She was doing this for him.

That was what Bellatrix kept thinking as she aimed her wand at the three-storey Tudor building before her. A Mudblood and his Muggle wife lived here, and their two children were home on holiday from Hogwarts. It was Christmas Eve, and these people had dirty blood. This was Bellatrix's Christmas gift to Lord Voldemort, destroying the entire flat in this small town outside Bournemouth where the Mudblood and his family lived.

"Finestra," Bellatrix incanted, aiming her wand at a ground-level window. She methodically moved from one window to another and first broke the window, then sent flames inside. "Finestra… Incendio. Finestra… Incendio."

She'd done this for him in other times, in other places. Screams started to sound from inside the building, and Bellatrix smirked as she lowered her wand. Embers began to fly out from the building, and the heat was getting intense.

"Oy!" cried a voice from behind her. Bellatrix whirled around with her wand up, and she was shocked to see another wand aimed at her. She didn't recognise the wizard who had his wand pointed at her, but as she shivered in the December cold, she studied the man's face and wondered if he was the Mudblood who lived in the building.

"What have you done?" the man demanded frantically, and Bellatrix laughed.

"It would seem I've set a fire."

"Expelli -"

"No." Bellatrix Silenced the wizard and quickly Hexed him. "Tetraplegus."

He yelped as he collapsed to the ground, and Bellatrix laughed to see him paralysed. But then, very suddenly, there was a chorus of screams from behind her, and Bellatrix turned slowly to see that the roof of the building she'd lit afire was collapsing. For some reason, all she could do was stare at it as it slowly fell. The burning wood crashed to the ground around her, and she felt a rush of excitement as she heard a woman shriek that she'd phoned the fire brigade from her building, and another woman exclaim that it was too late.

"S-Stupefy!"

Bellatrix was shocked as she looked to see that the partially-paralysed wizard had regained enough movement to grab his wand and aim it at Bellatrix. She gasped as she was rocketed backward, and she was distantly aware of heat, blistering heat.

When she came to, she smelled the distinct odor of burning hair. She looked up to see a Muggle fire engine spraying water at the shell of the building beside her. There were ambulances, too - the motor cars that were designed to take people to hospital. Suddenly a Muggle woman came up to Bellatrix and said kindly,

"Don't worry, dear; we're going to get a stretcher for you in just a moment."

"What? No." Bellatrix shook her head, which hurt badly. She tried to crawl forward, realising that some snow had fallen while she'd been unconscious. The Muggle woman bent to try and help Bellatrix, and Bellatrix shoved her roughly away, eliciting a gasp of horror. Bellatrix wrenched herself to her feet, and then she saw the wizard who had Stupefied her.

He was a constable. He was - or was pretending to be - a Muggle constable, the bastard. He was standing in front of the burning building, directing people, surreptitiously aiming his wand here and there at the injured people they were dragging out of the building.

Bellatrix had a broken left arm. That was very obvious. She had also hurt her neck, and she could tell that some of her hair had been burnt. Her lower back hurt so badly she could hardly stand. But she would need to Apparate, she knew. She didn't have a choice.

"Wonder if someone's Christmas tree caught fire," she heard someone say.

"How awful. Christmas Eve of all nights. I heard the entire Jones family was found dead," said another voice. Bellatrix ignored them. She whipped out her wand, aimed it at the constable who had Stupefied her, and she shrieked,

"Avada Kedavra!"

Then she Disapparated, hoping against hope that she wouldn't Splinch herself.

"Master!"

Voldemort looked up from the book on Necromancy he'd been reading. He flicked his wand at the Wizarding Wireless above the fireplace in the lounge and stood. He padded barefoot out into the corridor and called,

"Bellatrix?"

"M-My Lord? Please… please… help!"

He set off running then, toward the sound of her voice, and his heart accelerated in his chest. He turned a corner and found her collapsed in the corridor, half-lying and half-kneeling, heaving with uneven breaths. She smelled like fire, and it was obvious that part of her dress had burned away. Her left arm was hanging awkwardly, very obviously broken.

"Bella." Voldemort approached her and crouched down, and he murmured, "Legilimens."

He watched in her mind as she appeared in a village outside Bournemouth with the intention of destroying a building where a Mudblood and his Muggle wife and his Hogwarts student offspring lived. She wanted to do this as a Christmas gift for Voldemort. There were Christmas garlands and wreaths everywhere, and the cold night air carried the sound of distant caroling.

She started breaking windows, setting fires. Then she turned around and found herself staring at a wand. She paralysed the unknown wizard, and soon enough was unconscious in the burning wreckage of the Muggle flat. Then she was being aided by a Muggle paramedic, and she was murdering the wizard who was posing as a Muggle constable so he could secretly help the wounded. She was fleeing, Disapparating.

"You were seen," Voldemort breathed. "When the Ministry questions those people, they'll all tell them… they'll say they saw a young woman with black curls. They'll… Bella. This is bad. This is very bad."

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled, and Voldemort snapped,

"What on Earth were you thinking?"

"I didn't think a wizard would appear," Bellatrix insisted. "I thought… thought it'd be like the other times… set the fires and leave."

Voldemort let out a slow breath through his nostrils. He nodded. "Right. It's Christmas Eve. They'll have barebones staff investigating this, and not until the twenty-sixth at the earliest. I'll send letters tonight to everyone I know at the Ministry. I'll get employees Confounded, documents changed. I'll fix this. But, first, I've got to fix you. You're good at setting fires, and you're also good and getting hurt. I'm going to Levitate you. Wingardium Leviosa."

He dragged her down the corridor, and as he did, Bellatrix moaned softly, "I'm so sorry, Master. I've let you down terribly. I always do. I always fail you."

"Do shut up," Voldemort snarled, but Bellatrix continued moaning,

"I never serve you properly. I just wanted to give you a Christmas gift, and I -"

"Somnolus." Voldemort put Bellatrix to sleep, knowing that her self-loathing was being made much worse by shock and pain, anyway. He brought her into the lounge where he'd been, and he set her out on the plush, comfortable sofa. He arranged pillows beneath her head and began murmuring spells from where he stood above her,

"Ferula." Her arm mended its break and was braced up. He dragged his wand around her scrapes and bruises. "Episkey. Episkey…"

He touched at her burnt hair and shook his head. "Capilli Renasci."

Her curls regenerated, the crisped ends giving way to fresh new growth. He fixed up her singed clothes, her damaged boots, her dented gold pendant. He Scoured her whole body over and over until the smell of burning was gone, and he replaced it with a gingerbread aroma. He finally pulled her boots off of her feet, sat beside her head, twined his fingers into her hair, and started the Wireless up again.

"Rennervate," he whispered, and Bellatrix blinked her eyes open. She stared for a moment at her broken arm in its cast, and she hissed out a little noise of regret.

"It was meant to be a Christmas gift, My Lord," she insisted.

He smirked a little and said, "You know, ordinary people give ordinary gifts. But I wouldn't trade you for all the world, not your unconventional gifts."

"Oh." She sounded a little emotional at that, and then she surprised him by insisting, "You won't hurt my arm making love to me if I just keep it carefully arranged on a pillow."

Voldemort laughed softly and shook his head. "Perhaps tomorrow, Bella. Shall I give you your Christmas gift now? It might brighten your mood a little."

"If you want," she said quietly. Voldemort rose and walked over to the stout, tall Christmas tree in the corner of the lounge, under which there was a square box wrapped in dark green paper. Voldemort's hands shook a little as he pulled the box out from under the tree. He let out a steadying breath as he carried it over to the sofa. He knelt down before Bellatrix, who sat up a little and winced.

"Would you like something for the pain?" Voldemort asked, but Bellatrix shook her head.

"It's Christmas Eve. I don't don't want to blurry."

He smiled a little and nodded. He put the long box in her lap, and as he helped her unwrap it, he informed her,

"I gave you this exact same thing in 1974. Just so you know."

"Oh." Bellatrix seemed a little confused then, but she did her best to open the box one-handed, and she pulled out the pair of shoes inside. They were sturdy boots, yet very stylish, with a sensible zip up the inside and buttons and velvet for decoration. Bellatrix grinned. "I quite like these."

"They are… fireproof," Voldemort said with a smirk. "Waterproof. Potion-proof. They're battle boots, but still stylish for your pretty, vicious little feet. I had them made especially for you. You liked them then. You… you wore them in battle all the time. You'd be running through mud, setting fires, and come out looking perfectly fashionable. I… I can still see you… erm…"

He stopped then, for his eyes were burning oddly. He raised his gaze up to Bellatrix, who was staring down at one of the boots. She dragged a thumb over one of the buttons, and as Voldemort's stomach lurched, he noted,

"You know, I never did see you wear them after you married Rodolphus. I dunno; they might have worn out. Anyway. If I'd known where you were going tonight, I'd have given them to you earlier. Happy Christmas, Bellatrix."

"Happy Christmas, My Lord," she said, her voice sounding thick, like she were on the verge of tears. She hesitated and then said, "When you gave me the necklace, you said you never gave me gifts the first time round."

"Oh. Well. I did give you things, every now and then. Not maudlin gifts for birthdays, or Valentine's, or... I gave you these boots, and a few other things. Practical things." Voldemort's cheeks went hot. He gulped and insisted, "Only when I thought you needed something."

"What were the other gifts?" Bellatrix asked, but Voldemort shook his head vehemently.

"You can just thank me for these and wish me a Happy Christmas, all right?"

She looked embarrassed then. "Yes. Thank you, Master. Happy Christmas."

He helped her try the boots on, for she was one-handed for now. She seemed quite pleased with them, but when she stood, she yelped in pain, clutching at her lower back.

"Lie down." Voldemort examined her, and it seemed she had some sort of severe bruise or fracture in her lower spine. He frowned, realising she was going to be out of commission for a while. He aimed his wand at her and murmured, "Episkey. Ferula."

Then he helped her get her new boots off, and he went to the office Malfoy had given him - the office he would know well in both the 1970s and the 1990s - so that he could try and get ahead of any damage Bellatrix had done by being seen by Muggles in the village that night.

Author's Note: Oh, Bellatrix. She just wanted to give her husband the gift of dead people and fire. Raise your hand if you're antsy for a fluffy lemon where sexy young Voldemort's trying not to hurt Bellatrix on Christmas morning! Mwah hahaha.