I'm alive! So the original challenge might have been to finish it by the first week of December, but I still wanted to publish the rest even if the challenge is over. After more than a few disruptions and distractions, here is the next chapter. Featuring an increase in the ratings, some Voldemort musings and Adele determined to do something, I hope you enjoy. Hopefully next chapter will not have as long a wait, it just needs to be edited.

Adele was not a stupid or foolish woman. Intelligent and cunning, when she set her mind to a task, she could be unbeatable.

Sometimes.

This was one case where she felt like she had been thwarted.

Almost.

The knowledge that her husband was having an affair had haunted her at every moment. Before she had only suspected. Before she had not known for sure, but now there was no reason to doubt the truth: Lestrange had confirmed it. It might not have been his intention though, inadvertently, that was the impact of his words.

Even though she had known the truth, she wished she could act the same. She wished she could still pretend she could have a happy life and marriage.

She was not that person.

Instead, she could not remove those painful wonderings from her mind. When her husband arrived home late, she wondered if he was with her. When her husband showed no interest in her for days she wondered if she had already slept with him. When he locked his door and she was not allowed inside, she wondered if she was with him. When he or she seemed happy, she could only think that it was because they had just slept with each other.

In the end, she could just not get it out of her brain. While she had headed Rodolphus Lestrange's advice and kept silent, she could not allow herself to do nothing. It was just a matter of what to do.

It was what she had concentrated on instead. At least productivity gave her some feeling of power even where there was none. She was not the type of woman who coped well with being powerless.

While Lestrange had confirmed the affair, in reality, she did not have any proof. She might have known it in her own mind, but that meant nothing.

If she wanted to achieve anything she would need a tool of her own.

Proof.

If she was in France, it would be a simple matter. She had a network of people who would do anything for her. In England it was more complicated. She was not influential other than what her husband could grant her. Of course any of the Dark Lord's assistants and workers would never side with her over him. As well, she could never have the ability to utilise her own connections.

She would need something else.

France had not embraced house elves like England had. Her home country preferred actual human labour for domestic work. It was more personal. Having that stripped from her had originally been difficult, but she had adapted to the elves. They did anything she asked for unless it was in contradiction to something the Dark Lord had ordered.

If he had given them specific orders.

Smirking proudly to herself, she handed a camera over to the small elf in front of her.

"When your Master and Bellatrix Lestrange are together, take a photo of them," she ordered in French, thankful the creature could understand her native tongue. The creature looked up at her confused and she was forced to specify, attempting not to blush or scream as she did so. "When they are intimate? You do know what that means?"

The elf looked at her and nodded with his floppy ears moving visibly. The Dark Lord had never told the elf he could not take pictures of him so her order did not contradict anything.

It was perfect.

"Still as punctual as ever. That only took," he said softly passing a glance over at the clock resting on the mantel piece, before he settled his blood shot eyes on the woman who had just entered, "ten minutes. So swift one would think you were waiting the entire day for the burn."

"Though I was, Master," answered Bella with great enthusiasm as she carefully shut the door behind her and approached her Lord. He was emotionless as she moved closer, though her stare that did not focus on anything but him and her eyes were filled with passion and joy. "I always await your call with the upmost attention. Nothing could be as important as responding to anything you desire."

The Dark Lord was a man who was always determined to gain control of others. He knew he was worthy of worship and should always be superior. Many Death Eaters and followers had recognised that, but Bella's level of devotion had gone up and above that.

Nothing pleased him more.

Resting his quill back in the holder on his desk, he rose to his full height and strode towards her. Bella did not move. She only looked up at him her eyes filled with desire. It was so easy to pull her strings .It was just so convenient that the way to control her best was also the way that brought him pleasure.

Standing above her from his imposing height, he ran a finger down her cheek as he often had done. She leant in savouring the sensation. It always amused him to see how such a small gesture had such an impact on his lieutenant. She thought it meant he cared for her. No, he just enjoyed watching how he had so much power over a woman who could never be controlled by anyone else.

"So loyal," he whispered softly, bending down so his lips were close to her ear. "So dedicated."

"Only for you, Master," she practically purred, eyes bright.

"I know," he replied briefly before he cut off any reply. Seizing her chin in a vice like grip, he brought his lips to hers in a brutal dominating kiss. He would have it no other way. Gentle kisses were pointless in his mind. They certainly brought him joy. Of course, they could be used for manipulation, though Bella was entwined in his web to such an extent he did not need to bother enhancing her loyalty.

Like a snitch that had been released from its lock, Bella's hands clutched at his robes attempting to draw him closer. He had no complaints. He only fuelled the contact by sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him.

There was something about Bella that always seemed so much more appealing than any other woman he could have chosen. She was older now and certainly he had his choice of younger flesh which he divulged himself in, including his wife, but Bella had this ability to please him like no one else could. Perhaps it was because she shared his sadistic side while somehow presenting masochistic desires for any pain he would cause her. It certainly combined two factors that pleased him.

He was the one to break his lips away first. He did not move his body from where it was, only his lips so he could talk. He was about to tell her to move upstairs, though he was halted when Bella's lips latched themselves onto his neck while, her hand that had been pawing at his robes, moves south to stroke his crutch through his robes.

Normally he was one to remain composed, but darn this woman could melt his coldness when she tried. The hiss of pleasure was not at all suppressed.

No matter what he wanted control. No matter the situation: Sexually or otherwise. He knew Bella was similar, but she submitted to him completely. It only heightened the arousal he felt to see such a proud and powerful woman completely his.

However, traces of her usual boldness appeared as they had tonight. Often he would punish her for her behaviour. Striking her across the face was often his first port of call, but it was not unusual to make her suffer under the Cruciatus Curse for her actions. Admittedly, its effectiveness was sometimes limited by her masochistic streak.

Though, equally, sometimes he allowed her to get away with her behaviour. Like now, as she slipped her hand into his now open trousers. She was just too good with her hands and he too focused in the pleasure he desired to scold her.

To a point.

While she continued to stroke him, she attempted to push him backwards into the lounge chair. Now, there was allowing her to please him by her own initiative and there was attempting to take control. The line between them might be blurred, but, once he sensed it had been crossed, he acted.

Immediately he struck, slamming the back of his hand into her cheek. She staggered back, barely managing to stay upright. It did not stop her. The shock was only for a moment before she attempted to close the distance.

He was prepared.

He did not allow her to and instead crashed his fist into her nose.

Others would be daunted but no dear Bella just seemed even more excited. It was painfully obvious by the hungry gleam in her eyes, a curious mimic of his own expression. He did not allow her to recover this time. He closed the distance himself. He did not kiss her. He merely seized her wrists and slammed her against the wall. He did not flinch even when her head made a dull thud sound as it collected probably painfully with the plaster.

He pressed himself up against her causing her to whimper softly.

"Tut, tut, Bella," he said returning to his usual cold tone despite the evidence of his arousal digging into her and the fact that his lips was only an inch or two away from her own. "You should learn to behave."

Bella did not seem at all bothered, in fact her eyes only seemed to glow. "I only want to please you, Master," she murmured her voice husky.

"You please me by your obedience. Not your disobedience."

"I only aim to please, Master," she repeated. Her wrists attempted to fight his grip though he doubted those actions were motivated by any desire to escape. "You are always my Master. In every way."

The way she said those words sent a surge through his body that was his final breaking point. Adjusting the grip on her writs, it allowed one of his hands to rip her clothing from her, in the process likely tearing the fabric. He could not care less at the moment. His only concern was what lay underneath her robes.

Unusual distracted, he did not notice the small creature with bat like ears in the corner with a camera.