"Tetraplegus!"
Voldemort sliced his wand through the air as he whirled on the lawn outside Black Hall, and the spell socked into the Auror Barnabas Henry like a stone hitting water. All four of the skinny Auror's limbs went limp at once, and he collapsed onto the black earth. Voldemort spun back round toward the house, determined to maintain as many of these enemies as he could for interrogation. But when he saw Kenzie McNally's wand aimed at him, her thoughts hit him like a freight train.
Killing Curse. She was about to try and take him out. Well, he'd get there first. He swung his arm up, extending it out straight and bellowing in his mighty baritone,
"Avada Kedavra!"
Kenzie McNally was swallowed up by the jade green light of Voldemort's spell, and she went flying into the rosebushes, dead.
"Back into the house!" Voldemort yelled at Araminta Meliflua, who had appeared in the doorway with her wand out. She wanted to fight, to help, Voldemort could tell, but Araminta was a legislator in his movement, not a soldier. She was going to get herself killed. Araminta stepped outside onto the lawn, and Voldemort barked at her, "Will you disobey me, Araminta? I'll kill you for it! Get in the house and tell the others to scatter. I want this house completely empty! Now!"
"Yes, Master." Araminta, whose work pushing for harsher policies against Muggles had thus far gone nowhere but had been appreciated, dashed back into the manor and slammed the door shut. It closed just in time; a blast of white light ricocheted off the polished wood and sent splinters flying. Voldemort followed the trail of light to the wand that had cast the spell, and he saw an Auror whose name he couldn't place involved in a duel with Corban Yaxley. The Auror had obviously seen Araminta had thrown a spare hex. He and Yaxley were blocking one another's spells, one after the other.
Up the hill, Frances Crabbe was taking on a tall, plump witch in what looked like a vicious battle of wills. Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange went running in opposite directions, each of them off to help subdue the Aurors the others were fighting. Mulciber and Avery were in a three-way fight with a strong-looking wizard. There was light everywhere. Blue. White. Gold. Red. Hexes and jinxes and curses were soaring through the air as Death Eaters and Aurors wore themselves out fighting.
Suddenly Voldemort realised something. There was no information they would get from these Aurors that they couldn't get from Abraxas Malfoy, who was working undercover in the Department of Mysteries, or Yaxley in his work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And none of these Death Eaters were masked, owing to the nature of today's ambush. Voldemort put his wand to his throat and Amplified his voice, and he bellowed in a full voice that all of his Death Eaters would hear,
"Kill them. Kill them all."
He turned to Barnabas Henry, the Auror he'd paralysed with a Tetraplegus Hex earlier. The man was still lying prostrate on the ground, now slowly clawing his way forward as he began to regain a little movement in his arms. Voldemort aimed his wand at Barnabas and muttered almost haphazardly,
"Avada Kedavra."
There was a flash of green light and a clashing sound as the spell hit the Auror, and then his clenched hands flattened against the ground. Voldemort kept his wand aimed at the corpse and murmured,
"Corpus Evanesco."
He looked up to see green flashes all over. One by one, his Death Eaters were wiping out the Aurors, who couldn't block the Killing Curses. Soon enough, there were five dead Aurors. Why hadn't they sent more, Voldemort wondered? Only five had come on the mission to confront Lord Voldemort and obtain Bellatrix Black? Why hadn't they sent Dumbledore? Yes, today was the first day after Easter holiday, but why hadn't they sent Dumbledore to fight Voldemort directly and a dozen or more Aurors to fight the Death Eaters? This was almost lazy, and certainly foolish, on the Ministry's part.
There had been another face, he thought. Morton Brownstone, a dough-faced wizard from Kent who had been a Ravenclaw in Tom Riddle's year. Voldemort had caught a glimpse of Morton Brownstone just before…
Just before he'd screamed at Bellatrix to go. And now, as he walked around surveying the way his Death Eaters were Vanishing bodies, he knew that Morton was no longer here. Where had he gone? Had he somehow followed Bellatrix to The Reverie?
"Listen to me." Voldemort's voice was still Amplified, and he boomed out so loudly that all his Death Eaters and anyone left inside the house would hear him. "We have successfully eliminated the Aurors who have attacked us without provocation. It is a damnable shame that this attack occurred at what was meant to be the solemn marking of Irma Black's passing. But that will have to wait for another day. Now we scatter, all of us. Go to your homes. Wait. Do not gather in large numbers. Contact comes in cases of emergency only. Stay home whenever you can. Ours is the victory today, but we do not celebrate. We go underground. Await my signal to reemerge. Now go. Leave this place empty. Give them nothing to find."
With that, he nodded to Crabbe, Mulciber, and Avery, who were standing before him, and turned to clasp the shoulder of Rodolphus Lestrange. He stepped backward a few steps then and Disapparated, aiming for The Reverie.
When he came to, he felt a wave brush up against the backs of his boots and kiss the hem of his robe. He hurried up the rocks, for he saw a large cloaked figure lying upon them. A body? A corpse, there on the rocks? Voldemort ran as quickly as he could up the beach and across the stones. He rushed up to the black figure lying on the boulders, and he gasped.
Morton Brownstone. Dead. Bellatrix had to have killed him, Voldemort thought. He was lying on his back, staring straight up into the sun with unseeing eyes. His wand was sticking out of the rocks beside him at an awkward angle, as though he'd dropped it mid-fall. Then Voldemort saw it, all of the rocks and up on the grass, scarlet and gleaming, shining and wet and not from Morton. Blood. Bellatrix's blood. Voldemort stared at the body and then looked up at the white house, and suddenly he was running as fast as he possibly could.
"Bellatrix!"
He called her name in a desperate roar, using wandless magic to throw open the sunroom door and hurtling into the house. Ronky appeared out of thin air before him, and Voldemort heaved the creature up by its little shoulders and demanded in a snarl,
"Where is she? Where is Bellatrix?"
"M-Miss Bellatrix is upstairs healing, Master," Ronky stammered. "Ronky did his best."
"What do you mean, you did your best?" Voldemort threw the House-Elf onto the ground, and Ronky clamored backward until he hit the glass door. He used his own magic to shut the door and then said,
"Ronky saw Miss Bellatrix outside, dueling with a terrible wizard, sir. He was throwing hexes on her, sir. Ronky threw him back upon the rocks, sir, to make him stop. But then the awful wizard sliced open Miss Bellatrix, sir. He cut her clean apart, from her shoulder to her hip, sir, and her organs started falling out, sir. Ronky ran outside and started using House-Elf magic to try and save Miss Bellatrix, sir. Just before she fell unconscious, sir, she cast a Killing Curse on the terrible enemy wizard. She killed him, and then she collapsed. Ronky sealed up her wound as best as he could, sir, and then he brought her into the house."
"Where is she?" Voldemort began stalking toward the stairs, his heart pounding. "Is she going to live?"
"Miss Bellatrix has lost much blood, sir," said Ronky, trailing behind Voldemort, "but Ronky gave her many potions, sir, and used House-Elf magic."
"Potions. What potions?" Voldemort's feet pattered quickly on the stairs as he climbed. Ronky wheezed from behind him,
"Ronky put her organs back in place, sir, and used Essence of Dittany on her wound. Ronky gave her Anodyne Draught for the pain and to sedate her, sir. Ronky gave her Sanguinalis Serum to create new blood, sir. She is sleeping deeply now, sir, in the colorful room where her clothes are kept."
The damned rainbow quilt room. Voldemort rushed down the corridor and then paused for a split second. He whirled onto the House-Elf, who shrank back in fear. Voldemort gulped and nodded.
"Good work, Ronky," he said quickly, and the House-Elf looked immensely pleased. Voldemort hurried into the rainbow quilt room, and there he found Bellatrix lying on her back, her hat neatly placed on the table beside the bed. Her hair was still pulled into a tight chignon, but she had evidently been stripped down to her bra and knickers. Ronky had put the room's extra quilt over Bellatrix instead of tucking her into the bed. Smart elf, Voldemort thought. He stepped slowly into the room and gently peeled back the quilt.
He sucked in breath when he saw that her torso had been ripped wide open, Severed with magic. There was a thick, angry red line squiggling its way from her collarbone in a diagonal all the way down across her breast, over her flat belly, and onto her hip bone. Voldemort shut his eyes and tried to imagine her with her organs spilling out of her, the House-Elf rushing to the rescue as Bellatrix quickly killed the Auror who had apparently tagged along for a ride to this place.
He stared out the window at the blood on the rocks and grass. That was her blood. She'd bled all over whilst she was killing her enemy. His enemy. Their enemy. Voldemort glared at the corpse of Morton Brownstone and aimed his wand at the window.
"Corpus Evanesco," he murmured, and the body Vanished into Non-Being.
Six. There had been six Aurors sent, not five.
Voldemort gulped hard and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Bellatrix's hand into his as he whispered,
"That was very good fighting by my very best soldier. You are so very brave."
She didn't answer him, of course. She had been knocked out by Ronky's Anodyne Draught. For a long while, Voldemort just sat there and tried to imagine what had happened. Had she screamed in pain as she cast the Killing Curse? Had she tried to hold her organs in before Ronky had come to her aid? Had she cried out for mercy when Ronky had brought her inside and stitched her up with his magic?
"Master?"
Voldemort flicked his eyes to see Ronky standing in the doorway of the bedroom. He sighed and shrugged.
"What?"
"May Ronky get Master some tea?" Ronky looked very concerned. Voldemort licked his dry lip, realising how thirsty he was, and his eyes prickled as he said,
"Lemonade. Not tea."
"Straight away, Master." Ronky turned to go, but Voldemort called,
"Ronky." The elf came back, and Voldemort asked, "When she was in the worst of her pain… was she… did she…"
He wasn't even really quite sure what he was asking, but Ronky's little face softened, and the House-Elf informed Voldemort,
"She kept screaming one word over and over again, sir. Master. Master. Master."
Voldemort's breath hitched, and he just nodded. "I'll take that lemonade now."
"Yes, sir." Ronky trotted off then, and Voldemort turned back to Bellatrix. He adjusted the quilt up round her neck, ensuring she was warm even in her stripped-down state, and he stroked at her hair and forehead. He studied her face, seeing beauty all over her features, and he said softly,
"Bella, if you'd died…"
He couldn't finish that thought, for some reason. It made his chest ache, thinking of her being dead. His eyes seared like mad in a most embarrassing fashion. He tried to remind himself that he'd murdered two people today, that she'd killed someone. They were killers, the two of them.
"Master, your lemonade?" Ronky came toddling into the bedroom and handed a glass of iced lemonade over to Voldemort. He took it and nodded. Ronky knitted his fingers together and fretted, "Anything else, sir?"
"No. You've done enough. You've… you've done well." Voldemort nodded as Ronky bowed and backed out of the room, and he thought to himself that Abraxas had selected quite a good House-Elf for him. Voldemort sipped his lemonade and stared out the window, wondering if he ought to go outside and Siphon Bellatrix's blood off the rocks and grass. Perhaps later. Right now he needed to be near her. He needed to be with her.
"My Lord?"
He whirled so quickly at the sound of her whisper that he nearly dropped his lemonade. He wandlessly Banished it to the table beside the bed and let his lips fall open, struggling for words as he met Bellatrix's eyes. She looked glazed and drugged, the Anodyne Draught still heavy in her veins as she blinked slowly.
"How is your pain?" For some reason, that was Voldemort's first concern. He pursed his lips. "Are you in pain, Bella?"
"No, Master. I'm fine." She sounded dreamy, and she looked vaguely confused as she asked him, "Is he dead? The wizard who… the one who…"
"His name was Morton Brownstone, and he was an Auror. Yes, he is dead. You managed to kill our enemy whilst you were bleeding out from a horrific injury. I am exceedingly proud of you."
Bellatrix shut her eyes and was silent for a long while. He thought she'd fallen back to sleep, but then she asked in a very soft voice,
"What about the others? At… my grandparents'... house?"
"We killed the other five. Vanished their bodies. Everyone has scattered," Voldemort said. "The Ministry will panic that they lost six Aurors and didn't get you. We won the battle. But we're going underground to stay safe for a little while. I'll be staying here with you for a time."
Her lips curled up a bit, and she said gently, "How pleased I am… that we've won. I… I am sorry… that I got so hurt."
"The important thing is that you are alive," said Voldemort seriously, "and that you are here. You fought valiantly. Sounds like the elf did well, too."
"He's a good little thing," Bellatrix whispered. "I'd have died for certain."
"Well, you are not dead," said Voldemort, "and we are going to get you all healed up. Soon enough, you'll be finishing that painting of the sea. You'll be painting me. You'll be walking down by the shore, and you'll sleep in my bed, and you'll…"
He stopped then, for she'd shut her eyes again, and her breathing had slowed substantially. She'd drifted off to sleep. Voldemort chewed his lip and muttered,
"Sleep well, Bella."
He reached for his lemonade and sipped it, staring out the window at the drying blood on the rocks and grass. He sipped his lemonade again and then set it on the table beside the bed, and he heard a little whisper behind him.
"I love you."
He turned slowly, convinced he'd heard Bellatrix incorrectly. He blinked and stared at her, studying her face as she slept. He frowned a little, surprised when Bellatrix reached out a hand from underneath the quilt and slowly took hold of his fingers. Her head fell to the side; she was clearly slumbering away, but she whispered it again.
"I love you, Master."
Voldemort's stomach clenched. His head spun. His eyes burned so badly that he had to blink very quickly just to see. He wasn't sure what to say to her. Nothing, he reckoned; she was sleeping. But something compelled him to bring her knuckles to his lips and kiss them, and something made him inform her gently,
"I am so very proud of you. And you are… you are everything, Bellatrix, and it is not… it's more than just the prophecies, you understand? There is more to you and I than prophecies ordering us about. There is… you and I, we comprise something. A pairing of sorts. We are something, you and I, aren't we? With or without prophecies' foretellings? Hmm? You do realise that I genuinely care for you? Don't you?"
She did not answer him. She was deeply asleep. Voldemort kissed her knuckles again, set her hand down, and stood slowly, telling her sleeping form,
"I'm going to go clean up your blood from outside. You fought well, Bella. Now rest."
Author's Note: Battle! Angst! Hurt/Comfort! Fluff! Who needs a nap after that chapter? I know I need a nap after writing it. LOL. I would really love to know your thoughts. Please do take a moment to review. Thanks so much.