"Enter."

Voldemort stared out the window of his office, listening to the door open and shut behind him. He'd had two meetings already today. First had been with Yaxley to discuss how Thea Mulciber was utterly incompetent in her post as a secretary in the Auror Office and needed replacement immediately to maintain the movement's powerful presence at the Ministry. Second had been with Rookwood, who had begun to create copies of Ministry records and was updating Voldemort on his progress. Now he had Abraxas coming in to talk about whether Lucius was too young to be asked to make reports on fellow students from Hogwarts.

"Good afternoon, My Lord," Voldemort heard Abraxas say, and he just grunted quietly in response. It was sleeting outside; ice was lashing against the windows. It would have been treacherous to try and travel today. He almost pitied Yaxley and Rookwood for having had to walk out through the gardens to Apparate.

"Master?"

Voldemort turned his chair round and gestured for Abraxas to sit. He folded his hands on his desk and said flatly,

"I have decided that, as a second-year, Lucius is too young to be safely and reliably spying. Next term, perhaps. For now, I do not believe there is anything I can not learn about Dumbledore at Hogwarts that I can not learn from my spies in Knockturn Alley and Hogsmeade."

Abraxas frowned. "Yes, Master. I will hold off on any instruction to Lucius. Perhaps we can give him more detailed training over the summer on the matter."

"Training," Voldemort said softly. He nodded, staring down at his hands. He thought of Bellatrix battle dancing in her studio. He thought of her here in his office, her palms pressed to the crystal ball he'd bought for her, calling out the emotions was feeling and overcoming them. He thought of her yanking out her wand and pointing it at Andromeda. He shut his eyes and listened to the sleet outside.

"Master."

He opened his eyes and read the doubt and confusion on Abraxas' face. Abraxas dragged his fingers through his ice blond hair and asked pointedly,

"Master, has she come out of her suite in the last week?"

"I wouldn't know, Malfoy," Voldemort said sharply. "I told her to study. I gave her a stack of books, stories about self-control, about containing magical outbursts, about… I told her to study."

"Well, she's apparently been reading for a week, sir," Abraxas said, and Voldemort shrugged. He listened to the ice outside. Abraxas sighed and licked his bottom lip carefully.

"My Lord," he said, "you have told me that she did not understand what you suggested on Christmas. Have you clarified the matter for her?"

"No." Voldemort turned his chair back toward the window, and Abraxas asked,

"Have you worked with her directly on the issue of self-control? You told her she could not have social participation or family visits until she could demonstrate self-control; have you worked with her on that skill set?"

"No." Voldemort stared out the window. "I am derelict of duty as a legal guardian, it would seem. You have come to scold me, have you?"

"No, My Lord. If you will permit it, I have attempted to come as a friend," Abraxas said, and Voldemort muttered,

"I have no use for friends."

"Have you any use for her?" Abraxas pressed, and Voldemort retorted,

"You are becoming just as surly as your wife. You have spent too much time with her as of late, I think."

"Perhaps we could all learn a little from Aeta," Abraxas said quietly. "At the very least, she has taught me to chase happiness to the very ends of the Earth, and when that happiness is found, to take hold of it and not release it willingly."

Voldemort's eyes burned. He was suddenly very glad he was facing away from Abraxas. He shook his head and said,

"She is a child, Malfoy. She thought I wanted her as my girlfriend."

"Perhaps, Master, she could not fathom herself worthy of being your wife, so her imagination did not dare venture that far," Abraxas suggested. Voldemort had a sudden mental image, a flash, a hue and a cry in his head.

He could see her suddenly, wearing a gown of black raw silk, her hair tied back and pinned with opal and diamonds. He was holding her hands, murmuring words to her as Abraxas tied an enchanted ribbon in a criss-cross pattern around their clasped hands. They wouldn't tell anyone. They wouldn't file paperwork. Isadora Stevens would never know. Voldemort gulped.

"Cerulean blue. The colour of the sea when you've sailed past the shallows, before you reach the very depths," he said. He stood slowly and looked at Abraxas, who frowned. Voldemort clarified, "That is the colour of longing. Not of lust, nor of craving. This is the colour of anxious, ardent yearning. Would you like to see?"

Abraxas blinked and nodded, and Voldemort walked over to the side table against the wall where he kept the crystal ball. He pulled off its velvet cover and pressed his palms to the glass sphere, shutting his eyes. He thought of Bellatrix dressed in raw silk, her hair pinned with opal and diamonds. He thought of their hands being twined together, of the two of them making secret promises. And when he opened his eyes, he nodded down at the crystal ball and observed the colour of the smoke inside.

"Cerulean blue. The sea just beyond the shallows. Longing."

He shut his eyes again and pushed the idea away. He shoved away the ludicrous notion of marrying a seventeen-year-old girl, for that was all that she was at the end of it all. He was a forty-two-year-old man, and she was a seventeen-year-old girl. She was his servant, and he was her master. She was his ward, and he was his legal guardian. That was the way of things. The opal and diamonds were gone; there were no promises. There was just a long room, a long concrete room with a single candle burning at the very far end. And when Voldemort opened his eyes, the smoke inside the ball was a rich royal purple. He looked at Abraxas and said firmly,

"Control."


"Bellatrix."

She jolted at the sound of her name, for she had been alone in her suite for a week now. She'd had Dobby delivering her food and coming to take the dishes away, and he'd been in to change linens and clean. But other than that, Bellatrix had been entirely alone. She flew up from the chair where she'd been reading, flinging herself to her feet so quickly that she almost fell over.

"Master," she said, bowing her head. She was already in her nightgown, her hair tied into a braid over her shoulder, and as he walked quickly into the room, Voldemort started pacing and talking quickly.

"You have demonstrated multiple times that your immediate reaction to embarrassment, frustration, or offence is to become angry and take out your wand."

"Yes, Master. But I've been reading diligently," Bellatrix insisted, "just like you ordered me."

"And what have you found?" Voldemort demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Bellatrix gulped hard and shifted where she stood. She felt very nervous, almost like when she'd first met him, and she stammered,

"W-Well, I… I found a book that recommended deep breathing during situations of anger. I thought perhaps that I might try using mind clearing similar to what I do during Occlumency. That if, for example, I feel my heart rate and breath rate rising, I might shut my eyes and imagine blankness to try and de-escalate the anger."

"Hmm." Voldemort nodded. "And what if someone goaded you? What if they wanted you to lose control? What if I said to you, right in this moment, that you were hideous, that your hair was a hornet's nest, that your chest was flat, that you were sour and unpleasant? It's all true, isn't it? People have been saying it for years. Perhaps they've been right. I think they were right."

Bellatrix felt her eyes burn. All those things had been said by bullying Gryffindors, and from them, those words had made her feel anger. But from Voldemort, they just stung. They just wounded her. Did he really think any of that, or was he just testing her, like that day up in the dance studio when he'd lied and said the Ministry was coming to get her? She shook her head and insisted softly,

"I am not hideous, Master. You have told me that I am beautiful."

"No. Jamie McLaggen was right. About everything," Voldemort snarled. Bellatrix did feel a spike of rage then, and she scowled up at Voldemort as he approached her. She said through clenched teeth,

"I'm going to make Jamie McLaggen eat his balls."

"If you murder Jamie McLaggen, I'll see to it that they administer the Dementor's Kiss to you," Voldemort threatened her. Bellatrix felt a sudden urge to snatch her wand, to Silence him with a spell. But instead she shook her head, shut her eyes, and envisioned the enormous black sea, the empty starry sky. She could hear Voldemort saying to her, "Your sisters will do something great with their lives, but you'll wind up dead in your first battle, and I'll forget all about you, and no one will mourn you. You won't have mattered. Bleak and Bloody Bellatrix."

"Black flecked with red," she murmured. "Pain."

"Oh, does it hurt?" he asked, his voice taunting. Bellatrix kept her eyes shut. She kept trying to imagine the sea. Stars upon stars. She wanted to hex him, to hurt him. He was hurting her.

"You will die," Voldemort's voice said softly, "twirling around like an idiot, spinning like a moron, taking a Killing Curse and slumping like a slaughtered pig. And I will forget about you the next day."

Bellatrix shoved roughly then, her hands pushing his chest as hard as she could. Her ears rang, and when she opened her eyes, his face was very serious. She shook her head and whispered,

"I'm sorry."

"You lost control," he said simply, and she said in a shrill tone,

"I have not seen you in a week, and then you come in here and start mocking me!"

He said nothing at all to that. He made a move to leave the room, but Bellatrix called after him,

"Master!"

He turned round, looking mournful, and Bellatrix shrugged.

"I know now. What you meant on Christmas."

She did, too. She'd figured it out. Sitting alone for a week had left her with loads of time to think through the matter. He'd been asking her, in a very roundabout way, to marry him in a very distant future. She nodded at Voldemort and wrung her hands before her, and she said quietly,

"I am very sorry, My Lord, that I lack self-control. I will continue to practise, day and night. I will have control of myself. I promise."

He cleared his throat and walked slowly toward her.

"You do know, don't you, that I would never forget you if you died in battle?" he asked. "And you do know that your dueling is terrifying? You do know that your hair is lovely, that your body is beautiful, that your sisters are both fools in their own ways, and that you are… you mean so much more to me than anyone else has ever meant or could ever mean? You do know, don't you?"

"I think so, Master," Bellatrix nodded. She snared her arms around his shoulders as she approached. "I am sorry for shoving you."

He tipped his head. "You've been alone for a week. We'll try something different tomorrow. I'll come up with a better plan. Something less… abusive. I dislike speaking to you that way. Perhaps a more physical exercise might benefit you when it comes to learning self-control."

He was smirking then, and Bellatrix wondered just what he had in mind. He tucked her hair behind her ear, and he asked her carefully,

"What did I mean on Christmas, Bella?"

She sighed heavily. "I know what you meant."

"And?" he asked seriously. "If it were a secret? If no one else knew? Other than Abraxas; we'd need him to conduct the occasion. But if it were… you know that I love you."

She nodded, and he kissed her forehead as he whispered,

"I want to wake up beside you and call you my own. Properly. Every day. Tell me it will happen… someday."

"Oh, My Lord." Bellatrix put her head against his chest, and she shut her eyes, feeling her heart slow. "Deep red. Burgundy."

"Comfortable," Voldemort confirmed, and Bellatrix smiled as she promised him,

"The day you come to me and say it is the day, I will be your wife, Master."

Author's Note: What color is "dysfunctional as hell"? Hahaha. That's Bellamort for you, right? Now, if these two decide to actually go through with this, can they hide it from the Ministry? Hmm...