"Master?"

"Hmmph." He rolled a little where he lay, and Bellatrix mumbled from beside him,

"Master, it's been… erm… it's been twelve days."

He blinked his eyes open to see her standing beside the bed looking faint and drawn. She hadn't slept all night, he could tell at once. She looked very embarrassed, and as he slowly sat up, she whispered,

"I took off the Witch's Stopper Charm, just to see. I've never bled so much in my life, Master. It's been twelve days now. I do not like to complain about pain, but the cramping… it's so severe. I'm so dizzy. I feel… I feel…"

"Bellatrix?" He gasped then, for she slumped to the floor, completely unconscious. He leapt out of their bed, scrambling to the ground, feeling for a pulse. She was bleeding all over the ground, bleeding between her legs, and suddenly he realised what was going on.

He shut his eyes and thought back. It was late November now. A month ago, they'd been in Wiltshire; he'd been preparing Adderbury House. She had not been bleeding then. A month before then, they'd been in Morocco. She had not complained of any bleeding then. He'd cast a contraceptive charm on her when she'd come home from Azkaban… hadn't he? Hadn't he?

"Bellatrix." He yanked up her nightgown and shoved her legs apart, glaring at the way her blood was seeping out down her thighs in gory, endless streams. She was miscarrying. She could be as far as eight or ten weeks in. Voldemort clapped his hand to his face and let out a low groan, a keen of grief and distress. Then he frantically tried to remember the spell to expunge foreign tissue from a body. He'd had to use it on himself when he'd made a Horcrux and a bit of his victim's tissue had been retained inside his veins during the torturous process. It was the same spell, he knew, that Healers used with witches who had incomplete miscarriages. The same spell they used to pull out unwanted babies from witches' wombs. His wand trembled as he aimed it between Bellatrix's legs and whispered desperately,

"Expulso Xenocorpus."

A silvery thread of light wound into her body then, and suddenly there was an awful gush, a terrible flood of blood and clotted tissue that landed in horrid piles on the area rug. Voldemort shut his eyes and whispered,

"Expulso Sanguine."

She bled like mad now; he was drawing out her blood more quickly than it would naturally come. It formed puddles all around them, soaking into the carpet and his pyjama trousers, hot and wet and sticky. Bellatrix was still limp and unconscious in Voldemort's arms, and he screamed,

"Plinky! PLINKY!"

He cradled Bellatrix close and whispered a few things to her, things he wouldn't remember later, things that didn't really matter except to put his voice into her ear. He did hear himself say,

"In a few weeks, you're going to murder Josephine Glass."

"Master?" Plinky appeared in the doorway. "M-Master? Is Madam Bellatrix… is she alive, Master?"

"Get her some rose tea made up. On a cart," Voldemort snapped. "And some warm brown bread and butter. Bring it all here. Bring me Draught of Peace, Invigoration Draught, and Anodyne Draught from my Potions stores. Loads of rags. Towels. A fresh pair of knickers and a fresh nightgown for her. Go, Plinky."

"Y-Y-Yes, M-Master! G-G-Going!" Plinky Disapparated, and Voldemort began casting spells in rapid succession. He was glad he knew the incantation for the Witch's Stopper Charm - Quercus - and that he could at least strip Bellatrix naked and Siphon and Scour until she and the floor were clean. He got her up into their bed, and when Plinky came back, he dressed her in a fresh nightgown and knickers, and he arranged her propped up against the pillows, beneath the blankets. He quickly changed his own pyjamas and barked,

"Plinky, take those soiled clothes and launder them. Have you got the tea and bread? The potions? Good. You can go."

"Y-Yes, M-M-Master. So s-s-sorry for, for, for Madam B-Bellatrix!" Plinky sounded very upset as he ran away, and Voldemort huffed, shutting the bedroom doors. He brightened the sconces on the walls and walked over to Bellatrix with a dropper of Invigoration Draught. He put a few drops between her lips, and then he pulled an ornamental toile chair from beside the wall and sat beside the bed, preparing a cup of tea for her.

She liked rose tea, he considered. She had for as long as he'd known her. He'd developed a liking himself for it whilst she'd been away in Azkaban. It had made him think of her when he drank it. It had made him think of her battle dancing. It had made him think of kissing her. Now he poured scalding water over a bag of the rose tea, and he scooped a few spoonfuls of sugar in, and he sliced up some of the warm, rustic brown bread Plinky had brought. He slathered some butter onto the bread and put it on a little china plate, and then he heard Bellatrix murmur,

"Master? I'm sorry… I must have fainted."

"You've miscarried," he said, far too sharply. He turned his face to her, pulling the tea bag from her cup and laying it aside. He handed her the cup of tea, and for the first time in a very long while, he saw her fingers shake as she took the cup. Her eyes welled very heavily, and she whispered simply,

"Oh."

"Yes. I realised I've been extraordinarily clumsy in administering contraception to you," Voldemort said dryly. "Are you hungry? I've got bread. You've been bleeding for almost two weeks; by the looks of the tissue I extracted from you, you had an incomplete miscarriage and had retained material. You must have been very uncomfortable."

Bellatrix's lips parted and then trembled, and she sipped from her rose tea as she shook her head a little.

"I'm fine. I'll… erm… I'll attend more neatly to my own contraception, Master. I apologise for being sloppy."

"It wouldn't have been the very worst thing in the entire world, you do realise," he said, quite roughly. His voice felt thick; his throat felt tight. "It wouldn't have been so very awful, would it have? You looked out upon the lawn beyond the kitchens and you envisioned a child there. I could tell."

Bellatrix shoved the teacup back at him, spilling a little, and she growled softly,

"I am only eighteen. And, anyway, I hate children."

"Ah. Yes, I recall that now," he said gently, setting the teacup down and wandlessly Siphoning the spilled bit. He held up the warm, buttered brown bread to Bellatrix, and she finally snatched it, muttering a thank you as she took a little bite. Voldemort glanced at the clock; it was half past two. Something must have prompted her to leave the bathroom in the midst of the bleeding and wake him.

"You were in terrible pain," he said. "You were grey, and your lips were pale. You still look like a ghost. I should like to dose you with some Anodyne Draught. It will throw you for a bit of a loop, obviously. It's strictly controlled for a reason."

Bellatrix hesitated and shook her head. "I'm fine, Master."

"You are not fine," he said, snatching at the blankets around her. His eyes seared then, and his voice splintered in the air as he reminded her, "You were unconscious and bleeding in my arms. You lost our child."

Something gave out inside of her then. You lost our child. Something collapsed within her. The hard shell she'd developed over the last year and a half cracked. Her humanity showed through suddenly, and as her eyes rimmed red, she whispered,

"I am very sorry."

"No." He shook his head and reached for her face, and he bent to kiss her forehead. "No. I was careless with spells. You are very right; you are only eighteen. I am far too old to be so blundering with important matters like this. I must - and will - know far better. You deserve for me to know better. And I love you, and I do not like to see you in pain. So, please, Bella, just take a bit of potion and let me hold you for a few hours. Yes?"

"All right." She took another bite of the warm bread, and she took another sip of her rose tea, and then she cautiously took half a dropper of the blue Anodyne Draught that Voldemort administered her. She lay back a bit further and stared at the ceiling, and as Voldemort came to lie beside her, she murmured,

"Tomorrow's the first of December. That means it's only a few weeks until I get to kill Josephine Glass."

Voldemort smirked and encouraged her to curl up against him. He stroked Bellatrix's curls, but when he shut his eyes, he was haunted by the image of clots and bloody chunks rushing from between her legs whilst she lay motionless and grey in his arms. He shivered and stared at her for a moment, assuring himself that she was alive. He gulped, and she looked very serene as she mumbled,

"A week before I cast the Cruciatus Curse on Josephine, I got my period. We were in Potions, and Professor Slughorn encouraged us to take our black robes off so our sleeves didn't drag. So I did. Only, I didn't realise I'd gotten my period."

Voldemort felt extremely uncomfortable. He'd done far too much thinking about womanly bleeding today. But Bellatrix reached up, as if she could touch something on the ceiling, and she said in a bleary voice,

"Lucille Rosier had just whispered to be that I had blood on my skirt, and I was about to put my black robe back on and ask to go to the lavatory. Clean myself up. But Josephine pointed from behind me and shouted, 'Look! Bleak and Bloody Bellatrix is bleeding all over!' and the boys laughed and laughed. Professor Slughorn excused me."

She was quiet then for a long time, but Voldemort scowled down at her and whispered,

"You're going to leave her with her throat slit and a note beside her, Bella."

"Yes. Yes, I am." Bellatrix whispered. She curled against him and started to sing very quietly, an old song that Voldemort had not heard in many years, since he'd been on the Continent as a young man looking for immortality. Bellatrix petted his chest and sang,

"I can bleed, I can bleed, but I've all that I need in this one shining moment in this now, here with you. My love, though I die, let neither of us cry. I have all that I need in this now, here with you."

"You are not dying," Voldemort reminded her. "The bleeding has mostly stopped."

He reached for his wand from the table beside the bed, held it against Bellatrix's lower abdomen, and incanted,

"Nongravidare Trio. Nongravidare Maxima. Vacuaventris Maxima. Vacuaventris Trio."

Once the spells took hold, he knew she was safe for him for a few months, but he'd reinforce the spells monthly to be sure. He set his wand down again, and he heard Bellatrix mumble,

"I hate children."

"I know." He twined his fingers into her curls and pushed them away from her face, kissing her forehead, and whispered, "I know. I know."

"I will kill and kill and kill for you," she said softly. "Stars upon stars for you, Master."

"Sleep, Bellatrix," he insisted, but she curled tightly against him and started to cry.

"I hate children."

"Bella, just sleep," he tried again, thinking perhaps he should give her Draught of Peace. He pulled himself down beside her, cradling her up against him, and she was trembling with tears as she squeezed at his arms and insisted,

"I hate children. I hate them."

"I know." He brushed his lips against her cheekbone and whispered into her ear, "I love you. Please sleep. It's over now."

"I hate everyone except for you," she whispered, and as her breathing slowed and her quivering crying began to cease, she kissed his chest and said one last time, "I hate everyone except for you, Master."

He shut his eyes and nodded. "I know."

Author's Note: Well, if you know me, you know that I like to write pregnancy and miscarriage and a natural but extremely complicated experience, especially for Bellamort. And as she nears Josephine's death, both she and Voldemort are started to become just a little bit haunted.