"You're wearing that?"
"Is it that bad?" Bellatrix whirled around, feeling anxious. Lord Voldemort stared at her, open-mouthed and agape, and he shook his head.
"You can't wear that."
"What?" Bellatrix glanced down. She'd thought she looked rather pretty, as it happened. Her gown was crafted of extremely fine black silk. It was caped, with the cape pooling behind Bellatrix's feet. Her tiny waist was bound in by an intricately carved belt of thick silver. The skirt moved like water around Bellatrix's legs, and the sleeves hugged her thin arms just so. The neckline plunged all the way to the belt, revealing the gentle swell of her small breasts.
"I… I worked hard on it, Master," Bellatrix said softly. She looked into the mirror at her hair, which had been pulled into sleek braids crossing her head with a neat nest of curls at the back. She studied her gold clock pendant, her platinum wedding rings, and she asked the reflection in the mirror, "Do I look that ugly?"
"Ugly," Lord Voldemort scoffed disbelievingly. He appeared beside her, his reflection awfully handsome in tuxedo robes. His dark eyes glittered as he shook his head. "You're too beautiful."
Bellatrix rolled her eyes and turned to him. "Too beautiful, My Lord?"
He dragged his knuckles around her exposed chest, making her shiver, and then up around her collarbone and neck. He gulped and aimed his wand at her torso, and he murmured,
"Suturis."
Bellatrix was almost angry then as her very low-cut gown stitched itself up a bit. It was still a deep V-neck, but her breasts were mostly covered now. Bellatrix scowled at Voldemort and demanded,
"Why did you do that, Master?"
"I can't have everyone ogling your body," Voldemort said, his cheeks going a little pink. "If you go like you were… even like this, like you are now, everyone's going to be staring at you. Wizards will flirt with you!"
Bellatrix smirked a little, and Voldemort seemed irritated.
"Why are you giving me that look?" he demanded. Bellatrix sighed.
"Master," she said, "if you really think that my gown - or, rather, my breasts - will inspire lust in other wizards, why not use that to your advantage?"
He narrowed his eyes. "What the blazes do you mean?"
"Why not let them flirt?" she suggested. "Let them get rejected. Let them be reminded that these breasts, just like everything else, belong to the ascending Dark Lord. Let them realise that this young man, this wizard who isn't part of their haughty Pureblood circle, has a pretty wife they want. Let them realise that this wizard will have everything, and that if they want anything, they'd best get into your good graces swiftly."
Voldemort chewed his lip. He shook his head just a little, but Bellatrix pulled her wand out of the pocket hidden in her satin skirt. She aimed the wand at her chest and nonverbally incanted a Severing Charm. The gown opened back up, plunging all the way back to the belt. Bellatrix turned back to her boudoir and opened a jar of Pearlescent Paste. She dabbed a bit of the slightly sparkly creme onto the pad of her middle finger, and she smeared it carefully around her cleavage. When she turned round, Voldemort's eyes went right to her chest, and he said in awe,
"Your poor mother."
"I beg your pardon?" Bellatrix laughed, and when he kept staring at her chest, she reminded him, "I've got a pair of eyes, Master. All the way up here."
Voldemort's gaze finally snapped up, and Bellatrix giggled a little. Her husband - her master, the man who was just about to turn seventy in real years, the young and handsome and powerful new Dark Lord - finally met her eyes, and he said,
"You're not meant to upstage the bride at a wedding, Bellatrix."
She shrugged and insisted, "I'm sure my mother will look perfectly lovely. Shall we go?"
"Promise me something." He stepped closer to her, and he took her face in his hands. He seemed to study her thickly lined eyes, her burgundy lips, and he said carefully, "All those wizards who inevitably flirt with you… don't let them touch you."
Bellatrix curled up half her mouth and reminded him, "It'd be a lot easier if you just didn't let me out of your sight, My Lord. Just keep one hand on me and let them stare at my sparkly tits."
"Bella!" Voldemort coughed out a laugh then, and Bellatrix grinned as she wrapped her arms up around his shoulders. He tipped his head down and touched his forehead to hers, and he murmured, "Right. Let's go."
"To my parents' wedding," Bellatrix said, cringing and shaking her head in disbelief. Voldemort nodded and said seriously,
"To your parents' wedding."
Then he Disapparated, taking Bellatrix with him, and the two of them came to in the garden outside the sprawling country Rosier estate.
"This is so bizarre. And awkward. Bizarre and awkward. Awful. I hate this."
"Please stop." Voldemort curled up his lips as Bellatrix complained beside him. Bellatrix huffed out a breath and folded her hands in her lap. She caught the eye of Rudy Lestrange, who was staring right at her even as his wife looked ready to burst straight into labour beside him.
"At some point in your memory, Rudy Lestrange was my father-in-law, right?" Bellatrix whispered, and Voldemort followed her stare back toward Lestrange. He glared, and Lestrange's cheeks coloured. Lestrange reached for his wife's hand and brought a fist to his throat, coughing softly.
"Don't look now," Voldemort said, "but Hemingway Rosier is thinking about ways to try and get you into an empty room upstairs."
"Eugh. My great-uncle Hemingway?" Bellatrix hissed, and Voldemort shrugged.
"He doesn't know you're related."
"Still," Bellatrix mumbled, "He's got to be at least fifty."
Voldemort narrowed his eyes at her then, and Bellatrix's lips fell open. She shrugged apologetically. He may be in a young body, but he was an old man. Regardless of the form he took, he'd experienced fifty years of life that Bellatrix had not. She sighed and reached for his hand, giving him a very affectionate look, and she asked,
"When does this blasted ceremony begin, My Lord?"
"Right about… now." Voldemort turned his head, and Bellatrix rotated with him. A string quartet began to play in the Rosier ballroom, and the assembled wedding guests began to go hush. Bellatrix's stomach flopped as she watched two tiny girls come walking down the aisle, scattering flower petals that glowed and glimmered where they fell. Bellatrix knew at once who they were; they were her cousins Bettina and Marina. In her time, they'd both been married with small children of their own. Bellatrix gulped as her father's sister, Walburga, came walking down the aisle in a sombre but elegant emerald bridesmaid's gown. In Bellatrix's time, Walburga had been married to Orion, and they'd had two sons, Regulus and Sirius. But here, Walburga was young and lovely.
"This is so strange," Bellatrix whispered, squeezing at Voldemort's hand frantically. He turned his face back to her and gave her a reassuring look, and he murmured softly,
"This is our life now, Bellatrix."
"Yes. I know." She gasped then, for her own father had appeared at the front of the room, along with Horace Slughorn, who was apparently officiating. There were, after all, quite a few members of the Slug Club present. Bellatrix was overwhelmed by the sight of all the faces she'd known in her own time, in different circumstances. She turned then and rose with all the other guests, her eyes locking on the witch in a demure gown of white lace.
"Mum," she whispered, and Voldemort snatched her hand to silence her. Bellatrix's eyes watered. It was too strange, for her mother looked quite a lot like Bellatrix herself did. Their eyes and nose were the same. Bellatrix had her father's lips and chin, but she'd inherited her mother's black curls, stature, skin tone…
Druella Rosier was a vision in white, walking with a happy smile down the aisle on the arm of the grandfather who had died before Bellatrix had ever known him. The ceremony felt like it was happening on some other planet. Bellatrix watched in wonder as her father promised to love her mother forever, as her mother's hands shook, as they pushed rings onto each other's fingers. Then the two of them kissed, and everyone applauded, and Bellatrix hissed at Voldemort,
"I'm going to be conceived awfully quickly. What a horrid thought."
"Well, don't think about that. You heard your father. They'll call you Miranda or something." Voldemort smirked at her and led her away as the House-Elves began to clear the ceremony space and transform it into a place ready for hors d'oeuvres, drinks, and dancing.
"I didn't know my grandparents cheaped out on having a full dinner," Bellatrix mused as she munched on a bite-sized spinach quiche.
"It's common in this time," Tom shrugged, "not to have a full meal. Listen… I need to go congratulate your parents. I don't think you should speak with them. I'll be right back."
"You're leaving me here alone?" Bellatrix was mildly horrified, but Voldemort tipped his head and assured her,
"You'll be fine." His face was odd for a moment then, which made Bellatrix worry. Voldemort frowned, reached to stroke at Bellatrix's arm, and he told her again, "You're going to be fine."
She had no idea why he was so troubled as he walked away. She just set her plate down on a the tray held by a passing House-Elf, and she picked up a flute of Champagne, from which she sipped rather anxiously.
"Madam Riddle?"
At first she didn't respond to the name, for she had not yet grown accustomed to it. She sipped from her Champagne again, and then she heard a voice meekly say once more,
"M-Madam Riddle?"
Bellatrix whirled then, and she found herself face-to-face with Abraxas Malfoy.
"Oh. Hello, Abraxas." It was odd for Bellatrix to see him, for she'd always known him as the father of Lucius, who had been Narcissa's boyfriend even in Bellatrix's time. In 1996, Abraxas had been dead, and his grandson, Draco, was Bellatrix's nephew. But now, Abraxas looked like he'd been quickly indulging in the party's offerings of liquor, and his pale blue eyes were glassy. He stared at Bellatrix's chest for a moment, and Bellatrix gulped.
"Where's Adalie?" she asked bluntly, and Abraxas cleared his throat and raised his eyes.
"Oh. She's not here," Abraxas said. Bellatrix scowled and shook her head in confusion. Abraxas tipped his head and said delicately,
"The few times Druella and Adalie have met, they… erm… they haven't gotten along too well."
"Is that so?" That was amusing to Bellatrix, for she'd always known Adalie Malfoy as a warm older French witch, a close friend of her mother Druella. At some point, the witches would have to reconcile so that their children could marry. But Bellatrix just shrugged and joked, "So you're here stag, are you?"
"I was wondering if you might honour me with a dance," Malfoy said, and Bellatrix felt her eyes go wide. She glanced over to Voldemort, who was speaking to her smiling young parents, and she gulped. If she turned Abraxas Malfoy down, she risked the hospitality upon which Lord Voldemort currently relied. But if she accepted, she might anger her husband.
"All right. One quick dance," Bellatrix said, setting down her Champagne. Malfoy held his hand out, but Bellatrix didn't take it. She walked slowly with him toward the dance floor, and she gingerly accepted his hand and put her fingers on his shoulder. He had his icy blond hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, and his severe face looked sharper than ever. He was tall and hulking, overwhelming Bellatrix with his size. His eyes flicked to her shimmering bared chest again, and then up to her eyes, and he told her tightly,
"You're looking lovely this evening, Madam Riddle."
"I think he wants you to call me My Lady," Bellatrix said awkwardly as they began to dance. Malfoy looked surprised, but he nodded.
"He was so impressive at the meeting the other day. I admit I was almost dizzy with excitement."
"I think we all were," Bellatrix agreed. "He's going to lead us to glory."
"So he will," Abraxas agreed. They danced in silence then for a few moments, and after awhile, Bellatrix asked,
"Do you ever visit Adalie's family in France?"
"Oh. Yes. They live just outside Paris in a lovely chateau," Malfoy said. "We're due to spend Christmas there. You and the Dark Lord will have Malfoy Manor to yourselves, if that's all right."
"The Dark Lord," Bellatrix repeated with a little smile. "I quite like the sound of that."
"I quite like the idea of his reign," Malfoy said firmly. Bellatrix felt more comfortable dancing with Malfoy then, as if his lust had given way to a sturdy loyalty. She smiled up at him and said,
"He knows he can rely on you. You'll be the one he counts on first when times are trying, Abraxas."
Malfoy seemed quite proud then, but his face shifted and he bowed his head, stepping away from Bellatrix, and he murmured, "My Lord."
"Mind if I cut in, Malfoy?" Voldemort smoothly took Malfoy's place and put his hands onto Bellatrix, pulling her much closer to his body than she'd been to Malfoy.
"Thank you for the dance, My Lady," Malfoy said, and he strode away purposefully. Voldemort cocked up an eyebrow and said,
"He was lusting after you. I sensed it."
"We were discussing you, Master," Bellatrix insisted, and Voldemort nodded.
"I know. You're good servants, the both of you. Your poor father's bloody terrified. Do you know he's a virgin?"
"My Lord!" Bellatrix curled up her lip in disgust as Voldemort laughed. "Why would you tell me that? Oh, I did not need to know… oh. Eugh. Master."
"Sorry. I'm sorry." He stifled a grin then and rubbed his hand at the small of her back. He just studied her for a long moment, and he observed, "You do look like her. Your mother. Difficult to deny some degree of relation, but… oh, well."
"What if I'm not born?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort sighed. He shrugged and said,
"All we can do is keep on living, I think."
"Malfoy's going to Adalie's family's house in France for Christmas. Do you know that she and my mother hate one another right now? Isn't that funny?"
Voldemort rolled his eyes. "Yes, Adalie's always had a flair for the dramatic. Skipping a wedding… that's just like the Adalie I knew for more than forty years. Anyway. We'll have the Manor to ourselves for Christmas, then? Hmm. I've never really celebrated Christmas properly."
"No?" Bellatrix grinned. "I'll have to put a dozen presents under a tree for you."
"No." Voldemort shook his head and pulled her even closer. "All I need is a Wizarding Wireless with some maudlin carols playing, some decorated biscuits, and a pretty witch curled up beside me."
"Will you play with my hair?" Bellatrix asked meaningfully as she stared up at him. "Whilst you listen to those carols on the wireless, Master, will you play with my hair? I always liked when you did that."
"Yes, Bellatrix," he said seriously. "I will play with your hair and eat honey tart with you. And I won't leave you this time. You understand?"
She smiled and tightened her hand around his. "I understand, My Lord."
Author's Note: Nothing better than putting glitter on your boobs and watching your parents get married, am I right? Mwah hahaha. But don't get too comfortable… no way I'm going to let these two have a nice, peaceful, relaxing Christmas. :}