August 1973

Kensington, London

Bellatrix bit into her apple and chewed, turning the page of the book that was flattened on the dining room table. She set down her apple and swallowed her bite, picking up her glass of pumpkin juice and sipping.

"What are you reading?" asked Rodolphus from across the table. Bellatrix set down her pumpkin juice and picked up her scone. She chewed a bite and washed it down with a little more pumpkin juice, and she met her husband's cheerful blue eyes.

"It's a book called A Year In Quiet Darkness," Bellatrix explained. "It's written by a witch called Tiresia Pindar. Her husband, who hated her, cursed her and took away her sight and hearing. He also snapped her wand. She was forced to survive on her own - figuring out how not to starve or die of thirst - whilst blind and deaf, all the while trying to regain use of her senses."

"Interesting." Rodolphus chomped on his own scone. He swigged some pumpkin juice and speared a rasher with his fork. "Did she ever manage to hear or see again? I reckon she must've, if she wrote that book."

"She rather brilliantly made her way to Athens," said Bellatrix, "by communicating carefully through writing and by speaking quietly to strangers. Eventually, she worked her way to the magical centre of the city, and then she got help. She got a new wand."

"And what happened to her husband?" Rodolphus asked, setting down his fork and sausage. "The one who cursed away her senses and broke her wand?"

"Well, I'm very nearly finished with the book," Bellatrix said, "but I do not suspect that Tiresia Pindar will reveal what revenge she took."

Rodolphus smirked. "Where did you get a book like that, anyway? Been off to Knockturn Alley?"

"Oh. Erm… no. It belongs to the Dark Lord. He loaned it to me. He wanted me to read it, to learn how to defend and heal myself in case an enemy ever cast a curse like this upon me." Bellatrix bit into her apple again and sniffed, glancing down at her book.

By the time I could see again, the light was blinding. The clarity of outlines was shocking; had things always been so vivid? Had colours always been so vibrant? Somehow, in a year, my memory of what things looked like had faded and collapsed. I had forgotten, in a way, what it meant to perceive the world through sight at all. This does not mean in any way that I had lost my appreciation for the ability to see. Instead, it meant that I had begun to adapt, purely out of necessity. When given my sense of sight again, I hardly knew what to do with it at first. I quickly realised that I -

"Bella?"

She looked up again, still holding her apple, and stared at Rodolphus. He raised his honey-toned eyebrows and wondered,

"The Dark Lord is… assigning you homework?"

Bellatrix sighed. "I suppose you could say that. He wants to train me a little more. Work my mind and abilities a little harder."

"But you're already his most ferocious Death Eater," Rodolphus argued. "You're already so much better at fighting than the rest of us."

"Well, perhaps that's why he wants to train me further," Bellatrix shrugged, taking another bite of apple. She chewed it and still had a mouthful as she mused, "Perhaps he wants me to be exceptionally skilled so that I can serve him even better. I won't complain. Will you?"

"No. Of course not," Rodolphus said softly. "I'm proud of you. He thinks so highly of you."

Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot. She thought back a few days, to when Voldemort had snared his fingers into her hair and pulled her close by her belt. She thought of the cold, oceanic smell of him, of the feel of his tongue grazing over her lip. She shut her eyes and set down her apple on her plate.

"Bizzy," she snapped," I've finished with my breakfast."

"You've hardly eaten," Rodolphus protested, but Bellatrix opened her eyes as the House-Elf appeared in the flat's dining room and used magic to clear Bellatrix's plate and glass away. She shut her copy of A Year In Quiet Darkness and said softly,

"I'm going to the parlour to finish reading this, and then I'm going to return it. I promised I'd get it back to him quickly."

"Yes. Of course." Rodolphus nodded. He pushed the tines of his fork into another rasher and said, "I'm going to finish my breakfast."

"See you, then." Bellatrix pushed back her chair, and Rodolphus said carefully,

"Bella."

She paused, standing across the table from where he sat, holding the book in one hand and suddenly feeling oddly self-conscious in her wispy black nightgown. Rodolphus looked her up and down and turned up half his mouth as he told her,

"I really mucked up on the mission, taking that Knockback Jinx and slamming my head. But I heard you blocked Adonis Copper's attack and took him out like it was nothing. Rabastan heard you taunting Copper after you killed him."

"Yes, well, the Dark Lord quickly put a stop to that folly and sent me away," Bellatrix shrugged. "I'm glad your head is all right now. The Daily Prophet is still shrieking about the 'massacre.' We've got them in an utter panic. It's glorious, isn't it?"

"Glorious," Rodolphus agreed. "Go and finish your book."

She smiled a little at him and nodded, walking out of the dining room with Lord Voldemort's book in her hand.

Bellatrix stood staring at the double doors of Malfoy Manor and chewed so hard on her lip that she thought it would bleed. Never in all the time she'd been a Death Eater had she felt nervous standing here. Well, that wasn't quite right. She'd been awfully nervous the day Lord Voldemort had put the Dark Mark upon her. But things had changed since then. She had tortured and killed for him. She'd sat in meetings where he'd crowed about news stories fearfully telling of their deeds. She had listened to him lecture the Death Eaters about Dumbledore here. Bellatrix was strong, and wild, and mostly fearless. But right now, for some reason, she was terrified.

It was because he had held her, she thought. It was because her lord and master had put his hands upon her and had pushed his tongue between her lips, and had given her a book, and had sent her away. He'd thought for a moment about having her spend the night, she knew. But then he'd thought the better of that and had dismissed her. Now she stood with his book clutched to her chest, wearing a simple long-sleeved black linen dress, and she sighed. She finally gathered the courage to raise her hand and slam the knocker against the door three times, and she shut her eyes as she whispered,

"It'll be fine."

"Bellatrix."

Bellatrix opened her eyes and was shocked to see Lucius Malfoy standing in the doorway. She scowled and tightened her jaw, demanding rather rudely,

"Where's the elf?"

"Oh." Lucius' pale brows rose, and he explained, "My mother has some friends over… your own mother's here, as it happens. Dobby is attending to them."

"I see. I don't much care to see my mother today, if I can help it," Bellatrix said. "I didn't come for her, you understand."

"You came for him, I take it," Lucius said, and Bellatrix realised she was still standing outside the manor.

"May I come in?" she snapped, and Lucius opened the door and stood aside.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Shall I show you to his office? You know the way."

"I can go myself. Tell Cissy I said hello," Bellatrix said. Lucius flashed her a little smile and shut the door, and Bellatrix pattered past him and up the flight of stairs in the foyer. She walked as briskly as she could down the carpet runner and past the parlour where she heard a gaggle of witches chattering. She didn't want her mother to catch sight of her, so she practically dashed past the open doorway. By the time she reached the stout entrance to Voldemort's office, she was breathless and her cheeks were hot. She knocked quickly and firmly on his door, and when, after a moment, he did not answer, she dared to knock again.

His door opened, and suddenly he was standing before her in a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and woolen trousers. It appeared as though he'd removed his outer robe and hadn't put it back on before answering his office door. Bellatrix felt her lips fall open a little, and she gulped. She held out the book and said quietly, so her mother down the corridor did not hear her,

"I have come to return your book, Master."

"Do come in." Voldemort made way for her to enter, and once she did, he shut the door and gestured toward his desk. There was a chair clearly meant for him, a grand piece of furniture with brass nail trimmings and extravagant brown leather. There was a smaller chair on the other side of the desk, carved wood, and Voldemort said softly, "Sit."

Bellatrix obeyed at once, sinking into the wooden chair. She still held his copy of A Year In Quiet Darkness, so she set it on his desk and watched as he went to his drinks cart. He seemed to contemplate the bottle of firewhisky before him, then glanced at the clock on his wall and looked back at the cart. He finally reached for a different bottle, and Bellatrix read the label. Cucumber Lemon Water with Mint. Bellatrix licked her lip, feeling suddenly thirsty.

"Glacius." Voldemort cast Freezing Charms upon the two glasses that he brought out, and then he uncorked the bottle of Cucumber Lemon Water with Mint and poured it into the chilled vessels. He corked the bottle again and carried the glasses over to the desk. He sat in his own chair, pushing Bellatrix's drink toward her and musing,

"I trust you'll like this better than firewhisky."

Bellatrix smiled and picked up the glass. She sipped and let out a happy little noise, setting down the glass.

"Delicious, Master," she affirmed. "Thank you."

"So." He drummed his fingers on his desk. "You've finished the book."

"I have." Bellatrix threaded her fingers into her curls and pushed them back from her face. She watched Voldemort's eyes shift a little at the action, and he cleared his throat and sipped his refreshing drink. Bellatrix huffed a breath and said, "I thought it was absolutely brilliant, the way she managed to function, really function, without the sight and sound her husband took from her. Using her other senses, like touch and smell and taste, to keep herself safe, showed a real ability to survive. And it was a mark of sheer determination, the way she resolved to get back to wizarding Athens and find magical assistance. I must ask, and Dolph was interested, too… do you know what happened to her husband?"

"She killed him, eventually," Voldemort smirked. "She didn't put that bit in the book."

Bellatrix grinned. She sipped her Cucumber Lemon Water, tasting the crisp mint finish, and she hummed, "I'd have done the same."

"You'd have done worse, probably," Voldemort guessed. He aimed his pale wand at the book and then arced it toward the bookshelf, nonverbally Banishing A Year In Quiet Darkness back to its shelf. "I've another text for you to study, on the topic of self-defence in combat. Accio Secure Safeguards For Diabolical Duels."

Bellatrix chuckled a little at the over-the-top title, but as a thin little book came soaring out of the shelf, she forced her smile away and steadied her face. Voldemort caught the little turquoise volume and held it out to Bellatrix, who bowed her head as she took it. She opened the book to the first full page of text and began reading aloud.

"Most instruction in duelling includes some training in deflecting, blocking, and even dissolving oncoming spells. Protego is, perhaps, one of the most important spells in self-defence instruction of young witches and wizards. More advanced duelling combatants, however, can achieve more than simple blockage and protection. With the right spells, the right skill, and the right willpower, skilled practitioners can cause oncoming hexes and jinxes to rebound to their casters."

"Your skills in battle are undeniable," said Lord Voldemort quietly. "I have never seen anyone kill as efficiently and effectively as you."

That wasn't true, Bellatrix thought at once. She wasn't nearly as vicious as him. But he curled up half his mouth and dragged a fingertip around the rim of his chilled glass as he murmured,

"You and I are both terribly cruel, and I like it that way. I did also see the way you blocked Adonis Copper's jinx. I think it would be even better if you could manage to whip hexes back at opponents we mean to capture instead of kill. This book contains skills I'd like for you to bring to our next battle."

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix shut the book and nodded. "I shall read it carefully and have Dolph practise with me. I'm sure he won't mind dealing with a pumpkin head or a few chicken feathers in the name of the cause."

"I shall work with you, once you've mastered the theory," Voldemort said lightly. Bellatrix raised her brows and glanced out the window behind him. She swallowed hard, imagining herself locked into a practise duel with Lord Voldemort. She blinked and murmured,

"So it is true, then, Master. You wish to train me harder than the others."

"I wish for you to be the soldier I know you can be," Voldemort told her in a crisp tone. "I spent years studying the Dark Arts on the Continent. Why ought I not pass on some of those lessons to my most ferocious lieutenant?"

Bellatrix's eyes watered. She found herself overwhelmed by the idea that he considered her his best fighter, that he wanted to tutor and equip her more thoroughly for combat. Would she be spending more time in this office with him, drinking infused water and discussing his books? Would he kiss her again? Would he touch her again?

"Bellatrix." She raised her eyes to him, and Voldemort gave her a serious look. He nodded and said,

"I will teach you to be the finest Dark witch this world has seen in some time. But you must be willing to work diligently. You will read all the texts I provide you. You will practise duels with me. You will learn Occlumency. There will be more once you've mastered all that. Your Dark studies are critical; I require that my servants act to the fullest extent of their abilities. I know you are capable of more, Bella. You kill with abandon. You are a beautifully impressive murderess. But you could be…"

He trailed off, and he pulled his teeth over his bottom lip before he finished almost gently,

"Magnificent."

Bellatrix lowered her head again, feeling so bashful that she could hardly breathe. She stared at the book in her hands, much smaller than the other text she'd borrowed, and opened it to a random page.

When an unknown Hex or Jinx flies toward you and is cast nonverbally, your instinct may be to immediately cast Protego. It will take time and effort to train away this instinct and replace it with the impulse to instead cast Remittet. This spell is cast with a simple downward slice of the wand and must be exclaimed clearly. The Hex or Jinx will rebound off its target and bounce back to its caster, who will probably not expect it.

Bellatrix shut the book and nodded. She raised her eyes again to Voldemort. "I will work earnestly for you, Master. My every waking moment will be consumed with -"

"Bella."

She froze, watching as her master picked up his chilled glass of Cucumber Lemon Water and sipped it. He seemed resolved then, and he pushed back his chair and rose. He stepped around his desk and pushed up his rolled sleeves a little further. Bellatrix took a moment to admire his lean, sinewy forearms as he crossed them over his chest. His throat bobbed a little as he neared Bellatrix's chair, and she found herself wondering if she should stand. He gazed down at her, and at last she pushed herself up on shaking arms and pushed the chair back with her booted foot.

"I… am curious," Voldemort said, clearing his throat a bit and averting his eyes. "I find myself wondering about your… I am curious, you see, about your chest."

Bellatrix choked out a bit of an awkward sound at that, and she felt her cheeks flush hot. She licked her dry bottom lip and repeated nervously,

"M-My chest, Master?"

"Mmm-hmm." He blinked, still looking away. His shoulders began swelling more deeply, but he said nothing.

Bellatrix took a trembling breath and closed the space between herself and Lord Voldemort. She was so fearful now, so hesitant to reach out and touch him, but something within her compelled her to extend her fingertips toward his fist. He still had his arms crossed, and his wand was clutched tightly in his right hand, but his left hand twitched a little as her fingers approached. Finally, he uncrossed his arms, and Bellatrix let her own hand fall to her side again. She started to take a step back, but Voldemort caught her by the small of her back and pulled her close at once. He yanked her snugly against him, his teeth digging into his lip as he stared down at her.

"You carry an aroma with you," he murmured. "Cinnamon and clove. So much warmer than, erm… it is pleasant, I find."

She wanted to tell him that he smelled like the ocean in winter. She wanted to tell him that he was hard as stone and iron, that his eyes were filled with shadows that drew her in. But instead she just stared up at him, finally realising she was close enough to see the faint lines and wrinkles in his skin, and she felt his hand splay on her back.

"I will study, My Lord," she promised him at long last, "and I will practise, and I will become the finest soldier you could ever -"

He used his free hand to cup her jaw then, and his wand pressed lengthwise against her cheek. She was breathless, and as he bent, she sucked in air hard. He pressed his lips to hers, and his left hand drew around from her back. Up her ribcage he went, over her linen dress until at last he reached the front of her chest. Bellatrix hummed onto his mouth, shocked by the feel of his hand compressing on the tissue of her breast. He massaged her a bit, squeezing and exploring. He cupped the weight of her small, round breast in his hand, curling his fingers and dragging his thumb over her hardening nipple. Through the thin material of her dress and her lace bra, the peak firmed, and he caressed it with the pad of his thumb as Bellatrix gasped.

His wand crushed her jaw and cheek as his hand tightened on her face, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue swirled between her lips and dragged along hers, finally pulling it into her mouth and suckling. He released her tongue after a moment and moved his attention to her lip, nibbling it and drawing it between his teeth. He was so dominating, Bellatrix thought. She collapsed against him a little, letting him fondle her breast and hold her face. Finally, when it felt like the two of them were completely out of air, Voldemort released Bellatrix, and she staggered backward, panting and flushed between her legs. She was burning, she thought. Her veins were on fire. Lord Voldemort had lit her on fire.

Well? she wanted to scream. Still curious? What did you think of my chest, Master?

But he just stood there, gnawing on his lip and staring at the copy of the spellbook he'd given her where it lay on his desk. He examined her glass of chilled Cucumber Lemon Water and folded his arms against his chest. Bellatrix flicked her eyes around his form and could not help but notice the sizeable lump at the front of his trousers. He was aroused, she realised. He had enjoyed that, all of that. He had enjoyed kissing her and touching her.

He walked slowly around his desk and rolled down the black sleeves of his shirt, doing up the buttons at the wrists. He used his wand to cast a nonverbal Ironing Charm to get the wrinkles out of his shirtsleeves, and he cleared his throat roughly as he pulled his lightweight outer robe off the rack behind his desk and donned it. He buckled up the silver clasp at his chest and sat in his heavy leather chair, picking up his icy glass of refreshing drink and sipping at it.

"Mustn't make a habit of this," he said tightly. "You come here to get a new book, I kiss you, I send you on your way. That mustn't become normal, you understand."

"I understand, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. She picked up the copy of Secure Safeguards For Diabolical Duels. "Shall I write you an owl once I've finished with this?"

"You should… erm…" Voldemort sipped at his cool drink again and then pushed the glass away a bit. "You know, your Dark Mark will go black and burn on Sunday."

"Is there to be a meeting, My Lord?" Bellatrix asked, feeling inquisitive now. He nodded.

"Our ambush in London went well. We did so well because we had good intelligence going in, and because we did well in combat. I would like for us to gather even more information, and to be even better prepared next time. This meeting will reinforce the importance of espionage, Ministry profiling, tracking, and battle readiness. That's all."

"Oh. I look forward to it, Master," Bellatrix said with a little smile.

"I'm sure you do." He glanced at his bookshelf, as though considering a few more titles, and he said, "That gives you three days to read that little book. You're a bright witch; I'm sure that's plenty of time."

"Of course, My Lord," Bellatrix agreed.

"Good. After the meeting, we shall draw up a schedule, a few sessions for duelling practise to train you in rebounding spells. I'll have a new text for you, as well. There will be none of the silliness that we… you know, none of the nonsense."

Nonsense. Bellatrix's chest ached a little. She blinked rapidly and struggled to keep her face steady. She nodded and whispered,

"Of course, Master."

"You may go, then," he said, and Bellatrix pushed back her chair. She rose and bowed her head, holding his little turquoise spellbook and suddenly feeling him all over again. She could taste him, smell him, feel his hands all over her. She met his eyes and said in a soft voice,

"Good day, My Lord."

He just nodded, so she turned and started to walk toward the door. She was almost there when he called from behind her,

"Bella."

She whirled around, and he was staring, steely eyed, from where he sat at his desk. His lips parted, then closed, and then opened again.

"See you Sunday, then," he said at last, and Bellatrix nodded.

"My Lord." She put her hand on the doorknob, turned it, and opened the door, feeling dizzy as she made her way out of his office and wondering if her mother was still here. Just in case, she trotted briskly down the corridor toward the foyer, and as soon as she was out in the gardens, she Disapparated with an uncharacteristically loud crack.

Author's Note: I have decided to turn this fic into a class of stories I refer to as a "romp," which are typically around 25,000 words. I hope you enjoy it. Yes, I will definitely be finishing In Pursuit, possibly while also writing this one. Since this story is becoming a romp, its rating is being changed to M. Thanks!