Chapter One
Late evening, I felt that stinging pain trace itself along the pattern tattooed on my forearm. If you can imagine someone taking a red-hot needle and dragging it deep into your flesh, you can see why it would be something to wake me up. I knew what it was, but it's frequency in arrival wasn't very easing to my mind. Slowly I rolled from under my bed sheets, staring over at my sleeping partner; I didn't feel like leaving him once again for the demands of my Lord, but it would have been better than the consequences to face if I hadn't. After pulling my eyes away from my lover, I climbed out of bed and picked up the clothing scattered carelessly from a fit of endless passion, dressing and sliding into my boots and robe; groping in the dark for my wand and placing it inside of my robe. Carefully I brought myself through the open window and out on the balcony, disappearing into the shadows of the night with a loud pop.
I woke up merely seconds after I disappeared, the cold air whizzing itself around furiously in a tornado-like funnel shocked my flesh and forced me out of my tired-state. I pictured my Lord's residence, where he and his own would congregate together for our meetings, soon finding myself running through the air until my feet touched the ground in a controlled landing, within the confines of my master. The sting in my arm grew stronger, I guess he knew as well as I had that I arrived. I carried myself through the hallway, looking around at dust covered portraits, cobweb decorated corners, grimacing from the smell of the rotting wooden supports of the home. It wasn't for a while that I last saw my master, almost two years ago it was that the boy who had survived invaded our territory from a premonition his scarred little head invented one late evening. I remember it clearly, and because of my lacking performance, so did the one I called my Lord; but it couldn't have been this for which he was calling me here tonight. He already inflicted his punishment upon on Narcissa Malfoy, by making her son a follower in Lucius' footsteps, only just to fill in while he was in the Azkaban prison walls. The evening where the Death Eaters ran through the hallways of one oh-so familiar school went according to plan, the only mistake was Draco's refusal to complete the deed. I had no part in it, restricted from my duties as my own punishment for that evening when Sirius Black passed through the veil. I couldn't think of why I would be called here at such an inconvenient time of night, and so lead myself blindly to my Master's office. I found the door, taking the brass handle and forcing it out of the threshold's sticking grasp.
The rusted supports groaned against their nails and rotting beams as I opened the door wider into the office of much familiarity, pulling myself in after it and shutting the door as soon as the last of my robe dragged itself along the dirty carpet and back at my feet. It would have been inappropriate to call out for a name, being it a false alarm, which I doubt it was, so I strode slowly into the dust painted carpet, sitting myself in a chair and looking out at the moon from a filthy window pane. I remember the first time I was even in this office, barely fresh out of Hogwarts, and finding myself bowing at the feet of the one I now call my master..He stroked his pale fingers through my hair, cooing praises for my submission into his power, especially at a delicate age of thirteen. He laughed as I told him of my disgust for the scurge of mudblood students running rampant through my school; oh how did I admire his laugh, as smooth as his voice, elegant and cool. "I can only imagine how awful it must be for you, knowing that muggle-loving Dumbledore, he's probably let in anyone who can wave a stick and spit out, ' wingadrium leviosa ' pitiful." He told me of the devotion needed to become what I wanted, the patience, the practice, the skill. It was a costly demand, upon my life, upon my reputation, but I didn't care. About a year later, he took me under and led me into his world. I was his favorite, despite what those may say about what only they think they know about. The Dark Lord and I had more of a bond than anything, sharing the powers of the Dark Arts and the knowledge on how to perfectly execute each incantation. I've been what I am since graduation, it has been more than twenty years, and I am still loyal at his side. The door swung open, only slightly I turned my cheek, letting my eye glance out from the brim of my hood, curling my lips in a smirk as I saw He-Who-Must-Always-Be-Praised enter and take position behind his desk.
"Welcome back, Lestrange." He cooly spoke, I had chills in my body, wrapping my fingers into the sleeves of my robe. "I'm glad you received my message. Your hood, off." I reached up and removed the veiled from my face, pulling out my sleek ebony hair and allowing it to cascade over my chest. The moon through the window illuminated my pale skin and the shadows hid themselves along my sunken cheeks and eyes. He sat on the edge of his desk, long sleek fingers wrapping around the throat of a wine bottle, summoning two glasses and pouring it's sanguine contents within them. "Ah, there's no need for informalities here, right?" We lifted our glasses once I took mine, then let our pallets soak in the flavor. "You're probably wondering why I called you here so late in the evening, Bella." I shook my head, laughing slightly into my glass. "No, now I'm wondering why you chose such a cliched opening to your reason." He grinned, but only slightly. "Why does there have to be a reason, my servant? Relax, enjoy your wine." We sat in silence, staring out of the window as we nursed our glasses. "Now, onto personal business. You understand that since your probation has been lifted, your assignments have been less and less, if you haven't noticed. I will say now that it is no vendetta against you or your performances, but quite the contrary. My Bella, there are things from you I wish to acquire that cannot come from the death of innocent mud-bloods and the devotedly wasted years within the walls of Azkaban.." He smiled, reptilian eyes glossing over my absorbed expression, continuing. "Many of my servants say they will do anything for me, Wormtail, Crouch, Malfoy, you know them."
"All liars, sir." He grinned.
"Yes. Which is exactly why I turn to you. You're the only one, Bellatrix who can make my demands come true." He set his glass down, taking my hand in his long, narrow one, leading me from my seat and pulling me level to his flattened nose. I looked up into his eyes, now I was starting to become a little worried. What could it have been that he wanted me to do for him? My Lord has been quite vague before, but never as much as this. For the first time, I misunderstood his elegance, he smiled and stroked my hair, planting a kiss on my forehead. "If only you could be part of my world as much as the aurors think they are. If only you could grasp the very idea which I've presented to you as my partner and not a follower. My Bella."
"As your partner?" I momentarily paused, sponging up his words in my mind. I finally pieced it together. "Get the fuck out of here!" I pushed myself away, laughing in disbelief. My Lord, my master, hadn't succumb to the power of love, did he? If it had been so, as sad as the very idea, it was indeed hilarious. "You have to be kidding me. I'm going back home to my partner. Goodnight, sir. See you next meeting." I spun around, the cloak following after me, moving to the door and opening it again. It was all of a sudden, that Nagini wrapped her body around my ankles, and her master came up from behind me.
"Don't mock me as though I were one of your pathetic victims, servant." He was strict this time, giving my hair a tug, hissing lowly into my ear. "Don't speak of this to anyone, not even Rodolphus. And do not deny my needs, or I will deny you of yours." His serpent released me, and he forcefully pushed me over the threshold, slamming the door shut into my face.
Never did I intend to upset my Lord, but for such a fearfully regarded man to fall to the power of love, or whatever he was getting at, it was so much to laugh at. But what did he mean by his needs? Was it necessarily that much of a want for him? Maybe I misinterpreted it.. Yes, it had to be. For him to fall in love would seem like something out of a poorly written book or fan-fiction. I finally arrived home, laying back into the bed this chapter once started in, staring over at my partner, the one who caused me to fall to the power of ...love. I grimace at the thought, but promised myself no more.
