Bellatrix panted where she lay in bed. Two days into the dosing of the Ibandronus Potion, she was feeling better than ever. Now she lay alone in bed, waiting for Voldemort to come back, and she was impatient.

He was off meeting with Yaxley and Rookwood to ensure the Ministry would turn as quickly as possible. The primary goal right now was to capitalise on the confusion and chaos of Dumbledore vanishing to Imperius the Minister for Magic, Eugenia Jenkins.

Bellatrix couldn't stay in bed any longer. She was restless, buzzing from the inside out. She rose from the bed and peeled off her nightgown, and she huffed as she walked into the bathroom. She turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm, finally stepping inside and unscrewing the unbreakable glass bottle of shampoo. She poured some into her hand and then began to scrub at her hair, shutting her eyes as she realised something.

She was going to marry him.

When it was all his - that was what he'd said. When it was all his, he would marry her. And soon enough, it would all be his. Dumbledore had gone down much more quickly and easily than Bellatrix could have anticipated. Soon enough, the Ministry would belong to Lord Voldemort. It would all be his soon, just like he'd said. Perhaps, she thought, they could marry in private on his forty-fourth birthday.

That was a fantasy, she realised as she rinsed her hair and put smoothing cream onto it. She scrubbed at her body with soap and thought that there was still so much to do. Dumbledore being dead wasn't enough. Jenkins had to go. The Daily Prophet needed to turn, to become entirely Voldemort's. There needed to be no question that he was in charge. Then and only then would he consider marrying her, she knew.

She made her way out of the shower and stood in front of the sink, Scouring her teeth with her wand and then shutting her eyes as she ran a wide-toothed wooden comb through her wet curls. She quietly sang a little tune, and then she gasped.

"My Lord."

The comb clattered as it fell down into the sink. Bellatrix leaned back a little as his hands tossed away her towel and started to rub at her breasts. She touched his face, feeling the little bit of scruff that had been growing in for a few days now. She hummed as his thumbs flicked back and forth over her nipples. She held her breath at the way he palmed her breasts and then ran his hands down over her ribs and slim waist.

"Bella."

She opened her eyes to see him staring at her in the mirror. He was shirtless, wearing only black flannel pyjama trousers that he'd changed into. He must've come home whilst she'd been showering, Bellatrix thought. She smiled a little at him in the mirror and asked,

"How was your meeting with Yaxley and Rookwood?"

"It was actually quite encouraging," Voldemort said. He kissed Bellatrix's damp hair and seemed to be breathing in the scent of her. His hands tightened on her bare waist, and he murmured,

"They've Imperiused Jenkins. They've ordered her to stay home one day next week and tell no one. When she wakes up in the morning, she'll open her eyes to find Avery and Nott with their wands aimed at her. Minerva McGonagall has been named interim Headmistress of Hogwarts; since there's no body, they can't be sure that Dumbledore's even dead."

Bellatrix took a deep, comforting breath and whispered, "I couldn't be happier, My Lord?"

"I could," he said seriously. He turned Bellatrix around to face him, tipping her chin up with his knuckle. He dragged his front teeth over his bottom lip, his eyes shining, and he said quietly, "Marry me."

"I will," she nodded. She reached up to hold his scruffy face in her hands, and she smiled more broadly. "I will marry you, My Lord."

"Now," he specified. "Or… soon. Very soon. Marry me, Bellatrix."

She nodded again, her eyes feeling heavy and wet. "Whenever you'd like."

"Soon," he repeated. "Very soon."

Then he clutched at her wrist and started dragging her out to the bedroom. Bellatrix laughed a little until he wrenched her up onto the bed and lay on his own back, and she saw that his eyes were like black fire.

"Sit on my face," he instructed her very firmly. Bellatrix's mouth fell open, and she balked with an awkward laugh. Voldemort scowled at her. "You seem to be feeling much better. Is your body in some condition that would prevent you from doing it?"

"I didn't know… I didn't realise that a thing people did," Bellatrix mumbled. She picked at the blanket and shook her head a little. "I don't know how. Master."

"Well, I've never done it, either, but I know I want it," Voldemort said sharply. "I won't hurt you."

Bellatrix's stomach wrenched then. He'd said that to her in this bedroom, the very first time he'd ever taken her body for his own. She swept an unexpected tear away and whispered,

"You could if you wanted."

His eyes flashed then as the memory settled over him. It hadn't been so long ago, and yet in some ways it felt like an eternity.

"I don't want to hurt you," he told her. "Not ever. I want to love you, to possess you. I want you as my wife. You understand? I need it. I need you. Soon."

"Soon," Bellatrix nodded. She took a shaky breath then and straddled Voldemort's pelvis. She brushed her hips down and felt that he'd gone a bit hard. He shut his eyes and told her,

"Up here. Up to my mouth."

Bellatrix was embarrassed about putting her most private parts that near Voldemort's face, but she did as he said. She shut her eyes for a moment as she inched upward. Suddenly Voldemort put his hands on her hips and smashed Bellatrix's womanhood down onto his mouth. She gasped as she felt the bridge of his nose rubbed against her clit, and she cried out in shock when his tongue thrust up into her entrance.

"Ohhh…" Bellatrix clutched at the headboard, her knuckles going white. Voldemort's hands stayed on her hips, guiding her body as his instinct led him on. He started to slide her back and forth, which led to an almost unfathomable stimulation. Her nub was rubbing hard against his nose and lips, and he was devouring her in a way she couldn't quite describe. His lips and mouth were pressing, suckling, smashing, drawing from her.

How could he breathe? Bellatrix wondered. How could he possibly take in air when she was completely covering his face like this? He didn't seem distressed. On the contrary, he yanked her down over and over, forward and back.

"I'm going to come." Bellatrix couldn't help it. She couldn't stave off how good this felt. It was unbearably good, the way his mouth was pressing against her, sliding and - "Ahhh!"

Bellatrix let her face fall forward. She'd climbed the mountain and fallen over the edge so much faster than she could have imagined. Voldemort groaned loudly beneath her as her walls clenched around his nose and lips. His tongue lathed hard against her clit as she came. Her ears rang loudly, and her head pounded with the pleasure.

Before she knew what was happening, she'd been seized by the waist and tossed down onto her side. She panted for breath as Voldemort wrenched his pyjama trousers off and kicked them away. He rolled over atop her, using the back of his wrist to clean Bellatrix's fluids off his lips and cheeks. The sight of that took Bellatrix's breath away entirely. He just stared at her as he carefully parted her thighs and whispered,

"Wrap your legs round me, you pretty little creature."

"Mmm…" Bellatrix did as he said, and when he pushed into her body, she arched up and back a little. It felt so good to be filled like this, and he was so hard inside of her that she couldn't imagine him lasting more than a few seconds.

Somehow he managed to pump his hips over and over again, sliding his hand beneath the small of Bellatrix's back and holding her close as he filled her.

"Marry me," he murmured, and she was about to remind him that she'd already agreed. Then he added, "Tomorrow. Down on the beach, just the two of us. Marry me tomorrow."

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix could barely hear her own voice. As Voldemort came inside of her, his breath huffing against her neck, she realised how far she'd come with him in just a few months. It had not been all that long ago that Albus Dumbledore had drained Lord Voldemort of his magic. It had not been so very long since the time that Voldemort had Apparated down onto the beach and Splinched himself, leaving Bellatrix to heal him. She could still vividly remember the sight of him in the threshold of her short-held flat in London, the place where he'd first touched his mouth between her legs. It had not been so very long since all of that, and yet marrying him tomorrow seemed like just precisely the right thing to do.

Author's Note: I apologize if this was a mess or if it didn't live up to normal standards. I am not at all in a good place right now (I have schizoaffective disorder, OCD, PTSD, and epilepsy in addition to my hypergraphia). Writing has helped a little, I'm in close touch with my psychiatrist, and am taking extra meds. Please do be kind if there are a few days without updates. In the meantime, I appreciate your readership and feedback more than you know. Thank you so very much.