My Master

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.K. Rowling, as well as the settings, ideas, and generally everything in this one-shot.

I pace in his throne room, with my heart pounding, my eyes darting from side to side, and my hands sweating. What did I do wrong, I scream silently, as the soft ticking of the grandfather clicks on to the darkest day of my life. He was supposed to be pleased by my killing of the muggle-lover Sirius Black. He wasn't supposed to know that the prophecy had been destroyed, and all our efforts were to be wasted from months and months of planning. There is no doubt in any of our minds that I will be the one who is blamed for losing the prophecy. For it was I who urged him to follow through with this ambitious plan, this plan that risked everything that he had planed on for so long. And in it's own way, my own life.

And I failed in everyway possible.

I clench my hands at the thought of what he will do to me. Will he turn my fair skin black and blue? Or will he forgot my loyalty to him and send me to those ominous dungeons far below that it is said that no one returns from? A slight chuckle raises in my throat as I think about my husband, Rodolphus. Will he save me from my fate? I thought of every person I had met before and my heart sank. There was none, I knew, that would risk my lord's fury by protecting me.

He enters the room.

I fall to the ground in fear and begin kissing his robes and feet wherever I can. He moves his foot into my chest painfully and I am thrown back. His crimson eyes that usually hold slight affection for me blaze with anger as he hatefully stares at me. I can already feel the bruise appearing in my upper chest. Praying that his anger will break and quickly, I ignore my instincts and edge closer to him, crawling on the floor. His wand is in my face within moments.

"Get away from me." He whispers as he seems to barely control his anger. I stay still, fearful of the events that I was sure to happen after this. He whispers to Pettigrew as I shake with anticipation. Pettigrew smirks at me, that traitor, and leaves the room in a rush. Suddenly, I burst into tears, begging for forgiveness, my lips kissing his feet, the floor, his robe. Even though my chest is still stinging from the last kick, I blubber on about my endless loyalty to him and how it was not my mistake. He glowers at me as I do so, and I know that he might never forgive me for my failure to do anything right at all.

Pettigrew enters the room again, bringing in the remainders of his "inner circle", as my master likes to say, all scowling at me. They were his closest followers, the ones that would follow him to the end of his life. Many, I remember, were captured, even my master's favorite, Malfoy. With a slight pang in my heart, I remember how I used to be part of this elite group, queen bitch of all the female Death Eaters. But now, who was I in his mind? There are many regrets, I realized, but none most in this moment, as the fact that I never sought to befriend any of my fellow Death Eaters; only becoming close to my Lord's heart. They, even my husband, envied me because of my high class, and his obvious desire for me.

What a game I played; a game that I failed so miserably.

They speak in mutters. I hear phrases of disgust, of hatred, of decision. They turn their backs to me, and I scowl at them, knowing what their decision will be. He turns around. With a slight glint in his eyes, he calls me forth. Shame, in a deep crimson color, colors my normally cadaverous face, as I cautiously step forward.

"We have decided." He drawls in his low voice. I clench my fists, praying it is not what I believe it is to be. Suddenly, his eyes harden dangerously and my heart sinks. "Bellatrix Lestrange. You have failed me. Nay, it is not Malfoy or anyone else's fault, as I know you are thinking. It is your own fault. You, woman, have failed me. You were too reckless, easy to fall into Potter's traps. Now, many of my Death Eaters, some of my best included, lay in Azkaban. And the prophecy is broken." I shiver, trying to look at my feet, my hands, just anywhere except for him.

"Goyle has been generous, offering his time and energy to make sure you never forget this." I flush, realizing that all of his "useful" Death Eaters, so to say, are now in Azkaban. My heart bangs painfully at the thought of Goyle torturing me.

"Leave."

Goyle sprawls next to me, my hands and legs tied by rope. Ignoring my muffled complaints, he examines my body with his eyes alone. A slight sneer, as usual, appears on his face as he raises his wand.

My heart stops.

"Crucio."

"Scream, bitch!"

I let out a wail of agony as he slowly turns the crank. My muscles feel pulled out of their joints; my bones stretched to their longest length. Time has passed slowly on the rack. My wrists and ankles are tied by chain, as I am pulled apart with every second. Fire rages everywhere in my body. I can hardly breathe, my neck pulled so long. My eyes burn from not being able to release my tears, as I beg Goyle to let me off this horrible object of torture. He sees that I am very close to my ending point. Slowly, he lets me free.

I fall to the ground. Legs too weak to stand, I lay there, watching him smirk down at me.

The world turns black.

I am tied to the wall, chained by iron bolts. Naked, I shiver, but there is nothing I can do about it. There is no sunlight in this room, and I have long lost track of time. Goyle enters, with two masked men. I shiver, fearing what my punishment is today. They do not hold anything. One unchains me, while the other holds me firmly. It has been a few days since I have struggled against them. My ankles and wrists ache from being held by chain or rope, and my body aches with a rhythm that is relentless. Hunger gnaws at my stomach, as I stumble along with them. My throat is dry and cracked, as too many screams and too little water has gone through it.

I am led to the dungeon in which I have begun to fear with all my life. He ties me onto a wooden frame that is shaped like an x. They leave me there, as I limply hang, my arms being to ache. Returning, my heart begins thudding like a hammer. They carry whips of all shapes and sizes. My eyes follow their every move as they begin to circle me.

The one to my left gives me the first smack. Pain flares on my side, as I struggle to keep my mask of apathy on. Goyle hits me again, harder, on my naked breast. A scream tunnels down my throat, as they smirk with triumph. Again and again, they hit, my body filled with horrendous pain.

Then finally, my vision fades and there is no more pain.

My ankles and wrists have lacerations around them. I stare at myself in the mirror before I enter the meeting. He tells me I must wear this rough black robe. It is torn in many areas and the smell is overwhelming, but I fear that if I refuse to wear it, more punishment will come on my already bloody body. There is nothing I may do about it. I notice the lashes that cover my back and stomach, my legs covered with blood. There is nothing left of me, I see. My hair matted with blood, my eyes hollow with fear. I desperately ignore the throbbing pain that encompasses my body, from head to toe.

Goyle leads me into the room.

I cannot help my shame as I enter my mater's lair, with chains on my neck, hands, and feet. Perhaps it is to add to my humiliation, as my pale face turns a crimson shade, with those eyes on me, judging me. My chains wrapped around me clang, which cause many to turn my way. I hear whispers, one from that Lucius's son, Draco. "There's that bitch that ruined us all." His cronies, it appears, laughs loudly. He turns his flaming glare on me-so like his father-as I found out from Goyle that his father is in Azkaban under high security. I turn away, looking in the crowd for hope, for anyone to help save me from my ominous fate. There is nothing, except for disgust. My master stands before me.

I turn my eyes down, as he glowers at me. There is something different today, I see. His eyes do not meet mine, as he almost has a troubled expression on his face. Silence falls down on us, and it is deafening. My hands clasped, I pray for this chance to be free. I cannot say anything, for I know I will be punished.

Yet my voice calls out to him, pleading. "Master. Please forgive me." He looks startled, and then it fades into his usual apathy. My heart pounds against my rib cage as I hear whispers starting again. From a husky voice in the background, I hear them speak of how all of my master's plans have gone to waste, how the whole wizarding world now knew of his existence once more. My face reddens once more as I hear of how he was once more humiliated by Dumbledore. I look toward him, for a sign of hope. Out of the bitter coldness of his face, I see a familiar dance of affection in his eyes. He speaks.

"Bellatrix Lestrange, I feel that you have been punished enough. Leave now, and come back in a few hours."

My heart begins beating once more.

My master. I lay in bed, as I stare up at the dark wood planks above me. Two tears, two very small tears, creep down my face as I silently thank him with all my heart.

There are many, I know, who would do anything to know why I devoted my life to my master. I can still remember myself as a child, seeing myself with all the riches in the world. Some say, I destroyed my future by making my allegiance to my lord. But I know the truth. He gave me a life that I could enjoy, not being under the power of a husband. He gave me intrigue in my life, rather than giving birth to child and child. And most of all, he let me be someone, who the world would remember forever.

Harry Potter will die someday, and I will be there, taking pride in my Master's accomplishment. He will praise me for my killing of the traitors and muggleborns. And when my lord controls the whole of England, I will stand next to him, with envious eyes upon me.

I gave you my life, and you gave me back a world that was so bitterly beautiful.

And for that, I can never repay you.

Author's Note

I just felt like writing that. Don't ask.

Reviewing would be very, very nice.