Bellatrix wasn't sure what made her take the wine.
Of all the rules she'd ever broken, stealing alcohol had not been one of them - yet. But here she was, sitting alone in her bedroom, with an uncorked bottle of red Elf-Made wine that she'd taken from her parents' cupboard downstairs. Bellatrix stared at the bottle and remembered the way Lord Voldemort had scolded her about drinking wine in his office. If she was to be a grown-up witch, he'd said, she must drink wine.
So she knocked back the bottle and swigged. She gulped down drink after drink of it, bitter and cloying. She sputtered a little and spat a bit back into the bottle as she tried to stomach it all. Long minutes passed as Bellatrix finally found a rhythm - drink, swallow, rest. Drink, swallow, rest. She started to feel sick halfway through the bottle of wine, but she pressed on. After all, hadn't Lord Voldemort told her that if she was to be a grown witch, she must drink wine? Drink, swallow, rest. She chugged the wine down and told herself that she was doing what he'd told her to do. She was being a grown-up witch, drinking loads of wine. Soon enough she reached the bottom of the bottle, and she slowly rose to her feet and stumbled, dropping the bottle onto the ground.
This was bad, she thought. She wasn't just tipsy. She was properly drunk. Sloshed. Blitzed out of her mind. Her head was absolutely swimming as she opened her bedroom door and waddled down the corridor. She had places to be. People to see… well. One person. She held fast to the railing on the stairs as she slid down three steps at once in her drunken state. She managed the rest of the way and wondered if she'd woken anybody. She ambled on unsteady feet through the foyer and into the parlour, which was dark as everyone had gone to bed.
Bellatrix knew that what she was about to do was wrong. Sneaking out of her parents' house and into Malfoy Manor at midnight was wrong. But she was going to do it anyway, emboldened by the wine and spurred onward by the knowledge that he wanted her. He did want her. She knew it. He'd shown her that several times now. So Bellatrix went into the parlour and took a fistful of Floo Powder from the container to the right of the fireplace. She stepped into the fireplace and decided not to shout, in order to avoid waking anyone. Her head whirled and whirled as she said quietly but clearly,
"Malfoy Manor!"
Bellatrix was sucked back into the cool, licking emerald flames and pinched back into a black void for a moment. Then she was sent skittering out into the parlour at Malfoy Manor where their Floo entrance was located. It was pitch black and quiet as the dead. Bellatrix scampered to her feet, feeling unsteady, as though the room were spinning. She knew she'd essentially just broken into Malfoy Manor; it was not strictly legal to enter another person's home via Floo without their permission at any time, much less in the middle of the night. But here she was. She wasn't exactly about to go announcing her arrival in the corridor like she usually did when she came to visit Voldemort's office.
Instead, she crept out into the hall and looked round for evidence of anybody awake. All she saw were the few portraits on the wall that were always there, but the portraits seemed to be sleeping. Bellatrix tiptoed as quietly as she possibly could through the darkened corridor and up a flight of stairs. She knew, intellectually, where Lord Voldemort's quarters were. She had never been to them, but she knew where they were located, at least.
What would he say, her showing up a bottle of wine deep at midnight? What would he do? Would he scold her and send her away? Surely not. Would he kiss her in the doorway and drag her inside as they scrambled to get their clothes off? No, probably not that, either. What would he say? What would he do? Bellatrix walked down the corridor, nearing the door that she knew led to his quarters, and suddenly she heard a soft voice from her left.
"What are you doing here, girl?"
Bellatrix whirled, nearly falling to her feet in her drunkenness. It was a portrait, a beautiful young woman in a field full of sheep. The young woman shook her head and wondered gently,
"I have not seen you here before, yet here you come in the middle of the night. What are you doing here?"
"Visiting," Bellatrix whispered. "Please, leave me be. Don't tell the Malfoys."
"Oh, is it a secret?" the young woman grinned. "I love secrets. Go on, then. I won't tell."
"Thanks." Bellatrix turned, her head feeling heavy from the wine now. She carried on until she reached the dark brown wooden door that she was only relatively certain was Lord Voldemort's. She paused outside the door with her fist hovering over it. Dare she knock? Dare she not?
She was engaged to Rodolphus Lestrange. She would not marry him. She was the student of Lord Voldemort. She would kill for him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted everything from him, and she wanted to give him everything. She pinched her lips and knocked.
Then she waited for what felt like an eternity, and she knocked again.
Eventually, the door opened, and Lord Voldemort stood before her looking mussed and tired, wearing what appeared to be a black velvet dressing-gown over grey pyjamas. He stared down at Bellatrix as if she had five heads, and he finally whispered, the same as the portrait,
"What are you doing here?"
"I did just like you said to do, Master," Bellatrix replied, "and drank wine."
"You're drunk," he surmised, and Bellatrix nodded until her head felt like it would come off.
"Oh, yes. Very much so," she affirmed. "I drank the whole bottle. All by myself. Just like a grown witch would do."
"That's not…. That isn't… come inside." Voldemort opened the door a little, and Bellatrix stepped with him into a small sitting room. It had stout brown furniture and dark paneled walls. Voldemort wandlessly raised the level of light in the lanterns on the walls, and he mused to Bellatrix as he shut the door,
"You've broken into Malfoy Manor, coming here in the middle of the night by Floo without permission."
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm sure my parents would be devastated to know I'd stolen a bottle of wine and snuck away, too," Bellatrix said. She dragged her fingers over the wooden back of the divan, and suddenly her fingers hit another hand. She looked up to see Voldemort before her, shaking his head.
"You're slurring your words," he informed her, and Bellatrix giggled softly.
"Am I?"
"How much wine did you say you'd had?" He dragged his fingers over Bellatrix's on the divan, making her shiver, and she whispered,
"A whole bottle."
"What did you come here for?" he demanded. "Sex? You think I'd take that from you when you're drunk like this?"
"No, Master." Bellatrix lowered her eyes, but a hand tipped her chin up, and suddenly there were lips on hers. She gasped, and then he murmured onto her mouth,
"You think I'd strip off your clothes and mine when you'd had a whole bottle of wine to cloud your mind?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "No. Probably not."
"Don't think I don't want it." Voldemort stepped closer to Bellatrix and aimed his hand at the Wizarding Wireless. A droning, instrumental piece was playing, and he started to pull Bellatrix into a dancing stance, dragging her away from the divan. She let him arrange their bodies, let him put their hands together as she held his shoulder and he touched her back. They started to sway to the sound of the clarinet and the violin and piano, easy and slow, and Voldemort murmured down to her,
"It feels different now. Dancing with you."
"Does it?" Bellatrix shut her eyes and shook her head. "I'm not marrying Rodolphus."
"Why don't you worry about that when you need to worry about it?" Voldemort suggested, "and right now you can concern yourself with dancing."
"Yes, Master." Bellatrix continued swaying, but she was too drunk to do it elegantly. On instinct, she leaned forward and tucked her head against Voldemort's chest. He brought their hands closer to their bodies and laced his arm more tightly round her back. She felt him kiss the top of his head, and she heard him muse,
"No, you're no child anymore. Tomorrow we'll learn about vampires. I want to teach you about Baktu, the Romanian vampire I encountered in my travels. He consumed up to ten Muggles a day at times in his search for new uses for human blood."
"That sounds ghastly," Bellatrix said with a smile against his chest. "I'm looking forward to it."
"Wicked little thing that you are," Voldemort huffed. "You like everything I like."
"Does that please you?" Bellatrix raised her eyes to him, feeling a bit queasy. He was blurry, and she knew her words were a mess as she said, "I want to make you happy."
"Bella." Voldemort licked his bottom and shrugged. "You've always made me… you have always… you are different from the others. In many important ways."
The song ended and someone started talking, but Voldemort held Bellatrix in the dancing stance and stared down at her. He finally whispered,
"No one, not in all my years of living, has pleased me the way you please me, Bellatrix Black."
Her eyes welled then. She blinked quickly, unsure of whether she'd been brought to the verge of crying by the wine or by his words or both. She gazed up at him, and he continued,
"You make me happy. You do."
"Tell me how to make you happy right now," Bellatrix begged him, and his throat bobbed as he glanced over his shoulder. To his bedroom, she realised. Did he want her in his bedroom? But he turned back to Bellatrix and released his hold of her, taking her face in both his hands and touching his forehead to hers.
"You should not have come," he whispered. "If Abraxas finds you, you'll get us both in grand trouble. I'm going to take you by Side-Along to your bedroom at your parents' house, and then I'm immediately going to leave. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master." Bellatrix felt her stomach sink. She watched as Voldemort wandlessly shut off the Wireless, and then he took hold of Bellatrix's hand and Disapparated. Bellatrix felt so sick when she came to in her bedroom that she started to gag, and was on the verge of vomiting when Voldemort murmured,
"Nonemesis."
"Thank you." Bellatrix felt the anti-sickness charm take hold, washing over her like a balm. She looked at her bed, and then at Voldemort, whose breath was coming quick and shallow through his flared nostrils. He shook his head and shut his eyes, and he mumbled,
"I need to go. Now."
"Please. It can be quick and quiet," Bellatrix beseeched him, but he gave her a warning look and whispered,
"If you think I am going to take your virginity in your parents' house whilst everyone's asleep, you have lost your mind."
Bellatrix chomped her lip and nodded. "Night, then. Master."
"Goodnight." He stepped closer to her and cupped her jaw in his hand, bending down to kiss her. He deepened the kiss, letting his tongue snake between her lips and drag over the roof of her mouth. Bellatrix moaned softly, and he pushed his fingers up into her hair. He kissed her again, harder this time, and he backed her toward the wall. Bellatrix sucked in a breath when she hit the wall, and as he pressed himself against her, she reached into his dressing gown to try and fondle his cock through his pyjamas, But he pulled her hand away and shook his head, dragging his tongue over her lip and whispering,
"I need to go."
"All right, Master." Bellatrix was breathless and dizzy as she slumped against the wall. He slid his knuckles along her neck and stared at her like she was a steak and he was a starving man. His throat bobbed, and he mumbled,
"What a wretched temptress you are."
"Better than being a child," Bellatrix said, tipping her chin up. He scoffed a little and kissed her forehead, humming against her skin,
"Sleep off that wine. Your head will pound in the morning. Oh, and…" He aimed his wand at the empty bottle of wine she'd dropped onto the ground. She watched it Vanish into Non-Being, and she gratefully smiled at him. She smirked up at him and asked,
"You certain you don't want to stay?"
"I'm certain I do, which is why I need to go now," Voldemort told her. He petted her hair a little and shook his head. "A whole bottle of wine all on your own, then sneaking into Malfoy Manor. What got into you, hmm?"
"You did," she answered simply, and his playful smile faded a little. He nodded and bent to kiss her lips carefully, and he whispered,
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Master," she replied. "When shall I see you again?"
"Tomorrow, most assuredly," he said. "We have vampires to learn about, remember? You are still my student."
"Of course." Bellatrix curled up her lips. "What time?"
"Whenever you feel like rolling out of bed and your head isn't pounding and you aren't on the verge on being sick." Voldemort smiled warmly at her and shrugged. "I'll be patient."
"I am going to kill for you," Bellatrix said very seriously. Her words were still slurring, she knew, but her message came through. "I am going to torture for you. Kill for you."
"Yes. You are." Voldemort shut his eyes and looked terribly pained. "Goodnight, Bella."
"Goodnight, Master," Bellatrix said, and she watched him back away and Disapparate from the spot.
Author's Note: I went surfing today! Haha! Having lots of fun in Hawai'i and writing when I can - thanks so much for your patience and for reading and reviewing.