31 December 1970

Mulciber Hall, Brecon Beacons, Wales

Bellatrix sipped on her third rosemary gin fizz and shut her eyes as the orchestral music blared. She was starting to feel the alcohol now, at half past eleven. She sipped again and considered what had already happened tonight.

She'd arrived with her family (except for Andromeda, who had disappeared to a friend's house and was no longer welcome at the Black residence in London). She'd worn an empire-waisted gown of white chiffon, with beading and bugles under the bust. Clasped at her neck was a floor-length chiffon cape, and on her bare left arm she wore a thick diamond-encrusted cuff. Her wild curls had been tamed with Sleekeazy's and cascaded down her back, pulled back just enough to reveal the ears from which teardrop diamonds dangled. Bellatrix wore the Winter Queen's crown, of course, and she had matched its aesthetic with silver and black eye makeup and pearlescent lipstick. She'd walked into the party feeling more confident in the costume than she'd felt since the crones had drawn her into the circle on the Solstice.

She had immediately been encircled by girls she'd known at Hogwarts, by admiring young wizards including Rodolphus Lestrange, all clamouring for a glimpse at the Winter Queen. She had immediately let Cae Flint fetch her a rosemary gin fizz. The swarm had faded as people started to dance and to munch upon the hors d'oeuvres on offer. Bellatrix herself had made herself a plate with some brie and baguette and fried oysters. She'd stood at a table eating and drinking, and then a figure had sidled up beside her and had said softly,

"Happy New Year."

She'd stared down at her food and gulped, shutting her eyes and thinking of the kisses in his office, of the feel of his chest beneath her hands, of the heady marine aroma he carried. Then she'd murmured in response,

"Happy birthday, My Lord."

She'd looked up at him, and he'd been so handsome that she couldn't breathe properly. He had donned the most perfectly-fitted tuxedo robes she'd ever seen, white tie and all. His dark, greying waves had been parted on the side and carefully combed. He was freshly shaven and his eyes were sparkling in the silver and gold twinkling lights. Bellatrix had struggled to speak for a long moment, until at last he had reached out to tuck the stubborn curl that always popped out of Bellatrix's hairstyles behind her ear. She'd nodded and mumbled,

"Thank you."

"The seventh of February," Lord Voldemort had said simply, and Bellatrix had tipped her head. He'd slowly lowered his hand from her hair and clarified, "The first Hogsmeade trip of the term is on the seventh of February. Lucius Malfoy told Abraxas, at my request."

Bellatrix had sucked in air and murmured, "Thank you, sir. It might have aroused suspicion for me to ask Narcissa."

He'd nodded and glanced out to the dance floor. For a moment, as she'd thought at the Christmas party, she considered that he might ask for a dance. But instead he just watched the swaying couples and had told her,

"Cedwyn Mulciber welcomed me to this party with a vow of loyalty and an announcement that he's gifted me five thousand Galleons. Your own father gave me five thousand the other day. Soon enough, I'll have sufficient funds to pay off spies in the Ministry and at the Daily Prophet. And to live comfortably on my own. I mean to rise properly, you understand. My political aspirations are, I admit, somewhat selfish. I mean to advance the place of witches and wizards and to create a Magical world entirely segregated from Muggle filth. But I also do yearn for my own elevation. I will be pleased as I gain more loyal followers. I mean to reign, Bellatrix. Like a… like…"

"Like a king," Bellatrix had said, and the weight of the Winter Queen's crown had felt very heavy indeed at that moment. Voldemort had turned to her and nodded a little. His eyes had flicked up and down her form, and he'd said softly,

"I have no remorse."

"Nor do I," she had promised, her heart racing as she thought back to the feel of his mouth on hers. She had swigged down the rest of her rosemary gin fizz, setting the empty glass on the table. Voldemort had just stared at her for a moment, and then he'd asked,

"Another drink?"

"Yes, please." Bellatrix had gripped the edge of the table, wanting him so badly she could hardly stand. He'd left, and when he'd come back with twin drinks, they'd stood in contemplative quiet for a long while. At last, he'd said rather awkwardly,

"Neptunus Malfoy is here. I need to thank him in person. Ring the bell with all your might, Winter Queen."

"I shall." She'd flashed him a little smile and watched him walk away. She'd finished her second drink far more quickly than the first one, and she'd immediately fetched herself a third.

Now she stood near a wall papered in dark purple damask, sipping from her drink with her eyes shut. Suddenly a throat cleared from beside her, and Bellatrix opened her eyes, swaying a little, to see Rodolphus Lestrange standing before her. He was dressed elegantly, but somehow he didn't look as handsome tonight as Bellatrix was used to finding him. He'd clearly put in effort to look good, but she just couldn't bring herself to have the sort of crush on him that she'd once had. He raised his eyebrows and asked her,

"May I have a dance with the Winter Queen?"

"Shouldn't you be dancing with Zinnia Greengrass?" Bellatrix asked somewhat sharply. She finished her drink and set it down on the tray of a passing House-Elf. Rodolphus licked his bottom lip and declared,

"I've already danced four times with Zinnia. I thought I might be granted a dance with the Queen."

"All right," Bellatrix huffed, and she let Rodolphus lead her out to the floor. They struck up a foxtrot - slow, slow, quick, quick - and Bellatrix tried not to stare into Rodolphus' eyes. She gazed instead at the pearly buttons on his dress shirt. Finally she asked, "How is Zinnia? I've scarcely spent time with her since leaving school."

"She's well," Rodolphus said cautiously. "She's working at Madam Malkin's, you know. If we marry, she'll likely have to leave the position, which she isn't pleased about. She enjoys designing and sewing custom robes in the shop."

Bellatrix scowled and raised her eyes. "Why would she have to leave the shop?"

"Well, because she'd be having babies straight away, I suppose," Rodolphus said, as thought that were very obvious. Reading the disbelief on Bellatrix's face, he shrugged and scoffed. "It isn't as though one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight witches can be lowly seamstresses once they become wives and mothers. The most consecrated duty of a wife in the Sacred Twenty-Eight is to promulgate the importance of Pureblood society, and for a witch, that means bearing children."

Bellatrix coughed inelegantly. "So, Zinnia would leave a job about which she is quite passionate to stay home and rear your offspring?"

"Bellatrix!" Rodolphus exclaimed, faltering in his steps. "You act as though the lives of Pureblood wives are misery! But it is traditional that -"

"Oh, damn all these traditions," Bellatrix snarled. She scowled and lowered her gaze. "I ought not to have said that; it is an honour to be the Winter Queen. Still."

"I'm sorry to have offended you," Rodolphus said, sounding flabbergasted. He shook his head and insisted, "I didn't mean to make you angry."

Bellatrix just nodded. The song ended, and Rodolphus gave her a little bow before asking,

"Would you like another drink?"

"I'll get it. Thank you." Bellatrix huffed away from Rodolphus, leaving him standing on the dance floor. She got in the short queue for drinks and put her hands on her narrow waist before a voice said gently,

"He upset you."

"My Lord." Bellatrix turned a little, woozy from the three drinks she'd already had. Voldemort reached for her shoulder to steady her and cleared his throat.

"You have to ring the bell in twenty minutes. Might I suggest that you abstain from any more alcohol until you've completed your duties?"

"Quite right," Bellatrix nodded, stepping out of the queue. Voldemort gave her a weighty look and asked,

"Dance with me?"

"Of course," Bellatrix blurted, far too eagerly. He just smirked a little and held out his arm. She gladly wrapped her hand inside his elbow and let him lead her to where couples were just striking up a waltz. He confidently put his hands on her and began to lead, his steps steady and sure. Bellatrix stared up into his face and just gaped, quite taken with the way he'd styled his hair and the way he'd worn a white bow tie.

"You are unfathomably pretty tonight," he said simply, and Bellatrix grinned.

"And you are inexcusably handsome, My Lord."

"He upset you," Voldemort said again, his little smile vanishing. He sniffed and glanced around. "What did he say to you to make you look so cross?"

He'd been watching her dance with Rodolphus, Bellatrix realised at once. She shook her head and said nonchalantly,

"Rodolphus Lestrange is convinced that the only purpose Pureblood witches serve is to bear children and sit at home whilst a House-Elf does all the cooking and cleaning. He's going to make Zinnia Greengrass stop sewing custom robes for Madam Malkin's if he marries her. That isn't what Zinnia wants; she doesn't want to sit idly whilst life rushes by her. She doesn't want to cradle a wailing infant whilst others have all the adventures."

"Are we talking about Zinnia Greengrass, or about Bellatrix Black?" Voldemort asked, and Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot. She looked away and mumbled,

"Both of us, I suppose."

He tightened his hand around hers and lowered his head just enough to murmur,

"You are going to have all the adventures, Bellatrix. Adventure beyond your wildest imagination. You are going to torture Mudbloods, kill enemies. You will be a warrior."

Her breath hitched a little at that, and she found his eyes again as she nodded silently.

"A warrior," he repeated, "who destroys everything that stands in her way. That is what you will become, Bellatrix."

The waltz ended, and Bellatrix pulled back to curtsy. She stared at Voldemort for a long moment and then said softly,

"Thank you for the dance."

"I was promised a kiss for my birthday," he reminded her, and Bellatrix curled up half her mouth. She nodded vigorously and noted,

"It'll have to be a bit of a belated gift, My Lord. I must ring the bell at midnight."

"After the twelfth chime has ceased to vibrate," Voldemort said, "I will leave this hall and wait for you in the corridor."

"Yes, My Lord," Bellatrix said, and she watched him turn and walk away.

A few minutes later, Mr Mulciber wheeled the large brass New Year's Bell out to the centre of the hall and called out to everyone to get flutes of Champagne. Bellatrix had a glass shoved into her hand, and she held it as she readied herself to ring the bell. She reached for the roughspun rope that dangled beneath the shining brass bell, and she wrapped her fingers carefully to grip it. She raised her eyes up and saw Rodolphus Lestrange murmuring something to Zinnia Greengrass, saw her parents and Narcissa eagerly drawing near the bell, and saw Lord Voldemort standing stoically with a glass of Champagne in his hand. Bellatrix gulped as Mr Mulciber stared at the large clock mounted on the wall and Amplified his voice.

"Ready?" he exclaimed. "Ten! Nine! Eight!"

Everyone began to count in unison, their voices creating a din in the hall. But Lord Voldemort just stared, his lips unmoving as he gazed straight into Bellatrix's eyes. She didn't break the eye contact even as the crowd continued to chant,

"Five! Four! Three! Two! One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The orchestra in the corner began to play "Auld Lang Syne" then, and people cheered and kissed. Bellatrix yanked hard on the rope in her hand, causing the brass bell to chime once. She did it again, harder this time, and again and again, counting carefully in her head. She was on the eighth chime when she looked up to see that Voldemort had left the hall. She sighed and kept pulling the rope. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. She let the bell ring out as people finished singing the traditional New Year's song, as they drank from their flutes of Champagne and continued embracing one another with wide grins painted on their faces. Bellatrix sipped her Champagne as Mr Mulciber wheeled the New Year's bell away. She stood alone for a moment, watching the raucous crowd celebrate, and then she headed toward the doors that led from the great hall into the corridor. She set her half-empty glass down on a table overflowing with pastries, and she walked straight out of the hall. She glanced to her right, then her left, and she saw him standing there, leaning somewhat casually against a wall.

She rushed over to him, her skirts brushing the rug on the ground as she walked. Her cape fluttered behind her, and her curls bounced a bit. She finally reached him, and he extended one hand to cup her cheek. She leaned into his touch and murmured,

"I hope you had a very good birthday, My Lord."

"It was better than most of my birthdays have been, Miss Black," he assured her. He sighed and then moved her a little until her back was to the wall, and he put one hand on her hip, his fingers curling around the chiffon of her gown and digging just a little into her flesh. That felt good, she thought. It felt so good to be touched by him. She leaned her head back against the wall, her crown moving precipitously atop her head. Voldemort used his free hand to adjust the crown and then bent down to touch his lips her forehead. He mumbled against her skin,

"I was promised a kiss."

"Yes." She wantonly tossed her arms around his shoulders and leaned up onto her toes, pulling him down until their faces met. He kissed her hard, and she drank in the feel and taste of him for a long moment. Her fingers instinctively stroked at the back of his head, caressing his dark, wavy hair. He grunted into the kiss at that, and Bellatrix considered that perhaps he liked being touched as much as she did. She scratched very carefully at his scalp, drawing little circles with her fingernails, and he sighed and moaned onto her mouth. He pushed her harder against the wall and then tore his lips from hers, huffing,

"We can't stay here. We can't snog in the corridor with all those people in the party. They're potential supporters of mine, and you are the Winter Queen."

"Then let's leave," Bellatrix suggested helplessly, and Voldemort let out a dark chuckle. He dragged his knuckles over her cheekbone and around her jaw, tracing her lip with his thumb and then bending to plant a kiss square on her mouth.

"Don't you suppose all of those people would notice the sudden absence of their Queen?"

He dragged his fingers up her ribcage and stroked her cheek with the other hand. Bellatrix whimpered a bit and grasped at the back of his tuxedo robes. He ground his burgeoning erection against her, and she could feel the firmness through the material between them. She gasped, tossing her head back again and nearly losing her crown. Suddenly Voldemort's mouth was on the skin beneath her ear, kissing the sensitive area gently as he murmured,

"No, we must go back in, Bellatrix."

"Don't stop," she begged him. He lathed his tongue up the side of her neck and suckled a little on her earlobe, eliciting a low moan from her. She let her hands caress his hair again as she shut her eyes and felt his weight pressing her to the wall. She mumbled frantically, "I don't want to go back in there. Please don't stop."

"Bellatrix?"

Voldemort recoiled away from her at the sound of her name. Bellatrix gasped in shock to see her father, Cygnus Black III, standing just outside the door that led into the hall. Cygnus gaped in abject horror at the sight of Voldemort and Bellatrix, and she realised at once that her father had seen her with Voldemort's mouth burrowed into her neck. Voldemort cleared his throat loudly and said in a careful tone,

"Cygnus. I was just telling Bellatrix that she ought to go back into the party, seeing as how she's still the Winter Queen."

Cygnus narrowed his eyes and stared at Bellatrix. He shook his head and snarled in a low tone,

"Your crown is crooked, darling."

Bellatrix reached up to adjust the diamond and sapphire creation atop her head. She nodded and flicked her eyes to Voldemort.

"Right, then," she said stiffly. "I'll just… go back into the party."

She rushed toward the door, passing by her father, but Cygnus reached out and grabbed her wrist so hard that she cried out. She stopped, and Cygnus slowly rotated them until he was staring down into his daughter's eyes. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, like the sight of his daughter tangled with the much older Lord Voldemort had filled him with shame and sorrow. He shook his head and said in a very sharp tone,

"I want you to go wish everyone a Happy New Year and make your way home, Bellatrix. Do not linger. Go home."

"All right," she whispered, feeling her own eyes burn. She could still feel the place on her neck where Voldemort had been kissing her, and she spared a glance back toward him. He had his hands neatly folded in front of his tuxedo robes and had tipped up his chin.

"Happy New Year, Bellatrix," Voldemort said, and she just nodded.

"Happy New Year, sir."

Author's Note: Oh, no! Cygnus caught them! What now? I greatly appreciate you reading and I'd be incredibly thankful for any feedback.