"Dolph?" Bellatrix went into the parlour where Rodolphus was sitting with a copy of the Daily Prophet, and he folded the newspaper and set it down. Then his pale eyes grew very wide, and his full lips fell open, and he mused,
"You are the prettiest thing I've ever seen."
"Oh." Bellatrix glanced down at herself and felt her cheeks go warm. She'd put on a gown of black silk with velvet damask stamping. The long, tight sleeves had velvet cuffs, and there was a broad collar of black velvet around her neck. She'd worn a pendant of black glass in a heavy teardrop, and she'd put on dark makeup. She'd styled her hair in tight milkmaid braids that criss-crossed her head and had little pins of black glass beads stuck into them. Now she stared at Rodolphus and asked,
"Do I look all right?"
"Bella." Rodolphus stood from his armchair, walking over to her. He smiled down at her and twined a stray, wispy curl around his finger, tucking it behind her ear. "You are beautiful. And, yes, I well know that he will agree."
Bellatrix shut her eyes and shook her head. "He is our master, Dolph; it's not -"
"I'm not a fool." Rodolphus dragged his knuckle over Bellatrix's jaw and bent down until he could plant a very soft kiss upon her rose-red lips. "I am many things, Bellatrix, but I am not a fool. And I am not a jealous little boy, either."
He stood upright, and he nodded down at her. He curled up his lips, but the smile did not reach his blue eyes. Bellatrix felt her chest wrench, and she reached to touch at his forearm. He seized her fingers in his, brought them to his lips, and kissed them as he said,
"Go. It's nearly five. You mustn't be late."
"Right." Bellatrix gulped. "I'll be home… you know. Soon."
"Take your time, little soldier." Rodolphus smiled sadly again and said, "Go learn more about murder. My awful little wife; how delightful you are."
"Dolph." Bellatrix shook her head and blushed a bit. She sighed and stepped back from him, reaching into the holster at her hip and pulling out her wand. She held fast to it and flashed him one final look before Disapparating, thinking of Malfoy Manor. She whooshed into the pinching black void for a brief moment, and then she landed hard upon the grass in the Malfoys' garden. She scurried towards the front steps of the Manor, her gown's skirts whisking around her legs as she walked. She had not dressed for battle today. She had dressed for dinner.
Bellatrix tucked her wand away again and climbed the stairs up to the front doors of the Manor, and she raised her hand to the knocker. Was it quite five yet? Was she too early? Too late? She swallowed hard and decided to just knock. She slammed the knocker onto the door four or five times and then waited. After a moment, the door opened slowly, and a shivering little House-Elf stood before Bellatrix. Dobby, the creature's name was.
"Madam Lestrange. The Dark Lord is expecting you, Madam," said Dobby, sounding frightened. "Please do come inside."
"I know the way to his office," Bellatrix growled, swishing into the foyer, but Dobby stammered,
"D-Dobby is meant to show Madam Lestrange to the purple parlour, not the office, Madam!"
"The parlour," Bellatrix repeated. "Oh. I see."
Her stomach quivered with a bit of excitement at the idea of actually socialising with him, or at least at the idea of spending time alone with him outside of combat or his office. She walked with Dobby up the stairs and down the corridor, and Dobby grandly gestured toward a set of open doors that led to an elegantly appointed parlour with plum-coloured carpets, curtains, and furniture and heavy wood paneling.
"My Lord," Bellatrix breathed, stepping into the parlour and dipping at once into a curtsy. Lord Voldemort was sitting in a leather wingback chair with a glass of red wine in his hand, and he slowly rose as Bellatrix entered. He extended his fingers and wandlessly slammed the door shut behind her, leaving Dobby alone in the corridor.
"Madam Lestrange," he said tightly. She looked at him then, and she realised she had not been the only one to dress up. He was wearing black brocade robes that were far more formal and neatly tailored than anything he usually wore. She was accustomed to seeing him in loose, billowing linen, but today he looked professional, almost ceremonial. He reached down to the low table near him and picked up another glass of red wine, and then he stalked across the room toward Bellatrix. He held out the glass towards her and said,
"Elf-Made. A fine vintage. Do you care for wine?"
"Thank you, Master." Bellatrix took the glass and was about to sip, but he narrowed his eyes at her and smirked.
"You don't like wine. Not really."
Bellatrix's mouth fell open. She said nothing, shaking her head a little.
"With Occlumency," Voldemort said, "you could hide that fact from me. But right now I can plainly see in your head that you don't really like to drink at all. Hmm."
He plucked the glass of wine out of her hand and turned, walking back toward the chair where he'd been sitting. He set both glasses of wine down as Bellatrix wondered just how he'd managed to figure out that she did not care for wine. She hadn't even really been thinking about it as he'd handed her the glass.
"Legilimency is far more complicated than straightforward mind-reading, Bella," Voldemort pronounced, "and Occlumency is far more nuanced than simple blockage. There is subtlety and refinement in all of this."
"Of course, My Lord." She walked toward him, chewing her lip and feeling very glad she'd enchanted all her makeup to stay put until she Scoured it off.
"As it turns out," she said, "Cissy got to go with the Malfoys on their little holiday."
"Yes, I heard," Voldemort said, sounding and looking amused. "Lucius said he wouldn't go without her, since he's of age and of no obligation to go. I said that if Lucius didn't go, Abraxas and Yarla couldn't go. So that rather forced their hands, and now Narcissa's with them."
"Everybody wins," Bellatrix shrugged with a little smirk, and Voldemort rolled his eyes.
"Everybody but Yarla Malfoy, I should think. Your little sister drives her batty."
"Oh, does she?" Bellatrix could not help but laugh at that. "She drives me batty, too."
"I mean to make Narcissa a Death Eater," Voldemort said a bit gravely, and Bellatrix raised her eyebrows. Voldemort continued, "Yarla doesn't have the wherewithal for this sort of thing, but Narcissa needs to be the one hosting get-togethers, arranging the social lives of my followers. Organising the upper crust of the new civilisation we're promoting, you understand."
"Well," Bellatrix demurred, "Cissy will be perfect for that, My Lord."
"Hmm. Once she's back from Scotland, I'll put the Dark Mark upon her. You'll counsel her through what it means to be truly loyal to me." He nodded, and Bellatrix affirmed,
"Of course I will."
"You brought your notebook?" Voldemort prompted her then, sinking into one armchair and gesturing to the one opposite her. Bellatrix reached into the large pocket in the skirt of her gown and pulled out the notebook he'd filled with his handwriting. She'd grown quite attached to it by now. She sat down and held the book in her lap, confirming,
"I have been studying diligently, Master, and I can now manage to empty my mind so completely that Rodolphus found me in something of a trance this morning. Apparently I'd been sitting in the bath for an hour in silence with my eyes shut. He thought I was dead."
She choked out a little laugh, but Voldemort gave her a serious look and nodded.
"Good."
She let her smile falter, and she asked,
"What shall I do next for you, Master?"
He tipped his head and sighed. "Go blank for me now, Bella. Legilimens."
Bellatrix felt a thudding crash in her mind, as though he'd fully invaded her consciousness. She knew that he was often in her mind without her knowing, but right now he was flicking through thoughts and memories with reckless abandon, as though they were books in a library he was free to peruse. Bellatrix mentally watched, horrified as vivid images whirred by.
She was a girl, tossing an adder she'd found up into a tree. Narcissa was shrieking at her to stop. Andromeda was screaming that she'd go fetch their mother. The snake was landing on the ground and Bellatrix was tossing it right back up again…
She was a third-year Slytherin sitting in the Common Room, making eye contact with Rian Shacklebolt, a fourth-year Beater on the Quidditch team who possessed the mental capacity of a mountain troll. He was grinning broadly at Bellatrix, and she was covering up her face with a book to escape his gaze…
She was lying under Rodolphus, her hands rubbing up and down his bare arms as he swayed atop her. He was murmuring to her how pretty she was, telling her that this felt good, and -
Bellatrix felt a painful rip inside her head, like fabric being roughly torn. Her brain abruptly felt as though someone were tearing up parchment inside of it, and there was a yanking, pulling sensation. She blinked and stared at Voldemort, and he glared back at her.
"I told you to go blank," he snapped. Bellatrix let out a shaking breath and admitted,
"I… I tried, Master, but I couldn't destroy the thoughts. It was like living them all over again; I couldn't -"
"I confess myself disappointed in you," Voldemort sneered. "Evidently, my theoretical instruction was inadequate."
"Please, My Lord," Bellatrix begged, "allow me to try again."
He lowered his eyes, picked at his black brocade robe, and muttered quietly, "Legilimens."
Once more, Bellatrix felt the slam of him entering her mind. She immediately concentrated on what the thought he brought forth made her feel. It was an image of her killing Adonis Copper, of her kicking his corpse and taunting him in death. Bellatrix smirked a little, savoured the feel of the memory, and then shoved aside the thought. She fired a Killing Curse at the entire idea of it, blasting it to bits, letting the inky blackness of emotional nothingness devour the contents of her mind.
"Yes," she heard Voldemort hiss, and Bellatrix blinked a few times, smiling weakly.
"Have I done it, Master?"
"Yes." He pushed himself off the arms of his chair, and Bellatrix flew to her feet. She walked around the low table and neared him, and he reached out for her. He made contact with her jaw as her fingers brushed along her skin, making her tingle. Rodolphus had touched her earlier, but Bellatrix had felt nothing like this. She drew nearer to him and sucked in air hard as his left hand flew to her waist. He pulled her against his body, flush up onto his torso, his hand migrating to her back. His right fingertips slid from her chin to her ear, and he bent down.
Bellatrix moaned helplessly the instant her mouth crashed against hers. His lips urged hers open, and his tongue twined with hers. He dragged his tongue along the roof of her mouth, sending a shiver straight down her spine. Bellatrix impulsively grabbed at his face, feeling far too bold, but he did not protest.
"No nonsense yet," he murmured onto her mouth, pulling away just a little bit. His fingers tightened on her back, and she nodded. His forehead touched to hers, and he let out a low rumble of a laugh. "I want to feed you dinner first, hm?"
She shut her eyes and quirked up half her mouth, answering quietly,
"Dinner sounds nice, Master."
"You don't even know what we're eating yet," Voldemort muttered, kissing her again. She drowned in him for a moment, feeling his thumb brush under her eye. "We are having lamb chops with mint sauce."
Bellatrix froze. His lips grazed against hers, and she mumbled,
"Lamb chops are my very favourite."
"I know," he replied slyly. "You're still not quite accomplished with Occlumency. I searched your mind for the idea on Tuesday and instructed the elf."
"Master." Bellatrix cinched her fingers on his face, feeling the slightest hint of scruff beneath her skin. She tried to kiss him, but he pulled back a little and whispered again,
"No nonsense yet."
"Mmph," she whined, sounding like a child to her own ears. He smirked down at her and raised one brow. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his neatly tailored black brocade robe and said,
"I told you that I was curious about anticipation. Will you squirm on your dinner chair, Bella? Hmm?"
She felt her cheeks go very hot indeed then, and she whispered desperately,
"I probably will."
He laughed then, lowering his gaze and releasing her. He dragged his thumb over his bottom lip and noted softly,
"Your dress looks more than a little inconvenient."
She huffed a breath, feeling very anxious all of a sudden. Inconvenient - to take off, he meant. She sucked her lip and assured him,
"It just buttons down the back and slips right off, Master."
His eyes shut, and he seemed to be imagining that. He seemed to be standing there picturing the idea of undoing her buttons, of pulling off her gown, and she reached until she could press her hand flat against his chest. She felt the way his breath came in shallow pants, and when he bent down as if to kiss her, she reminded him,
"Not yet, Master, you said."
"Bella," he growled, brushing his mouth onto hers. She let him kiss her a little, but then she turned her face away a bit, and he choked out a frustrated, amused sort of sound. "My, what a dedicated little servant you are. So committed to my curiosity."
Bellatrix scratched her fingernails over the brocade on his chest, and then she asked quietly,
"What time is dinner, My Lord?"
"Whenever you're hungry," he told her, taking a step back. She met his eyes and smirked.
"I am very hungry."
He let out a long breath at that, and he nodded. "So am I. Let's go eat."
Bellatrix cut off a bite of lamb, which was slathered in mint sauce, and brought it to her lips. She chewed and washed the bite down with a gulp of chilled water, and she declared,
"Well, My Lord, this is the finest meal I've had in some time."
"Does your husband not serve you lamb?" Voldemort teased, spearing a bite of greens and chewing them. Bellatrix smiled a bite and shook her head.
"We eat it, from time to time, but it seems Dobby cooks it better. In any case, the company is without competition."
"I want you to kill again for me, very soon," Voldemort said suddenly. Bellatrix froze and stared across the dining room table at him. She nodded.
"When, My Lord?"
He licked his lips, reaching for his glass of wine. He sipped, set it down, and said,
"Ishmael Prewett. Soon."
"The Prewetts," Bellatrix spat, setting down her fork and knife. "Blood Traitors, the lot of them. Ishmael was in my year at Hogwarts; he was a Hufflepuff. His cousins Molly, Gideon, and Fabian were Gryffindors, they -"
"Are all known to be friendly in some capacity with Albus Dumbledore," affirmed Voldemort. "Ishmael is the weak link. He's married a Squib, and they live in a secluded home outside Carlisle in Cumbria."
"You want us to go there and take them out," Bellatrix nodded. "Will this be another ambush, My Lord?"
"Bella, I'm sending you alone," he said. "You're more than capable of handling one Blood Traitor and a Squib."
She smiled, swelling with happiness at her assignment. She nodded and contentedly cut herself another bite of meat. She swallowed it and shrugged,
"This will set tongues to wagging at the Ministry again. I can read the Daily Prophet's headline now - ISHMAEL PREWETT AND INNOCENT WIFE BRUTALLY MURDERED INSIDE -"
She had to stop then, for she was giggling like mad, and when she looked across the table, Voldemort was giving her a strange look. He was smiling just a bit, and his eyes were shining, but she could read something else. Craving, longing. Desire. It made him want her, seeing her bloodlust in full force like this. He liked when she became just a little unhinged. Bellatrix dragged her tongue along her lip and said softly,
"I'll kill Ishmael quickly, and I'll take my time with the Squib. Give her a good solid fifteen minutes on the Cruciatus before I dispose of her like the vermin she is."
"Bellatrix." Voldemort's eyes shut, and his fingers tightly gripped the edge of the dining room table.
"Or perhaps I'll do it the other way round. Immobilise Ishmael and make him watch me torture his wife, then kill her, then kill him. I dunno; I'll come up with something. It'll be such fun. Oh, My Lord, it will be so much fun."
"Bellatrix." He snarled her name, the syllables rippling through the air like the menacing sound of a predator, and when she found his gaze again, his eyes flashed so wildly that she swore they glowed red for a moment.
"Get over here," he whispered, so quietly that she could hardly hear him. She blinked and rose from her chair, and when she walked around the outside of the dining room table, she felt her skin tingle, felt magic crackling in the air. Was it hers or his, she wondered?
She reached the place where he sat, and he pushed his chair back. He slowly stood, and then he stared down at her.
"You are a savage, barbaric killer," he purred, reaching to pet her cheek with his knuckle, "and you are my soldier. You fight for me."
"I kill for you, My Lord and Master," Bellatrix replied, putting her hand to his chest like she'd done in the parlour. Her other hand followed, and some wild instinct told her to work at the silver hook-and-eye clasps running down the front of Voldemort's black brocade robe. She had no permission to undress him, but she began unhooking, and he just groaned a little.
No nonsense yet, she thought, but his own hands wrapped around the back of her body and went between her shoulders. His fingers were deft and able as he started working on the small, round black buttons that bound her gown shut. Soon enough, they were each set to the task of undoing the other's clothing, with his fingers dancing down her back and her fingers fumbling down his front. Eventually, she pushed at his heavy robe, and he shucked it, letting it fall to the floor of the dining room and leaving him in a thin black tunic tucked into black breeches and flat boots. Bellatrix yanked at his waist until the linen tunic came out of his breeches, and he helped her with the tie on the breeches. He shoved them down with his underwear and kicked them away with his boots, and then suddenly Lord Voldemort was naked in front of Bellatrix Lestrange.
He was leaner, perhaps, than she'd anticipated him being. His voluminous clothing always made him seem bulkier. But his arms and chest were thin, and his stomach was completely flat. He had a dusting of greying hair on his chest, and his rather impressive cock stood fully at attention. Bellatrix flicked her eyes away from it, but he murmured,
"You can look."
"Master," she whispered, unsure of what to do or say. She'd started this; she'd been the one to begin taking his clothes off. Now she was too shy to even touch him. Lucky for her, he was not shy. He reached for her and pulled at her dress, sliding the black silk and velvet forward and up. She raised her arms and wriggled a little until the dress came off. She wasn't lying; it really did slip off easily, leaving her standing in a black lace bra and a pair of black cotton knickers. Voldemort eyed her, surveying her like she was a choice cut of meat for sale, and then he locked his eyes onto hers and declared,
"Perfectly lovely."
She could have died right then, she thought, and she would have been the happiest she'd ever been. She wouldn't have ever needed anything again, for she'd been stripped before Lord Voldemort and he'd decided that she was perfectly lovely. She whimpered a little and took off her bra and knickers for him, tossing them away with her dress. Then, suddenly, everything was happening very quickly.
He was shoving her roughly toward the paneled wall, and Bellatrix was gasping for air as one of his hands grasped at a breast. He was clutching her backside in his other hand; he was crushing her mouth with a kiss. She slammed up against the wood and moaned up onto him, arching her back until his cock rubbed her stomach. She ground on him a little, and then he broke free and hissed into her ear,
"I find I am no longer curious about anticipation, Bellatrix."
"No?" she squealed, and he huffed,
"Now I want to know all about satisfaction."
She wanted to have some witty comeback about how surely he'd known a great deal of satisfaction already in his life, but she couldn't breathe enough to talk. His mouth latched onto the flesh beneath her ear and suckled hard, and Bellatrix sank her fingernails helplessly into the skin between his shoulder blades. Realising at once that she'd hurt him, she let up her pressure, but he did not complain. Instead, he hoisted her up against the wall, shoving her roughly onto the wood and grunting onto her neck,
"Wrap your legs round me. Now."
She obeyed, shocked by his strength. She wrapped her arms and legs snugly around him as he slammed her against the wall again and demanded,
"Are you protected?"
"Erm… oh. Yes. Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix flushed hotter than ever, remembering the day a few months ago that she'd taken a reversible but long-lasting contraceptive potion. Wartime was no time for motherhood.
Suddenly she felt him at her entrance, felt his tip lined up with her walls, and when he drove in, she cried out into the crook of his shoulder. He wrenched her back onto the wall, shoving at her shoulders to pin her against the wood. She cinched her arms and legs more securely around him, and he pumped his hips as he stared right at her and declared breathlessly,
"I am an old man, but this is not going to last long."
"Mmph." She drove her head back against the wood and was shocked when he closed the gap between them, kissing at her neck again. He adjusted the angle he was using to drill her against the wall, and suddenly it felt like too much. The grinding, the nakedness of the two of them, the warmth of him, the feel of him filling her… Bellatrix felt his teeth nibble just a bit too hard at a spot on her neck, and she cried out loudly. She squeezed her arms and tightened her legs, and she whispered desperately,
"I'm going to come."
"Mmm-hmm." He would leave marks, she thought frantically. Rodolphus would see marks on her neck. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to care very much about that right now. She was too busy experiencing a trembling climax, one that rushed through her and set her veins blazing. She was still panting and moaning, limp and weak from her high, when Voldemort started barreling so roughly that it hurt. He finally pounded her one time and did not keep going, slamming his body against hers and keeping it there. He let his cheek rest on hers and just breathed for a moment, and then Bellatrix felt his cock throbbing and twitching inside of her.
"Disentangling this arrangement ought to be… fun," he mumbled at last, and she choked out a little laugh. He was right, though; it was more than a little awkward for him to pull out of her and bring a stream of his come with him. It was just a bit embarrassing for Bellatrix to have it streaming down the insides of her thighs as she wobbled on sore legs toward her pile of clothes. She used her own wand to surreptitiously clean herself up, and as she and Voldemort dressed in silence, she felt like an enormous weight had settled over the dining room.
Bellatrix pulled her wand in a straight line up her back and muttered a Fastening Charm, and she watched Voldemort furrow his brows. She wondered what was wrong. Had she made him cross?
"Quite the contrary." Lord Voldemort did up the last clasp on his black brocade robe.
"I thought you said that Legilimency wasn't mind reading, My Lord," Bellatrix puffed. Voldemort raised his eyebrows at her and said,
"I told you that it was far more complicated than straightforward mind-reading, which it is."
Bellatrix shut her eyes for a moment and wrenched away everything in her mind. Every feeling, every sensation, every emotion within her head was snuffed out like the flame of a candle. Black night washed over her mind. She opened her eyes, and when she met Lord Voldemort's eyes again, he walked very slowly toward her and nodded slowly.
"Magnificent," he said softly. Bellatrix felt her eyes well heavily, and she blinked very quickly, trying not to cry. She thought back to what he'd said to her, not so very long ago.
You are a beautifully impressive murderess. But you could be… magnificent.
"I just want to please you, Master," Bellatrix whispered. "It's all I want."
"I know," he affirmed. He sighed and licked his lips as he said, "I want you to come back here tomorrow morning. For more studies."
"More Occlumency, Master?" Bellatrix questioned, but Voldemort shook his head and said,
"More theory. Come ready to take notes; I've a lecture ready for you." He quirked up half his mouth, and Bellatrix smiled. He started fussing with her hair then, and she realised he was pushing at fallen curls and tendrils. He sank his teeth into his lip and muttered, "I destroyed your hairstyle."
She reached up and pulled at pins, yanking them out of the braids. Soon enough, she could shake out her hair, and her curls tumbled down over her shoulders. Voldemort tipped his head and said sarcastically,
"Hmm. Yes. Now, of course, your husband won't suspect a thing."
"I don't think he much minds, My Lord," Bellatrix said, dragging her fingers through her hair. Voldemort breathed in slowly and said under his breath,
"Cinnamon and clove, you carry about you."
She wanted to tell him that he smelled like the wintry sea. Somehow, it didn't feel right. She finally just brushed her fingers over her chest, and she leaned forward and touched her forehead to his brocade robe. Her thumb dusted over one of his silver clasps, and she realised just how cloying and obnoxious she was being. He did not complain, but, still, she knew she was being ridiculous. She sucked in air and gulped, stepping back.
"I'm sorry, Master," she said, humiliated.
"I shall see you tomorrow, then," he said tightly. "I, erm… I… I'll be teaching you to Curse objects."
Bellatrix flashed him a smile and curtsied. She bowed her head and murmured, "Until tomorrow, then, My Lord."
"Do you need Dobby to show you out?" Voldemort sniffed, but Bellatrix shook her head and said,
"N-No, My Lord. I'll be here tomorrow." She started to walk by him, but he caught her round one of her velvet wrist cuffs until she whirled around. She gasped as he pulled her nearby the small of her back, and he bent down, pressing his lips to hers.
"Are you eager to learn from me, Bella?" he hummed onto her mouth. She nodded, and he squeezed her wrist a little. She whispered,
"I want to learn from you."
"We shall see," he said, and he kissed her carefully again. He released her, and she stumbled away, feeling dizzy. She nodded, shutting her eyes for a brief moment and then opening them again with a blank mind. She rushed out of the dining room as quickly as she could, desperate for some reason to escape the way her lord and master had completely overwhelmed her.
A/N: Whew! This chapter ran away from me a little! Please do review.