boy," Voldemort smiled. "Dismissed."
Voldemort studied his reflection in his full-length mirror and wondered if he'd overdressed. He'd donned very formal robes for their night out in an Amsterdam cabaret. He meant to make it special for Bellatrix, to make her really and truly enjoy it.
He heard a knocking on the door downstairs, and he went dashing down the steps as Tippy went up to the door. It opened, and Bellatrix came walking in, wearing a very casual set of leggings and a black tunic. It was the same outfit she'd had on earlier in the Death Eater meeting where they'd discussed Mudbloods at the Daily Prophet. He frowned and asked her,
"Do you not want to go?"
"I do not think it is a good idea to go to Amsterdam, My Lord," Bellatrix said quietly, and his stomach flopped. She didn't want to go on a date with him. She was slipping away from him like sand through his fingers. He cleared his throat and asked her plainly,
"Why not?"
"Because, Master," she said, "You'll be recognised."
"Well, I can Transfigure my features. And yours," he insisted, almost desperately. She tipped her head and whispered,
"I think it is best for your movement, Master, if you stay… hidden. Underground. Everyone knows you now. Everyone. And I don't want to go to a cabaret in Amsterdam and have someone assassinate you."
"I'd like to see them try," Voldemort sneered, but Bellatrix rolled her eyes and said,
"I wouldn't. Please." She stepped up to him and put her hands flat on his chest. She whispered, "I'm going to the Canary Islands."
"Hmm. Yes, I did promise you you could go," Voldemort hummed, and he covered her hands with his on his chest. She looked up at him, seeming to consider something, and she noted,
"I'm going by Portkey to a very secluded spot. A private spot."
"Are you?" He felt a little breathless then, but Bellatrix just nodded and told him,
"I'm leaving in the morning. I'll only be gone for four days. I'll check in with you upon my return, Master."
"Oh. Erm… yes, of course." He squeezed at her hands and let her pull away. She gave him a crooked little smile and whispered,
"Goodnight."
"Night," he said gently, and he watched her Disapparate, leaving him standing there like an idiot in formal robes, dressed for a date that would now never happen.
They had been divorced for almost a month longer than they'd been married. Voldemort knew that to be true. It didn't make it any easier to be divorced from her.
He was distracted in his meetings while she was in the Canary Islands. Was she off with some tanned young wizard? What was she doing? In one meeting, Voldemort kept having to ask Nott and Avery to repeat themselves, because he was so empty-headed that he couldn't keep track of what they were saying. Eventually he told them that they'd have to come back at a later time, and he told Malfoy to cancel his meetings until after Bellatrix returned.
On the day she was scheduled to return, it was pouring rain outside, and Voldemort stared out the window of his office with a cup of hot tea in his hand. He'd propped the window open so that the cool air and the brush of the rain could come inside, for he liked the little bit of spray. It was refreshing. Suddenly he saw a black blur in the gardens, and then that little figure came trotting up toward the house. She took off at a run all of a sudden. Bellatrix.
Voldemort practically dropped his teacup, managing to Vanish it wandlessly instead. He rushed over to the door of his office and flung it open, and he hurried out into the corridor. She came dashing up the steps from the foyer and running - sprinting - down the corridor toward him. He let her run by him into his office, and he thought something must be terribly wrong. He slammed the door shut and asked,
"Bella, what the devil is the matter with -"
She silenced him by throwing her rain-soaked arms, still bared from the sleeveless clothes she'd worn in the Canary Islands, around his shoulders. She gasped and squeezed at him, and Voldemort was shocked. He embraced her and whispered,
"What's the matter?"
"I love you," she told him. "Make the vow."
His heart began to race then, and when she pulled back, he just nodded. He licked his lip and drew out his wand. He trembled a little as he held the tip to his heart and recited the promises he'd memorised weeks earlier.
"Bellatrix of the House of Black. To you I make this Vow of Loyalty. Let my heart be yours and yours alone now and forevermore. Let my mind be yours and yours alone now and forevermore. Let my body be yours and yours alone now and forevermore. And should I violate this most sacred vow, let my body turn to dust and my soul turn to ash. I am yours, Bellatrix of the House of Black. I am yours. This I vow."
He felt a very warm glow, a burning sort of heat, flush through his veins, and he watched light radiate out from his heart. Bellatrix's eyes went round, and she panted where she stood with rain dripping from her hair. She chewed her lip hard and nodded.
"Marry me?" she asked him, and he realised she'd just proposed to him. He shook his head, confused and dizzy, and he asked in a hoarse whisper,
"What?"
"Please, let's try this again," she said. "I just spent four days realising that I can not live without being yours, and with that vow, I know… I know why you made the mistakes you made. I also know how deeply you love me. And I believe… I really and truly believe… that you and I were meant for one another in a way far deeper than any arranged marriage contract could ever convey."
"I think that's true," Voldemort agreed.
"So will you marry me?" Bellatrix asked. Then, seeming to realise she'd been insolent, she tacked on, "Master?"
"Yes." His voice was barely audible. He seized her face in his hands and bent to touch his forehead to hers. "Yes, my finest servant and the only witch I could ever hope to love. Yes. I will marry you again, and this time… this time is forever, you understand? I am yours, and you are mine, and we will be together forever."
"Forever," Bellatrix whispered, clutching at his chest. She laughed a little, nodding, and she absorbed the kiss when Voldemort crushed her mouth.
Author's Note: She proposed to him! Everybody say "awww" and "yay Death Eater feminism!" Haha. But, seriously… is Bella right that they have to stay underground now? And when will the attacks really ramp up? After all, we're getting really close to that 1970 "beginning of the First Wizarding War" timeline.