Bellatrix huffed as she stared at herself in the mirror. She felt sloppy in this outfit - a knee-length pleated black skirt and a black jumper. Moreover, the weather was far too hot for the jumper. She ripped off the clothes and Banished them to her wardrobe, Summoning a black cotton dress. It had short sleeves and eyelets sewn in all around it; it was summery despite being black. It clung to Bellatrix's little waist and then fell about her with a skirt that swished when she moved. She smirked and nodded to herself, slipping on simple black satin flats.

She hadn't had work today, so she'd spent the day fretting over clothes and makeup and perfume and her hair. She wanted to look good for him, for Lord Voldemort. She cared what he thought of her, because she wanted him.

She wanted him.

When she Disapparated from the Black family house and came to outside 21 Bassett Gardens, Isleworth, Bellatrix was taken back to the day she'd disguised herself for him. She stood staring at the simple house, with its brick accents, and she thought it was much too plain a home for the likes of Lord Voldemort. He needed a palace, she thought, or at least a manor home like one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. She took down the wards around the house designed to protect it from enemies and Muggles. She walked through the rickety gate and up to the front door, and she raised her fist tentatively. Should she knock? Dare she knock?

The door swung open, and Lord Voldemort stood before her in an elegant but unadorned emerald green robe. He smiled a little at her and admitted,

"I felt the pulse of your mind out here."

"My Lord. How very gifted you are," Bellatrix said, feeling breathless all of a sudden. Voldemort's eyes crinkled as his grin broadened.

"Come inside and let us discuss what I have in mind for wizarding Britain."

She nervously followed him into his house, into the ugly floral sitting room. She looked around at the rose-patterned wallpaper and the hideous velvet furniture stuffed inside. She pinched her lips, and then Lord Voldemort said softly,

"It wasn't much when the Muggles lived here, and it still isn't much, but, for now, at least, it's home."

"You deserve so much better," Bellatrix whispered, but she knew he heard her. He scoffed as he shut the door, and when she turned towards him, he was scratching his hair and pursing his lips.

"I'll have better soon enough. I just got a five thousand Galleon donation to my cause from Rickard Avery."

"He seems like a good friend," Bellatrix noted. "Have you got many good friends?"

"I did, once upon a time," Voldemort said. "Or, at least, I had followers. In school. I don't know if one would consider my relationship with them true friendship. Just the same, I'd like to have them back. That's why I'm going to attack the Muggles."

"And how will you do that, now that your idea for poison has been mucked up?" Bellatrix asked. Voldemort turned to her in the corridor, and she realised just how near they were standing. He smelled so good, like the ocean and leather. He stared down at her and whispered,

"I'm going to crash a bus."

"A bus," Bellatrix repeated, shaking her head. "Like the Knight Bus?"

"Sort of, except it's red and full of Muggles," Voldemort smirked. "I'll tip it over and blow it up."

Bellatrix grinned up at him, and he murmured,

"You like the sound of that."

"I can't help it," Bellatrix said. "I'm wicked, perhaps. We had two Muggles come into St Mungo's because they had been Hexed, and it took everything I had not to… you know…"

"Kill the patients?" Voldemort cocked an eyebrow. He laughed quietly. "My, but you are wicked. And I find I quite like it. Will you come have dinner? It's nothing much, be warned."

Bellatrix followed him into the kitchen and dining area to see that he'd set the table with formal linens and had lit candles on silver sticks in the centre of the table. Bellatrix smiled a little as Voldemort pulled out her chair, and she sat. He pulled the dome off her plate and revealed roasted quail, haricots verts, and mashed potato. Bellatrix nibbled her lip as Voldemort sat opposite her and Banished the domes to the kitchen. He raised his glass of white wine, and Bellatrix did the same. She stared right at him as he said softly,

"To a Britain with witches and wizards in their rightful place."

"To a wizarding Britain under Lord Voldemort," Bellatrix countered, and he smirked. He sipped his wine and set down his glass, and then he and Bellatrix both cut into their meat.

"When I was sleeping," Voldemort said eventually, "you told me that your sister Andromeda is dating a Mudblood. What is he called?"

"Ted Tonks, My Lord," Bellatrix answered at once. "He's a favourite of Albus Dumbledore. He and my sister are quite serious. Andy says they mean to marry after school."

"How hideous," Voldemort said. "Wouldn't it be nice if Ted were to… Vanish?"

Bellatrix laughed under her breath and shook her head. "Believe me, My Lord, I'd get rid of him myself, but Andy would just find a new Mudblood."

"But what if we got rid of this one first?"

Bellatrix raised her eyes to Voldemort and realised he was serious. She nodded and asked, "How? When?"

"Do you know where he lives?" Voldemort asked.

"No, but Andy does," Bellatrix said. "If only there were a way to get her to tell me…"

"I could get her to tell me," Voldemort said. His brows went up, and he set down his knife and fork before sipping more wine. "If I came to visit the Black family home, somewhat unannounced, I could easily pull the boy's address out of Andromeda's head with Legilimency. She'd never know."

"And then?" Bellatrix asked, her voice trembling a little with anticipation.

"And then," Voldemort said, "you could go on your first mission."

"Mission," Bellatrix repeated in disbelief. "Am I to be a soldier for you?"

He just stared at her, and she touched her fingers to her lips. "You really want me to… to serve you."

"You have already shown strength of mind, and obedience, and I would like for you to kill Ted Tonks for me," Voldemort said flatly. Bellatrix grinned behind her fingers and laughed.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, My Lord."

"So gleeful about murder," he said, and he suddenly seemed a little overcome. He rubbed his hands together and mumbled, "So excited to do my bidding."

Bellatrix rose slowly from her chair and walked around the table to where Voldemort sat. He gazed at her as though he were very hungry, and then he pulled himself up to stand. He put his hands on Bellatrix's shoulders and pushed her a little. She gasped, and then he pushed her again. She shut her eyes as he guided her rather roughly towards the wall, and once her back hit his wallpaper, she tipped her head and said quietly,

"I want you… to…"

"You want what?" Voldemort hissed. He cupped her jaw in his hand and bent down, putting his lips beside Bellatrix's ear. His breath was warm and steady against her skin as she heard him ask again, "What do you want from me, little girl?"

"I want you… to be my master," Bellatrix whined. His breath hitched then, and he whispered against her ear,

"Say that again."

"I want you to be my master," Bellatrix said more confidently. "I want to obey you."

"Mmph." Voldemort moved his mouth from her ear and crushed it against Bellatrix's lips. She gasped again, her mouth opening. His tongue slid in at once, and she tasted wine and meat on him. She drank him in as he pulled at her bottom lip, nibbling a little and dragging his tongue across the roof of her mouth. Bellatrix moaned, sliding her arms up around his shoulders. She held onto him and then felt the insistent press of his manhood on her stomach. He was aroused, she thought. All of this talk of him being her master had aroused him. He ground his cock against Bellatrix's belly and murmured against her lips,

"I knew. I knew before I even woke up. You were taking care of me, and I could tell you were the one to do my will. I could tell you would become my servant. I knew it."

Master. Servant. It all felt strange to Bellatrix, and yet very right, somehow. She nodded and said breathlessly,

"You'll come to my parents' house and get Ted Tonks' address. And then, in the middle of the night, I will murder him. For you."

"Bella…"

She gasped at the sound of her shortened name from him. He kissed her again, more aggressively than ever, and she found herself thinking back to dancing with him, to putting an intravenous line in his arm, to listening to his accelerating heartbeat with her stethoscope. She thought of talking to him whilst he was unconscious, not knowing that he could hear. She thought of writing him letters, of their promised one dance that had turned into three.

And then she kissed him for all she was worth.

He was older, she knew. She was, what, twenty-five years younger than him? She couldn't care. She couldn't care that he lived in an ugly Muggles' house. She couldn't care that he was probably in her head right now with Legilimency.

"Bella," he huffed again, pulling away at last. "We're meant to be eating dinner."

"Master." Bellatrix put her fingers to his chest, and his dark eyes flashed wildly.

"Again."

"Master," she hummed, and his hands were everywhere then. He slid the fingers of one hand up the outside of her thigh, he brushed his knuckles against her ribcage. He kissed her forehead and let out a low noise against her skin. She muttered as she stared at his throat,

"I'm going to kill Ted Tonks for you."

"You took care of me," he said, kissing her forehead again. "Now, I promise, if you obey me, I will take good care of you, too."

She wondered what he meant by that, but before she could think too hard on it, his fingers had drifted to the inside of her thigh. She gasped and tossed her head back, staring up at him and saying fearfully,

"I'm a virgin."

There was silence for a moment.

"Well," Voldemort said, looking rather abashed, "I am a patient man. I have no need to rush you. I confess I found myself rather… bothered… by the way you were talking. I'm sorry I got so heated."

"There's nothing to apologise for, Master," Bellatrix said, and his gaze flared once more at the title. His fingers worked their way back out to the exterior of Bellatrix's thigh and then released her.

"Our food has gone cold, I'm sure," he whispered, his breath trembling just a little.

"I don't care," Bellatrix replied. Voldemort held her cheeks in his hands and bent to plant a soft kiss on her lips. He murmured almost gently,

"You're going to kill the Mudblood for me, and I'm going to destroy a bus."

"And then it won't just be Rickard Avery donating, and it won't just be me obeying," Bellatrix said. Voldemort sucked in breath hard at that and said a bit desperately,

"It must all be mine."

"Yes," Bellatrix whispered. She shut her eyes and thought of him silent and motionless in his hospital bed. She thought of him waking and telling her that his poison had been intended for the Muggle Underground. She thought of coming here and planting Flobberworms so he wouldn't get in trouble with the Ministry. She thought of the letters, of the dancing…

Obedient, he'd called her, almost reverently. She wanted to be obedient. She knew he was right, that he was the only one who could truly lead wizarding Britain.

"It must all be yours," she said softly.

"Beginning with you," he said, and then he pulled back and dragged Bellatrix toward the dining table. She sat, feeling breathless as he warmed their food with a few waves of his wand. He tucked the menacing-looking pale wand away and said quietly, "Let's finish eating."

They did, speaking in brief conversations about Ted Tonks and the best way to sneak into his house at night. They talked about how Voldemort was going to crash and light afire a Muggle bus. He gave her names - her father, Avery, Mulciber, Rowle, Crabbe, Goyle - of his old school friends who would come clamoring back once Voldemort had proven himself again. She asked him what he'd learnt on the Continent, and he said that he'd explain all of that some other time.

"Perhaps I'll teach you some of it," he said, once their plates were empty. He Scoured the plates and Banished them to the kitchen, and Bellatrix looked at him in the light of the candles. The sun was setting now, and his face was aglow. The angles and cuts in his face seemed harsher and sharper and deeper than ever, but he was so handsome, she thought. His beard was tightly clipped and his dark hair was just woven through with a few silver threads. She wanted him. Oh, she wanted him.

"What will you teach me, My Lord?" she asked him, and he curled up his lips a little as he said,

"Much as I'd hate for you to be able to wield the power against me, I think it would be remarkably useful for you to become an Occlumens," Voldemort said. "You know so much about me already. Who knows what snooping Legilimens would feast upon that information?"

"Dumbledore, you mean." Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, filled with loathing for the man. Voldemort glanced at a fingernail and said,

"Yes, like Dumbledore. Anyway. Perhaps you could come here for Occlumency lessons once you and I have carried out our attacks."

"I would like that," Bellatrix said. Voldemort looked at her then and said,

"I'll be at your house tomorrow during breakfast. It's your parents' twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and I should like to congratulate them in person. And, of course, to get Ted Tonks' address from your sister's mind. Meet me here tomorrow afternoon to get the information. I want him dead tomorrow night."

Bellatrix nodded eagerly. "Yes, Master."

"Obedient," he breathed. "She is so beautifully obedient."

I want you to be my master, she'd told him earlier, and she realised now that she meant it. He served them each a scoop of vanilla ice cream for dessert, and then Bellatrix rose and said,

"I've overstayed my welcome."

"On the contrary," Voldemort said, pushing himself from his chair, "but I won't keep you any longer. We'll meet again tomorrow."

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix made her way towards the door, clutching her handbag and feeling her heart and breath race. She blinked a few times and licked her lips as she stood by the door. "Goodnight, then. Thank you for dinner."

"Bella," Voldemort said, reaching down. He snared his fingers into her wild curls - the curls she'd left down for him - and he leaned until his lips met hers. His beard scratched at her skin and made her tingle from the inside out. She hummed against his mouth and then whispered,

"Goodbye, Master."

He stood up slowly and gave her a look of obvious want. But he nodded and put his hand between her shoulder blades, holding it there for a moment before stepping back. He flashed her a little smile and said,

"Tomorrow morning. Expect me during breakfast."

She grinned, and she whirled hard to her right, Disapparating with a crack from 21 Bassett Gardens.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in updating. If you get a moment to spare for a comment, I'd really appreciate it.