"Bella?"

She whirled at the doorway to her bedroom and saw Rodolphus staring at her with wide eyes. He noticed, it seemed, the way her hair was down and loose where it had been neatly tied up when she'd left home. He scanned his eyes down her rumpled gown and back up over her face. His gaze settled on her neck, where she knew Voldemort had marked her up with his aggressive kisses. Rodolphus just nodded and pinched his lips.

"Off to bed, then?"

"Erm… yes. I've got… training. In the morning." Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot. Rodolphus appeared ashamed of himself but nodded. His eyes went wet and rimmed red, but he insisted quietly,

"I am not a jealous man, Bellatrix, and I know my place. He is our master."

"Yes. Well. Good. All right. Goodnight, Dolph." Bellatrix quickly let herself into her bedroom and shut the door. She leaned back against the wood and squeezed her eyes shut, holding her breath as she relived the sensations Voldemort had imparted on her body at Malfoy Manor. She could still feel his hands on her flesh, could feel his mouth on the delicate skin beneath her ear. She could still sense the fullness of him sheathed within her with her legs wrapped round his narrow waist, and she shuddered at the overwhelming memory of it all.

Then she blasted it all into oblivion, hexing and cursing the emotions and the memories until there was nothing left. She emptied her mind until all there was was a sort of dull ringing in her ears and a hollow feeling in her brain. She stood there for a very long while in a sort of trance, and when she opened her eyes, she realised she'd lost a good bit of time. The house was deathly still and quiet, and she knew Rodolphus had gone to bed and fallen asleep in his own chambers by now. She stepped forward and stripped off her gown and undergarments and made her way into her bathroom, standing naked before her sink and staring at her reflection. She aimed her crooked wand at herself and cast charms to cleanse her body and hair, then to scrub her mouth and teeth, and she opened her cupboard of cosmetics. She slathered on a bit of night cream and then screwed the lid back onto the jar as she sniffed a little, memories eking their way back into her consciousness.

He had smelled so good. She had wanted him so very badly throughout dinner, and he'd been unable to contain his own desire once he'd told her of her assignment killing Ishmael Prewett. Once they'd begun speaking of Bellatrix's insatiable bloodlust and her wild determination with torture and killing, Voldemort's dark eyes had flashed with unmitigated craving and his knuckles had gone visibly white gripping the table. Bellatrix shivered at the thought of him actually longing for her like that, and she licked her bottom lip as her skin prickled again and a flush of damp heat settled between her legs.

"Master," she whispered, putting the jar of night cream back in her cupboard. She retreated to her bedroom and pulled a simple white nightgown out of her wardrobe and over her head with a fresh pair of knickers, settling into her bed with her leather notebook on Occlumency in hand. By the silvery blue moonlight that streamed through her window, she read her lord's spindly script instructing her on how to best select a replacement memory to conceal what a Legilimens was seeking in her mind. She'd read this bit no fewer than ten times now, but it brought her a measure of comfort to drag her fingertip over his handwriting and feel the places where the nib of his quill had pressed into the paper with more pressure, to know that his hands had handled this book, that he'd written this just for her. She read until her eyelids felt heavy and the cloak of sleep settled over her, and when she blinked her eyes open again, she heard the thrash of rain.

It was the first grey hints of a dreary dawn outside when Bellatrix awoke. She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of her bedroom and read a quarter past six. She sighed and determined that it would be best to ready herself now, and she glanced beside herself to see that she'd fallen asleep with her leather handwritten Occlumency book open in her hand. She shut it carefully and hauled herself out of her bed, reaching for her wand and flicking it to make up the blankets neatly. She dressed herself in a black velvet dress that reached just below her knees, a gothic confection with a dropped waist and a corseted bodice. She pulled on lace-up black boots with a little heel, and she arranged her wild curls into a simple braid that she draped loosely over one shoulder and bound with black velvet ribbon. She went into her bathroom and daubed powder and blusher on, then painted her lips with deep plum lipstick and lined her eyes darkly. She sighed, figuring she looked perfectly acceptable for a lecture on Cursing objects, and she gripped her wand in her hand and strode out of her rooms.

She went downstairs to the dining room and had Bizzy bring her some porridge and an apple and some tea, and she ate quietly as she stared out the window into the garden and watched the rainstorm batter the stately tree that guarded their property. The boughs swayed precipitously in the wind, leaves whipping about as they were lashed by a vicious flaggellation of rain. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Bellatrix sighed as she sipped her tea. She heard footsteps on the stairs behind her, and she said gently,

"Morning, Dolph."

"Lovely weather," he said sarcastically, and then, "Bacon with eggs and toast and some pumpkin juice for me, Bizzy."

"Yes, Master Rodolphus," croaked the House-Elf, and Rodolphus sat opposite Bellatrix at the table. He was clad in a simple dark blue robe, his hair parted neatly, and he set down his wand on the table as he complimented Bellatrix,

"You look nice."

"Thank you," she said somewhat awkwardly. He knew she was going to see Voldemort this morning. He'd seen her marked up with mussed hair the night before. He was no fool at all; he knew exactly what was going on. She cleared her throat and spooned some sweetened porridge into her mouth and then took a bite of apple. Rodolphus rolled his wand back and forth on the wooden table as he waited for his breakfast in silence, and the thunderstorm outside intensified. Finally Bizzy arrived with a tray of food for Rodolphus, who began to eat in earnest as Bellatrix signaled to the Elf that she had finished her own food. She rose from her chair and picked up her wand, which she fingered anxiously as she told Rodolphus,

"I'll be back later. He's giving me a lecture this morning as part of my training."

"Do whatever you need to do," Rodolphus said gently, setting down his knife and fork and sipping from his pumpkin juice. He stared at his wife for a long moment and nodded, setting down his glass. "There's no confusion, Bellatrix. Nor envy, nor anger, nor unwise possession. He is our master."

"Right. Well. See you, then," Bellatrix said, and without another word, she walked out of the dining room and went into the foyer of their house. She pulled her waterproofed rain cloak out of the cloak cupboard beneath the staircase and dragged it around her shoulders, hooking together its silver clasp and pulling its large hood up around her braided hair. She gripped her wand tightly and shut her eyes, thinking of Malfoy Manor and whirling hard to her right. She Disapparated with a little sound and vanished into the inky black void, whirling through nothingness for a moment until she came to and landed on her feet on spongy grass in rain-soaked Wiltshire. It wasn't as windy here as it had been at home, but the rain was falling in vertical sheets in great volumes, soaking the Malfoys' rose bushes and pooling on the gravel surrounding the benches in the garden. Bellatrrix trotted quickly up the stairs to the doorway and slammed the knocker a few times, and when the door creaked open, she was shivering. She said harshly to Dobby the House-Elf,

"Let me in, you wretched creature; it's pouring out here. He's expecting me."

"Welcome in, Madam Lestrange," said Dobby, stepping aside. "The Dark Lord said to come straight to his office, Madam."

"Yes, all right." Bellatrix pushed her way past Dobby and climbed the stairs in the Malfoys' foyer, padding down the plush runner in the main corridor until she reached the door of Voldemort's office. She pulled down the hood of her rain cloak and cleared her throat, raising her left fist to the door and knocking a few times. She waited, her heart accelerating and her stomach twisting with anxiety. Suddenly she realised something. He'd said to come prepared to take notes, for he was giving her a lecture. But she hadn't come prepared; she hadn't brought an empty notebook or even blank sheets of parchment and a quill. Her stomach sank like a stone in water, and she began to panic that he would be furious with her for not living up to the standards of his expectations. She should go home and get the necessary supplies, she thought, but before she could dash away, the door opened, and Voldemort stood before her in a dark shirt with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the buttons at his neck undone. Bellatrix stared at him, her lips parting, and he tipped his head.

"Good morning," he said pointedly. "You're drenched."

"It is pouring rain outside, Master," Bellatrix observed, feeling stupid. She gulped. "I, erm… I forgot to bring things."

"Things," he repeated, leaning on his doorjamb. "What things?"

"To take notes," she said anxiously, and he smirked.

"I've got supplies. It's not a problem."

"Oh. All right. I'm sorry. I was careless," Bellatrix let out a shaking breath. "I hope you aren't angry with me, Master."

"No." He just looked her up and down for a moment, and then he said softly, "Come inside."

She followed him into his office, and he surprised her by shutting the door behind her. She wondered why he did that; they had Malfoy Manor to themselves since the house's owners were in Scotland. Who were they hiding from? Dobby? The portraits in the corridor? Bellatrix chewed her lip and unhooked her rain cloak, stripping it off and hanging it on the rack at the corner of Voldemort's wood-paneled walls. She sat when he gestured to the chair opposite his, and she watched as he opened a drawer and pulled out a few sheets of parchment, a jar of ink, and a plain black quill. He slid the supplies over to Bellatrix, and she murmured her thanks as she opened the ink and dipped the quill into it. She arranged the parchment before her on the desk and took the quill in hand, staring at Voldemort and blinking as her eyes met his. He just gazed back at her for a long moment, folding his hands on his desk before he incanted softly,

"Legilimens."

She was dancing with Rodolphus at a Christmas party… she was laughing with Narcissa in Madam Primpernelle's as the girls tried on lipstick in a shade of ludicrously vivid pink that made them both look like fools… she was dutifully taking notes in Charms lessons as Professor Flitwick went on and on about defensive wards that Bellatrix had already studied about on her own… she was standing over Adonis Copper's body and listening to Voldemort cast a Killing Curse after he'd told her to go back to Malfoy Manor…

And then, very abruptly, there was nothing at all in Bellatrix's mind. There was velveteen darkness, a cloak of inky black cast over the memories that Voldemort had been pawing through. She raced, as quickly as she could manage, to purposefully replace what he was seeing with a vision of her own choosing instead of allowing him to rifle through her mind. She shoved forth a thought as forcefully as she possibly could.

Bellatrix was much younger, and her father, Cygnus Black III, was telling her about his old school friend, Tom Riddle, who had been on the Continent for years studying Dark Magic and had returned with renewed purpose and a vision for the future of wizarding Britain. He was going to be a great wizard, Cygnus was informing Bellatrix, and it would do her well to get to know Mr Riddle, who styled himself as Lord Voldemort now, and for the entire Black family to commit themselves to his cause.

Bellatrix felt a sort of suction then as Voldemort withdrew from her mind. She blinked, feeling dizzy and a little nauseated. She swayed where she sat, her quill shaking in her fingers. She set the quill down and whispered,

"Was that all right, My Lord?"

"That was perfect, Bella," he said seriously. She fought then to meet his eyes, and when she did, his dark gaze was glittering. He nodded and tented his fingertips near his lips. He said gravely, "You did perfectly. Now. Time to talk about Cursing objects."

Bellatrix cleared her throat roughly and picked her quill back up, prepared to take notes. Voldemort slowly stood and began to pace behind his chair, staring out his window with his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke. Bellatrix took careful notes on what he said, getting the jist of everything in outline format so that it was well-organised and complete and would be easy to review later. Her hand began to cramp from writing so much so quickly, but he was speaking rapidly, and Bellatrix struggled to keep up.

"The most important thing to know about Cursing an object," he said, "is that the finished product is almost always incredibly dangerous to handle, and thus it is critical to be incredibly cautious handling the object yourself whilst placing the Curse upon it, lest you unwittingly become a victim of consequences intended for someone else. I recall a time in Portugal when I was studying Curses that I witnessed a witch attempt to place a Damnatio Curse upon a pair of three hundred year old earrings, and she accidentally handled the jewels too far into the process of Cursing them. Not only did she absorb the Damnatio Curse herself, but she failed to communicate what she'd done to anyone else, and the husband who found her wasn't sure what he'd stumbled upon. He didn't recognise the symptoms of the Damnatio Curse, and so in the process of attempting to rescue his wife, he, too, touched the earrings and was Cursed. They both fell victim to a spell intended to take out an entirely different person. You must always exercise extreme caution from start to finish in the process of placing a Curse. Step by step, this means several things. First, it is ideal to notify at least one other person of your intentions, or at least of what the finished Cursed object will be. If this is not possible, it is preferable that someone know your whereabouts in case something goes wrong, so that a rescue attempt might be made. Second, materials like dragon-hide gloves, fresh air bubbles, and other protective enchantments similar to those used in the brewing of poisons are wise. They don't protect against all Curses by any stretch of the imagination, but they're better than nothing at all. Third, I advise that from the moment you even decide to place a Curse on an object, you cease all physical contact with the object itself. Avoid the temptation to touch. Use Levitation to move the object, package it carefully, et cetera. Have you got all of that?"

Bellatrix set down her quill and shook out her hand. She nodded frantically. "Yes, Master. I've got it."

"Questions?" He stopped his somewhat manic pacing, and Bellatrix shook her head.

"No, Master. That all makes sense."

"Good," he said, "Let us continue."

He waited for Bellatrix to pick up her quill and dip it anew into her ink, and he said,

"Some of the best Curses are Delayed Action Curses, meaning the victim will handle the Cursed object and then will begin to feel the effects of the Curse hours, days, weeks, or even months later. This makes it much more difficult to trace the origin of the effects, and in the case of Curses that mimic disease, it makes treating the sickness that much more complicated for Healers. Of course, most Curses aren't treatable, but Healers will always try. Ideally, you'll always use a Delayed Action Curse unless you require immediate results, because it's infinitely easier to get caught when using an Immediate Action Curse = it's quick and simple to identify the object that caused the problem, versus it being a detective game trying to figure out where things went wrong. It becomes so much simpler to essentially poison someone slowly and irreversibly from the inside out, or to rot their mind, or to cause their bones to slowly dissolve, or unleash all other forms of hell upon them that they can't reverse or heal, in a time released fashion that makes it almost impossible to pin you down as the perpetrator, when utilising a Delayed Action Curse. Some examples of these, of course, are the Debilitas Curse, which causes extreme weakness until the victim simply dies of exhaustion, and the Emesis Curse, in which the victim vomits to such excess that the dehydration can't be countered and they essentially die of thirst. These two come on no less than three weeks after contact with a Cursed object, but placing the initial Curse is quite simple. For instance, in the case of the Emesis Curse, all one need do is tap the object one hundred and eighty-seven times, each time incanting the phrase, "Maledictio Emesis." Time-consuming and dull, yes, but a simple application procedure and difficult to muck up unless one loses count of the taps. A simple tally made on parchment with a self-writing quill is an easy enough way to prevent such an error. Do you have all of this, Bellatrix?"

"Yes, My Lord," Bellatrix said, though she felt like her right hand was going to fall off, and she was just about out of space on the parchments he'd given her. He seemed to sense that she was fatigued from writing so much, and he sighed. He nodded and said,

"Good. That's enough for today. You've got thorough notes. I won't make you write any more."

"Oh. Thank you." Bellatrix set the quill down gratefully and shut the jar of ink. He took the quill and ink and put them back in the drawer in his desk, and then he said quietly, "Come here, will you?"

Bellatrix's stomach fluttered a little where she sat. She rose from her chair and walked around his desk on shaking legs. She licked her lips and felt anxiety ripple through her core. He'd taken her against the wall in this house just the night before. They'd been naked together; he'd seen her entire body. He'd pawed her breast; he'd touched her between her legs. He'd kissed her neck until she'd been marked up, and she'd caressed his cock. Now her breath shook between her lips as she approached him, and when she reached him, he surprised her by cupping her jaws in his palms and bending down, touching his lips very gently to hers and then saying against her mouth,

"I had a dream about you last night."

"Y-You did, My Lord?" Bellatrix breathed, snaring her arms up around his shoulders rather bravely. His fingers tightened on her jaws, and he kissed her softly again before he murmured,

"I had a dream that you were in my bed. It was quite pleasant, I must say."

"Mmph." Bellatrix pulled herself more tightly against him and boldly dared to kiss him on the mouth, and he snared his tongue between his lips and tangled it with hers in an elegant pavane for a long moment. He dragged his tongue along the roof of her mouth, making her shiver, then suckled her bottom lip between his teeth and released it with a little pop. He pulled back from her just enough to touch their foreheads together, their warm breath mingling between them as he bent down. He said very quietly,

"It all began, you understand, because I found myself curious. I am curious still, Bellatrix. I am a curious man; you spark all manner of inquisitiveness within me. You compel me to perform all sorts of experiments, you see."

"Experiments," Bellatrix whispered back, and he nodded, brushing his thumbs under her eyes. He kissed her again, quite firmly, and shut his eyes as he said,

"I should like to investigate the veracity of dreams. The authenticity of dreams, as it were; how true-to-life are my visions in slumber? How near to reality is it, what I saw in my sleep? Would you really arch your back and fist my sheets and cry out for me whilst I moved atop you, I wonder?"

"Oh," Bellatrix hummed. "I think I would, My Lord."

"Shall we find out?" hee proposed, and he continued stroking beneath her eyes with his thumbs. His fingers began to tremble on her jaws then, and his voice quavered just a little as he reminded her, "There's no one else in this manor. You could be as loud as you pleased. My rooms are upstairs. I'd like to take you upstairs now, Bella."

"Yes, My Lord," Bellatrix whispered, and his right hand slid from her face. He moved back a step as her arms dropped from his shoulders, and he caught her right hand in his. Then, silently and rather quickly, he pulled her toward the door of his office, nearly dragging her and compelling her to trot behind him as he made good on his word to take her to his bed.