"Bella." Voldemort slammed his door shut and yanked Bellatrix through the door that led to his bedroom. He wanted her to act out her fantasy. Now. His cock was already swelling in his trousers. He needed the pleasure she had promised him. He'd aroused himself with the idea of it as they'd made their way back from Castle Lestrange to Malfoy Manor, as they'd climbed the stairs to his quarters. Now he wanted her - no, craved her - very badly indeed, and he found himself heated and frantic now. He pulled her into his bedroom and slammed that door shut, too. He whirled on Bellatrix and snapped down to her,

"So. You're bleeding. No sex, then. But you dreamed up quite an alternative, didn't you, Bella? Hm?" He snared his fingers into the hair she'd pulled back, and he murmured almost gently, "My cock in your mouth. Yes. I quite like the idea. Do it."

He said those last two words with a finality that left no room for argument, and Bellatrix gasped a little. She immediately sank down, descending to her knees. Her black tulle skirts billowed around her, and she looked so pretty staring up at him that Voldemort's throat went tight. He thought to himself that she was incredibly lovely, and that he did not feel foolish at all for the way he'd made moves on her at the party. Kissing her, holding her, touching her, claiming her right there in front of everybody had felt right, somehow. Or, at least, it had not felt very wrong. It had felt rather pleasant, smashing his mouth against hers where everyone could see. It had felt a bit thrilling in the best way to kiss her hand and to say that they wouldn't have missed the party. Somehow, he'd rather enjoyed attending as a couple with her.

And now she was gazing up at him, her lips full and shining and red. She would have enchanted her makeup to stay on, he thought, as he imagined her sliding her lips along his cock. He blinked a few times as he processed the idea of that, of her mouth on him, and he went so hard in his trousers that it ached badly. He gulped hard and took Bellatrix's face in his hands, and he whispered down to her,

"Pretty girl."

She smiled at that, a genuine smile that spread to her wide, brown eyes, and her fingers traveled inside his brocade robes to the buttons of his formal black trousers. He sucked in breath and murmured,

"Make it good, Bella."

"I shall try, Master," she replied, and suddenly her face was very nervous. Voldemort shucked his embroidered outer robe and let it pool on the ground around him, making way for her to access his trousers more easily. She did just that, unbuttoning more quickly and pulling out his hardened, excited cock. She gripped it tightly in one hand as her other hand yanked downward on Voldemort's trousers and underwear. He leaned back against the wall for support and pressed his palms onto the wallpaper, watching Bellatrix adjust his clothing as she gripped his cock. She stared at the tip for a long while, and then she bravely poked her tongue out of her mouth and swirled it round the end of his cock as though she were licking ice cream.

"Mmph." Voldemort tipped his head back against the wall. That felt good. Merlin's beard, that felt good. She did it again, swirling around the tip and then suckling a little bit. Voldemort let out a low whine of pleasure, and she knew she had him hooked. She sucked his tip harder into her mouth, and Voldemort's hands flew back to her hair. He was mussing her hairstyle, he knew, but he couldn't care. He gripped the sides of her head and watched as her eyes came up to meet his. She stared up at him as she began to bob her head up and down on his cock, and when his tip bumped the back of her throat, instead of gagging, she made a delightful swallowing motion. That was too much. It was perfect. Voldemort let out a choked noise at that, and when she did it again, he thought for sure he'd come. Bellatrix began to trail her well-lubricated hand behind her mouth, and her other hand went up beneath his shirt to caress his belly. That felt nice, too. This entire endeavour felt nice, Voldemort thought.

Soon enough she was stroking at his stomach with one hand whilst the other hand followed her mouth up and down the shaft of his cock. Her throat tightened rhythmically around his tip, swallowing him down every time she could, and it was so much. Too much. Just enough to breathe. Voldemort threw his head back, knocking his skull against the wall and not caring. He bucked his hips forward and declared,

"You had best decide whether you like the taste of a wizard's come, Bellatrix, because in a moment, you won't have a choice about it."

"Mmm…" She hummed onto him, sounding thirsty, and that did him in. The way she growled her want onto his flesh was the very last straw. He shut his eyes and tried to breathe as his balls drew up against his body. Everything went so tight that he could hardly think, and then everything detonated. He forced his eyes open, staring down at Bellatrix as she stared up at him, and he rather apologetically gave her a look as he felt his come pump into her mouth. But her eyelids went heavy and fluttered shut with satisfaction as she gulped it down, and suddenly Voldemort decided she was the very best servant that had ever existed. He craved her more in that moment than ever before, and as she pulled her mouth off of him, her lips swollen but still shiny scarlet, he murmured down to her,

"You are a very, very good girl, Bella."

She grinned self-consciously, bowing her head. "I only want to please you. Master."

"Well. That you have done." He tucked his still-hard cock into his trousers and lamented the fact that he couldn't please her back. Not tonight. He licked his bottom lip and eyed the bed, and he told her carefully, "You should stay."

Bellatrix slowly rose up off of her knees and stared at the bed. She flicked her eyes between it and Lord Voldemort and whispered,

"I haven't got a nightgown, My Lord."

"You'll wear one of my shirts." He tipped his head up, and Bellatrix's eyes went wide with wonder. Voldemort stepped over to his wardrobe, pulled it open, and took out a plain grey tunic. He handed it over to Bellatrix, who held it and looked as though she wanted to smell it. She breathlessly wet her bottom lip and kicked off her high heels, and then she asked meekly,

"May I be excused to the bathroom, Master?"

"Of course," he said primly, and he watched her go. His heart pounded in his chest whilst she was in there. He started to undress himself, to strip off his formal shirt and trousers that he'd worn beneath his outer robe. He kicked off his dress shoes and stripped off his socks. He Banished them all to the laundry hamper and pulled on black flannel pyjamas over his underwear. He cleared his throat and Scoured his teeth with his wand as he walked over to sit on the edge of his bed.

Was he really going to play sleepover with her? To what end? She'd already sucked his cock until he found his release. She wasn't available for any more sex. Why was he commanding her to sleep in his bed tonight? Voldemort frowned. He needed to keep her near to him. That was why. And besides, he didn't owe anyone an explanation. Not even himself. He sighed heavily as Bellatrix came walking out of the bathroom with her dress and tights folded neatly in a stack, wearing nothing but Voldemort's grey tunic, which nearly touched her knees.

His breath caught at the sight of her in his shirt. He remembered the way she hadn't gagged on him when she'd swallowed his come. She smelled like peppermint now; she'd obviously Scoured and Freshened her mouth. He could kiss her, then. Why did that sound so delectable right now? Why was she so delicious? Voldemort watched her set her dress and tights down by her shoes, and then she came round the bed and climbed up on the other side. She knelt on the bed and whispered,

"Shall I send an owl to my parents to let them know where I am, My Lord?"
"They know you're with me," he said firmly. He lay down and slithered beneath his heavy blankets, and he encouraged Bellatrix to do the same. Once they were covered up, he faced her and decided, for some bizarre reason, that she needed to know the truth. Something compelled him to tell her what was real in all of this. He reached for the lip she'd Scoured of lipstick, dragging his thumb over it. He neared her, smelling peppermint as he did, and he touched his lips to hers. She tasted good, the cold winter fresh upon her, and he kissed her again, more deeply this time. He dragged his tongue along her lip and heard her moan just a little, and when he pulled back just a bit, his voice vibrated against her mouth.

"There is, in fact, a prophecy."

He let that fact hang between them for a long while whilst her breath quickened and shook. Her hand went to his cheek, and she finally asked,

"What sort of prophecy, Master?"

Voldemort pulled farther back and studied her eyes. They were wide and curious. Beautiful. He cleared his throat a little and recited from his impeccable memory,

"She who is most loyal to the Dark Lord is she whom he needs most of all… He needs her beside him, and she must belong solely to him. Without this most loyal servant, his failure is certain… Further does she creep, farther does he fall. Withering like winter without her he will be. She craves him in the depths of her being, and time it is for him to crave back. She who is most loyal to the Dark Lord is she whom he needs most of all…"

Why had he told her? He panicked all of a sudden as Bellatrix's eyes went round as the Moon. Voldemort was suddenly absolutely terrified by what he'd done in telling her the prophecy. Only he should know of it, he told himself. Only he should know that this prophecy existed. It was why he'd Obliviated Abraxas Malfoy, and why he was about to Obliviate Bellatrix. He reached for his wand, and then he froze.

No.

She needed to know. She should know because if she knew, she could help him strengthen the outcome. She could help him ensure that she stayed close, loyal, his. She could help him see to it that he was successful, that he did not fail. After all, Bellatrix Black wanted nothing more in all the world than her master's success. So she would follow him to the ends of the Earth, including whatever that prophecy demanded of her.

"Master?" Bellatrix squeaked. "That's the prophecy? I am… I am the one referenced? She who is most loyal to the Dark Lord… you think it's me?"

"Who else could it possibly be?" Voldemort snapped, setting down his wand. "What other female is half so loyal to me as you, Bella?"

She started to cry silently then, and she just nodded. She whispered,

"He needs her beside him, and she must belong solely to him. This is what you've been quoting, what you've been referencing."

"Yes." Voldemort reached over to hold her cheek in his hand. "And the prophecy spells doom for me, Bellatrix, if you belong to anyone else, or if you drift away from me. Without this most loyal servant, his failure is certain… further does she creep, farther does he fall. Withering like winter without he will be. And I do crave you, Bellatrix; I do. I do."

He kissed her very hard then, so hard that she squealed against him. He rolled her back against her pillow, messing her hair and not caring. He grasped at a breast through his tunic and hummed onto her mouth as his tongue searched her lip. She grabbed at his shoulders for purchase and finally ripped her mouth away, murmuring,

"I'll stay close. I'll stay yours. Forever. I will not let you fail."

"Good girl." He nodded and rolled back, bringing her with him. She was breathless as she rolled atop him, straddling him even though she couldn't actually ride him properly just now. She started to roll her hips against him a little, and Voldemort huffed roughly. He gripped her waist and suddenly wanted nothing more than to be inside of her. Soon, he thought. Soon, he would be, and soon after that. He'd have her often, for a great long while. She was his. Just like the prophecy ordered.

"Bellatrix," he said through gritted teeth, and she shook her head as she tipped it back and let her hair fall from its chignon. Her curls tumbled over her back, and she said determinedly,

"I will not be the reason anything bad happens to you, My Lord. I am wholly and entirely yours, just as the prophecy foretells I must be. And I shall be more than glad about it, believe me. I shall stay very near you, and serve you faithfully always, so that you will succeed."

Voldemort yanked her down off of his waist, and she landed with an oof on the bed beside him. He kissed her rather frantically, and this time, she pushed her own tongue back into his mouth. He groaned and pulled back from her to whisper down to her,

"You'll attack those Muggles tomorrow afternoon, if the weather's fair."

"Yes, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded, red-cheeked and glassy-eyed with want. She curled up alongside him, and it took quite a long while before Voldemort's heart slowed down enough for him to think about shutting his eyes. By the time he did, he quickly lost himself to sleep. He was so relieved at having told her, at having loosed the truth to her, that sleep came like a drug washing over him. And she was right there, right there beside him where she was meant to be, her leg crossed over his and her arm over his chest, her peppermint winter breath cool on his neck where she was curled.

Lord Voldemort had never slept so deeply in all his life, and when in the morning he woke, he was shocked to see that it was half past eight and he'd been unconscious for so long. Bellatrix didn't stir beside him, and for a few moments, he didn't wake her, loathe to undo the blissful tangle in which they found themselves.

After all, she was beautiful, and she was intelligent, and she was loyal, and she was his…

And now she knew the truth.

Author's Note: Ahhhh! She knows about the prophecy! Certainly seems like this will only strengthen them, right? But, uh, raise your hand if you have a bad feeling about this Muggle attack. Hmmm… Thanks as always for reading. Thanks a million times over for reviewing. I can't tell you how much I value your feedback.