Bellatrix lay sprawled upon the masculine, dark grey French linen sheets of Professor Riddle's bed, wearing only her underthings and knee socks. She was being taught a lesson in patience, but that didn't mean she couldn't trail the pads of her fingers along the seams of her black satin and lace bra, daring him to deliver her the pleasure he had promised.

Tom sliced his wand through the air to cast a silent diffindo to rid her of the last strips of fabric concealing her modesty, which made her tremble and protest a little—not because she was scared of his simple severing charm, but because she was quite fastidious with her wardrobe (even if she could afford to replace anything that was ripped and buy all of Diagon Alley with gold to spare)— so, he repaired the delicate lace articles with another flick of his wand, and they joined the collared wool dress and his crumpled slacks in a pile on the floor.

He stepped out of his own underwear now, and stood before Bellatrix completely naked. She basked in the power that seemed to radiate from her Master's body. Her eyes trailed across the smooth ridges of his pectorals, the faded white criss-crossing of scars on his chest, and then to the raised veins of his strong forearms. Her eyes cast lower to marvel at his very respectably-sized member, and she wanted to be caught looking, for him to search her mind and see how aroused he made her.

Approaching slowly, he kneeled next to her on the bed and set about pleasing her, dragging the tip of his heavy cock against her sensitive nub, grazing it with a delicate, almost ghostly touch at first, then tracing wider circles around the area, taking his time. She issued a series of pleased little noises that conveyed how relaxed she was under his touch. Two fingers plunged into her warm satin folds, then curled inward, making her knees tremble and her hands and feet skitter. With his hand still buried knuckle-deep, Tom Riddle performed powerful, wandless elemental magic that Bellatrix could not recognize. It was unlike any pleasure she had felt before, as if air currents were being manipulated to concentrate on the centre of her pleasure. Tom knew that this display would stimulate her body and her mind that craved his knowledge and prowess; it took very little time at all to bring her to her first creeping climax.

"Thank you, Master. That was…impossible to describe. Wherever did you learn that?" she asked breathlessly.

"I learned to manipulate air and fire from an ancient practitioner of elemental magic who lived in a tiny village in the Bohemian Forest," explained Tom, as if what he had just described was completely normal.

"Well, I'm glad that you learned it."

He chuckled, stroking himself in his fist. On a whim, he thwacked his cock against her glistening pussy several times. He smacked her with it on her forehead, her cheeks, and her glossy lips; she looked serenely happy, he thought, and it made him pleased to see his firebrand of a witch delight in such a submissive act. At last, he rolled his hips into her, acclimating her to his heft and length. Tom hoisted one of her legs over his shoulder, so that she arched backward, her arse rising up from the bed. Grabbing her thighs for leverage, he thrust into her like a truncheon; his fingertips dug into her smooth, ivory skin with just enough pressure that there would undoubtedly be fresh violet bruises visible the next day. Bellatrix moaned like a harlot as he pounded her vigorously; the percussive sound of slapping skin rang out in her ears as her chest rose and fell.

For some reason or another, her mind fixed upon a wave of dark hair that had become stuck to her Master's forehead with sweat in the heat of their passion; she smiled knowing that he would have fixed it were he not currently fucking her for all she was worth. Staring up into his eyes, mottled like dark blue agate stones, there was something more there than the coldness she usually found. This time, she could notice a real sanguine warmth. Whether or not he loved her, Bellatrix was certain that she would be a very happy wife, as long as he moved his body inside hers like this.

"Master… Oh, Master! …Your cock feels so good…it fills me up so perfectly," panted Bellatrix between his impacts, as her devotion reached a fever pitch.

Tom was surprised at how much he loved hearing her use such filthy words, as he had often found talking in bed to be a distraction from taking what he needed. She felt gloriously tight and warm around him; he couldn't help but think about how much better she felt than Savanna Yaxley and all those other trysts that had been so mechanical, and in which he hadn't cared a knut for the witch in question. And none had ever called him Master so prettily.

It was as if the sound waves of her praise were being converted into pure kinetic energy, and he continued pumping into her body like he was a much younger man. But of course, he still was relatively young and in his prime of life, he thought. And even when he did get older, he wouldn't feel the effects of age in the same way as mortals. Judging by the sounds she was making, he knew that his performance was satisfying her plenty.

"Remember how shamelessly you behaved on the first day of class, wearing your skirt shorter than uniform-length? You were so eager to become my classroom pet, my little cock sheath. You knew I wasn't one of your sacred Twenty-Eight, but you didn't care; you cared only for the power and greatness of Lord Voldemort. Isn't that so, my little Bella?"

"Yes, my Lord!" she choked out, as he moved his hands away from her thighs, placing one over her throat as the other hand roughly kneaded a breast while still keeping up his punishing pace. There would likely be a bloom of bruises on her chest to match those on her thighs tomorrow. Bellatrix met his every stroke hallway, lifting her hips to receive him. Every propulsion made her more delirious as her needy pearl rubbed torturously against his pelvis. The sensation spread to the spot within her womanhood that he knew exactly how to reach, and brought her so close to her precipice that he could read it in her expression without even needing to look into her mind.

"Come for me, Bella. Do it," he growled.

She buried her face into the side of the pillow as she felt herself uncoil around him; her mind went blank at the same moment her climax hit like a tonne of bricks, sending intense, tremor-like spasms through her core.

"Good girl," he said silkily.

She had explored her body a little bit with her fingers, but had never been quite skilled enough to give herself this kind of otherworldly blended orgasm that seemed to make her whole body feel alight with bluebell flames. It was as if their magic had danced and combined in a powerful synergy. She had frankly never thought such a thing existed. None of the books for young witches about what to expect during intercourse ever made it sound like sex and pleasure had anything to do with each other. Sex was procreative for married witches only, and it was a duty to ensure that the husband was satisfied, or else he might 'look elsewhere.'

She snapped back into the moment when she heard the sound of his gruff breathing, and knew he was nearing his own completion.

"Unghf." Tom felt a tightening sensation, and pulled out quickly, spilling himself all over her taut stomach and breasts. He admired the look of her pale pink nipples, still puckered from her orgasm, and now coated in his seed. He had somewhat tortured himself by not using his hand to find release the past couple of days, and so the quantity was a lot. But Bellatrix wasted no time collecting it all and sucking her greedy fingers clean. She licked his softening length from base to tip before she collapsed beside him.

Once he had recovered himself, Professor Riddle cast a cleaning spell on them both, fixed the bedsheets, and then they sat propped up against the pillows.

"You know, my Lord, I'm going to always demand that kind of effort from you now," said Bella.

"That was like running a marathon for me, Bellatrix. I'm almost 42. Something came over me though, almost like my personal magic was being assisted by yours. That has been known to happen, though it's rare. But maybe next time you should be the one who puts in the effort, hm?"

"I'm fine, thanks," she said, flopping over dramatically before turning around to laugh. He shook his head, but seemed unbothered, giving her a gentle kiss on her shoulder.

"How would you like me to take you to a meeting of my Inner Circle, Bella? After the Ball, which I'm sure will be your first successful mission."

"You'd take me to a meeting, Master? Without marking me?" she wondered in wide-eyed bewilderment. "Won't the others be shocked that someone of my age is being brought into the fold?" She also thought, but did not add, someone of her gender.

"This is more of, shall we say, an informal event. This won't be the full thirty or so members of my organization, just a select six who are the most loyal to me. You will have a very special role to play. Not to say that you won't have your official induction later. I will subject you to the same standard of proving yourself in an initiation rite along with the other new inductees."

"I'll do anything you wish, Master."

"They need to understand just how important you are to the furtherance of our goals, as the witch who is to assist my rise. You'll know Abraxas, as his son is your little sister's beau. You've probably seen the others around at society parties. All except Antonin, who keeps quite to himself. It goes without saying these men are dangerous, but I'll protect you."

"I think I can hold my own. I spend lots of time with the Darkest wizard of them all, don't I?" Bellatrix grinned, but her Master did not smile.

"You will not speak unless spoken to. You will show me the proper respect at all times, and obey me like the good girl I know you can be," ordered Tom.

"What if I started discussing how you listen to classical muggle opera and read their novels? Or, if I called you Tom in front of them, what would happen to me?" She intentionally posed the questions in a lilting, innocent voice, but own boldness shocked her; she wouldn't have dared taken such liberties with him ordinarily. Something within her wanted to act up to reassert her independence just a little.

"Be a naughty brat in private if you're willing to suffer the consequence of a red, sore arse. But if you ever make me appear weak in front of my followers, I promise you that your last moments on earth will be spent in agony."

His threat sent shivers travelling down Bellatrix's spine and renewed the tingling between her thighs. She was fairly confident that he knew what she was doing, as she felt a light pressure in her brain, and so she felt safe enough to continue, "You took an Unbreakable Vow to marry me. I think killing me before you can do it would break the Vow, my Lord."

"I've no patience for your present antics, Bella. I know what you're attempting. You'd love nothing more than for me to give you such a good walloping that you wouldn't be able to sit down comfortably for a week."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, my Lord," she teased.

"I think, Miss Black, that it would be in your best interest to return to your dormitory now before curfew," he said firmly.

"I was actually hoping that I might sleep here tonight, my Lord. Only because that way I can attend to your needs more effectively. I'll help you fall asleep by massaging your back. If you require further use of my body or my mouth in the morning, it will be convenient having me already here. I'll even lay out your clothes and polish your shoes, and make you breakfast. I want to do things a wife would do for you."

"It's funny," Tom said, a glint in his eyes suggesting he was in actually in quite a good mood despite his mock disciplinary tone, "that I become soft for one day, giving you a sincere apology I meant very much, and now look at you. Trying to manipulate me. How very Slytherin of you."

"How very Slytherin of me to out-Slytherin the heir of Slytherin himself," Bella giggled.

"I can't confound your roommates every time you wish to sleep in my bed, Bella. I wish things were different, but we still need to be very careful. We don't want anyone else to suspect something. I've already had to alter your sister's memories."

"Won't you cuddle with me at least?" pleaded Bella, relaxing her lips into a pout, "Then I'll go."

"You wish to… cuddle?"

"Yes please," she answered.

Tom Riddle was familiar with the kinds of post-coital expectations that witches, and especially young witches, often had, but he usually gave the bare minimum to set up the expectation that he had no tolerance for sentimental nonsense. But it was usually a pleasant feeling, the warmth of her skin against his own icy extremities. He was always casting heating charms on himself in the draughty Defence classroom. Even with a fire going he tended to be cold more often than not (an unintended effect of making his most recent Horcrux). He also reminded himself that the prophecy was an additional safeguard against any possible weakening of his power, and from a logical standpoint, perhaps he ought to show her more frequent affection, to keep her contented and loyal to him.

"Come closer then," relented Tom. Bella moved in closer and curled her arms around his torso, as he pulled her flush against his body and used his knees to anchor her much shorter legs in place so that she was happily stuck until he decided otherwise. She massaged circles into his back as his large hands came to rest on her waist, gently pressing her into him.

"Do you remember our first kiss, Bella? I had deliberated on keeping you in the classroom and doing a ritual. All I managed was that I bit your lip, and sucked it. I performed a series of runic spells when you left. Even that small amount of blood strengthened me, Bella. I can feel that you've made me stronger, and I think that might even be why our magic worked synergistically. When you kill at my behest, we'll do another ritual, and you'll strengthen me more."

Bellatrix tried to remember back to that first encounter, and realised that yes, without a doubt, her Master had bitten her lip rather hard and intentionally lapped up the blood with his tongue, then mysteriously stanched the flow. It filled her with joy that she had been of use to him.

"You could've told me that day, Master. I'm a Black. We love blood magic. Our home is warded up by blood magic, and it requires sacrifices to renew itself. I'm not squeamish; I would've given you an entire vial," insisted Bellatrix.

"Well, you must forgive me. I didn't know then that the eldest Black daughter was a young witch of such…unique disposition, who enjoys all manner of Dark and perverse pleasures," he said, quirking his eyebrow and smirking slightly.

Bellatrix laughed with her mouth almost directly pressed against his chest, as she had a rather sudden idea, "Do you think you could say something to me in Parseltongue?"

"Like what?"

"Is there a word that describes… what we are?" she asked tentatively, hoping that he might find the prospect of expressing emotions less daunting if she would have no idea what he was saying.

"Snakes are solitary animals. They only really approach each other for mating, or to sometimes advise others of where food or danger might be. But there is a word for a favourite mate, one for whom you share a fondness."

He said something that only registered to her as sibilant hisses. She tried to recreate the sounds he made, with predictably poor results. Tom laughed harder than he had done in a long time, possibly since he'd arrived back in England.

"It almost sounded like you were telling me to eat dirt. I'm serious. Don't try to communicate to actual snakes, as they might not be as understanding as me."

"Oh no. Now it's your turn to forgive me," she giggled.

"You're forgiven. Now, you should probably think about heading back, hmm?"

Bellatrix dragged her body out of bed, staring glumly and pouting to convey how loathe she was to leave. She quickly dressed and combed her wild tangles with her fingers into an acceptable style that would not convey how she had spent the past hour being mercilessly pounded by the wizard who was only Professor Riddle to the rest of the school.

Before she turned toward the door, ready to cast a disillusionment charm on herself, she was suddenly overcome by doubt and anxiety.

"What if Dumbledore discovers it was me who cursed the goblets and I get expelled? What if I'm labelled a criminal?"

Sensing her unease, he leapt from the bed to comfort her and cupped her chin in his hands as he did his best to reassure her that everything would work out.

"That won't happen. You're going to be careful, and if anyone sees anything, it's Andromeda and not you who will be blamed. But I do have a contingency plan in case my cover is ever blown at the school. Abraxas has a property he assures me is unplottable. If anyone should accuse you of acting upon my orders, I would simply allow for you to disappear for a time there. I have enough gold in my vaults in case you ever lost access to yours. I'll never abandon you, ever. I will help you get out of any trouble that you find yourself in. I'd go to the end of the earth for you. Now relax. It's a school dance, and you're only cursing what, four goblets? That's nothing."

"You're right. Thank you for always making me feel calm, Master." He would go the end of the earth for her. In some ways that was a deeper commitment than saying 'I love you,' she thought.

"Haven't your parents ever told you how many Mudbloods were petrified when they attended school? More than four, and one girl was killed. People like us are too good to be caught, hmm?"

"Of course. I want nothing more than to make you proud of me."

"You already have. In so many ways. Goodnight, Bella."

"Goodnight, Master. I love you."

He gave her hand a little squeeze and kissed her. She didn't move, as if waiting for a response, but when she realized one wasn't coming, cast the charm and tiptoed quietly out of the portrait of Merlin to walk back to the girls' dormitories.

As soon as she left, a memory presented itself to him entirely unbidden, of watching a precocious girl in a buttercream yellow party dress, on the awkward edges of childhood and teenage surliness, nestled among a group of adults at a dining table set with gleaming silverware bearing the Black family crest, and plates of every delicacy imaginable; the child was clearly Bellatrix, and Druella had no doubt forced her to wear the yellow dress to a dinner at Orion Black's house. That must have around 1962, and he had never thought to pay any special attention to Cygnus's young daughters, to observe them for any special proficiencies or talents.

Six years later, she walked into his classroom, carrying herself like a queen; and yet, she had heard of his movement, and from sheer desire to be close to him as he worked toward the most noble purpose of all, she had removed her crown and supplicated to be made his most faithful. She was already closer than anyone had ever come to seeing his true self, more than Abraxas, or Savanna, or any of those socialites who were cogs in his game of climbing to the top. Sure, there might be some pleasant memories, but all of his relationships had been fundamentally hollow. Until Bellatrix. He felt convinced in the marrow of his bones then that she was his favourite mate, and he had grown to be very fond of her indeed.