"Rodolphus?" Bellatrix was surprised when the figure to knock on and walk through her door later that day was her husband and not her master. She gulped when she saw his bruised face, and she said half-heartedly, "Sorry for punching you."
"It was inappropriate of me to kiss you without asking," Rodolphus admitted. "You don't know this, but I have spent many days of the last year giving you a kiss in the morning to say hello. I thought I was being cheeky. No pun intended."
Bellatrix smirked a little, realising she'd probably had sex with this man. No, she definitely had. They were married, after all. She only vaguely knew what sex was. She had lost her experiences, it seemed, but her skills and knowledge had remained almost entirely intact. She frowned as she thought about what the matron at Hogwarts had taught the girls about sex. She couldn't remember the specific lesson; the memory of actually learning it was gone. But she knew that it involved a wizard putting his erect penis inside a witch's vagina, and that if he climaxed within her, she could become pregnant. Bellatrix sighed a little and decided to broach something no one had brought up yet.
"Do we have a baby, you and I?"
"Oh. Erm, no," Rodolphus assured her, shaking his head vigorously. "The Dark Lord wants us to wait until after the war's won. We have to spend our time and energy fighting for him; you can't be consumed with childbearing. He insisted that you take a Contragravidare Potion when we were married. It works for five years, you know?"
"I think someone told me that once, but I can't remember who," Bellatrix said. She blinked a few times and swallowed hard, raising her eyes and studying Rodolphus. He was young like her; she'd been told that they were the same age. Nineteen. Rodolphus was tall and lanky with thick, dark brown hair, pale freckles on his milky skin, and glimmering hazel eyes. His features were kind, but he'd been a fierce soldier, too. She'd seen it. Could she want him the way a wife was meant to want a husband? She needed to figure that out quickly.
She walked across the room, striding up to Rodolphus and reaching up to hold his face. But she asked him seriously,
"In the memories, I stared at him with want in my eyes."
Rodolphus flinched beneath Bellatrix's touch, and he stammered,
"You… you've admired him for a long time. I wouldn't know if the two of you… it wouldn't be my business."
"No?" Bellatrix asked lightly, and Rodolphus shook his head.
"No, of course not. He's our master. And, anyway, you and I are in an arranged Pureblood marriage. I'm sure you know what that means."
Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and thought hard. She shook her head, confused, and then pulled her hands away. She cleared her throat a little, thinking of how she intellectually knew that many Pureblood wizards kept a mistress when they were in an arranged union. Had her father had a mistress? Had Rodolphus? Bellatrix looked away and asked,
"Who is she?"
"We don't have to discuss that," Rodolphus said simply, and Bellatrix shut her eyes. It hurt, somehow, knowing this. Then she looked up at Rodolphus and demanded sharply,
"Restore my memory. I'm sure I knew. Who is she?"
"Stella Nott," Rodolphus shrugged. "A girl from school. You knew then; Stella's father couldn't afford an arrangement for her, and you and I were already betrothed. You didn't really care. It was easier for you. You got to keep your distance. We kissed every now and then; we were physical once in a blue moon, but… we weren't… erm…"
"I understand. Thank you for your honesty," Bellatrix said, nodding. Rodolphus sighed, looking embarrassed, and he told her,
"You know, I've cared deeply about you for years. You and I really have always been more like really good friends. If you'd like, we can keep on like that. We can be husband and wife and… really good friends."
"That sounds nice," Bellatrix nodded, and she told him, "I was going to go downstairs and eat dinner. I assume you'll be going back to Castle Lestrange? I saw it in a memory. Well. I saw the ballroom. Perhaps soon he'll let you take me there soon to see where I really live."
"Of course. You have your own suite there. We live with Rabastan, my brother. You're good friends with him, too; the two of you love to battle one another at Gobstones on rainy days."
"Was I ever with Rabastan?" Bellatrix asked, and Rodolphus snorted.
"Not likely. He likes wizards."
"Oh." Bellatrix laughed a little, reaching up to plant her hands on Rodolphus' chest. She patted him there and said apologetically, "I do feel badly about punching you. You were just trying to be kind, it seems."
"Well, I've always tried to be kind to you, Bella," Rodolphus said, and she was surprised to hear him use the shortened name again. She nodded, and he squeezed at his hands, and she mumbled,
"Thank you for coming. Thank you for filling in some of the gaps."
"Be well, Bella," Rodolphus told her. He dragged his thumbs over hers and then nodded, turning to go.
Bellatrix was finishing up the breaded chicken, potato, and asparagus that the House-Elf had brought her in the dining room, sipping on white wine from a silver goblet, when the room's heavy door opened. Bellatrix flew to her feet when she saw that it was Lord Voldemort walking in, but he gestured for her to sit. She was very surprised to see him carrying a large, heavy-looking wooden box with runes carved around it. He sank down into a chair on the opposite side of the table from her, and when he set the box down, she knew what was inside.
"I wanted Rodolphus to explain for himself the fact that he's got a mistress," Voldemort said in a clip. "Of course, nearly all Pureblood wizards do, especially young, hot-blooded ones in arranged marriages where they had no say in things. But I wasn't sure how you'd take that news from me, and I really didn't feel like being on the receiving end of a punch."
Bellatrix huffed and took another few bites of chicken. She finished off her asparagus and then her mashed potato, and she informed Voldemort,
"He seems like a good man. We are to be very good friends, he says. He told me about Rabastan's preferences. He sounds like a good friend, too. It seems I had more friends than I'd imagined."
"Hmm." Voldemort just nodded and drummed his fingers on the carved wooden box. He shrugged and said, "I am willing to answer any questions you may have."
"Have you got a mistress?" Bellatrix asked at once, and Voldemort threw up an eyebrow. He let the question hang heavily for a long moment, and then he finally shook his head.
"No. Witches are a horrendous distraction from the important things I have to do. I don't trouble with them. Not in that way."
That was a relief to hear, somehow. Bellatrix found herself rather disliking the mental image of Lord Voldemort with some random female. She wasn't sure why.
"When did you put this tattoo on me?" Bellatrix asked.
"The Dark Mark," Voldemort corrected her. "You became a Death Eater younger than anyone else. Right when you turned seventeen. I'll show you that memory, if you'd like."
"All right." Bellatrix nodded and stood, walking quickly around the dining table. She knew what was in that box. Sure enough, Voldemort cracked open the box, revealing the basin of the Pensieve inside, and he used his wand to draw out a silvery thread from his temple. He placed it into the basin, and he encouraged Bellatrix toward the Pensieve. He bent down, and so did Bellatrix, and the two of them were yanked and pulled through space until they landed in a washed-out scene here in Malfoy Manor.
It was in Voldemort's office. He looked slightly less tired, though only a little, but Bellatrix looked like little more than a child. She was wearing a hooded velvet robe, kneeling before Voldemort, her left arm extended. She stared up at him, her eyes wide and full of wonder. She was adoring him, marveling at him with tears brimming in her gaze, and he smiled down at her with genuine happiness.
"Bellatrix Black," he said crisply, "Do you promise to serve me for the rest of your days as a Death Eater? Do you promise to die for me if need be, to kill for me if need be, to do everything and more I ask of you?"
"Of course I do, Master," Bellatrix whispered, and he took hold of her left hand. His face looked more content than ever, and he dragged his fingers over the pale skin of her forearm as he murmured,
"Then I make you mine. Morsmordre."
Bellatrix gasped as he drew a complex design on her arm with the tip of his wand, and she panted as if she were in ecstasy as the Dark Mark appeared on her skin, first pink, then burgundy, then inky black. She hissed in agony for a moment, but then she moaned softly, and the mark faded. Voldemort bent down, bringing her arm up to him, and he kissed the place where he'd marked her. She stood slowly, staring up at him in amazement, her chest heaving beneath her robe, and she bowed her head as he lowered her arm.
The memory dissipated, and as Bellatrix stood up, pulling away from the Pensieve, she began to laugh. Voldemort did not seem amused, and he slammed the wooden box shut and snapped,
"What's so funny?"
"I was… worshipping you," she noted. "Like some thirteen-year-old girl meeting her favourite singer."
"Favourite singer," Voldemort repeated blandly. He shook his head and scoffed, drumming his fingers on the large wooden box, and he said, "Plainly, some of what I had from you will need to be earned back."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Bellatrix said sarcastically. She got down onto her knees and clasped her hands together, and she giggled a little as she begged him, "Please, Master, won't you please humour me by looking in my direction?"
His cheeks went a little red, and he whispered, "Stop that."
She could tell she was walking on thin ice. She slowly stood, but she couldn't stop teasing him. The scene he'd shown her had been so over-the-top. She stroked at the wooden box and marveled,
"Getting that Dark Mark was almost like getting a kiss blown out to the audience by Orsino and the Bears."
It was the only wizarding band she could remember, the only music group whose name she could think of, but she knew intellectually that they were twenty years out of date. It didn't matter; she'd made her point. Voldemort glared up at her and stood quickly.
"Don't you dare mock me," he said through clenched teeth. "I am your master, and I showed you the day you made an oath to serve me. Wiped memory or not, the oath stands. You are my servant. Serve me or die. If you can't get through this recovery process properly, you will be eliminated."
Bellatrix felt fear then, real fear, for the first time since all of this madness had begun. She had no real memory of fear, she realised. She knew what it was, but she couldn't remember ever feeling it, not viscerally like this. He was backing her up against the wood-paneled wall in the dining room, and as she stared up at him, defiantly tipping up her chin, she told him,
"I want to go home. I live at Castle Lestrange with my husband Rodolphus."
"And who told you that information?" Voldemort demanded. He narrowed his eyes and asked her, "What's your House-Elf there called?"
Bellatrix's heart raced. She did not have an answer for that. She just shook her head a little, but Voldemort pressed on.
"What colour tile's in the bathroom in your suite there?"
Bellatrix's eyes began to water, and her veneer of bravery began to crack. She started to feel panic go through her, and then Voldemort went in for the kill. He leaned down and put his lips beside Bellatrix's ear, and he asked her,
"What does Stella Nott look like?"
"Stop." Bellatrix pushed at his chest a little, and he whispered,
"Go ahead and punch me. See what happens to you."
She cinched her fingers onto the chest of his robes, shutting her eyes and feeling very afraid. But when she opened her eyes, Voldemort surprised her by cupping her jaw in his hand and standing up a little. He towered over her and murmured down to her,
"I want my warrior back. I am keeping you here until you are safe. I expect you to behave in a manner befitting a Death Eater. My Death Eater. Do you understand?"
Bellatrix didn't answer. He lowered his face again, putting his lips beside her ear once more, and his breath was warm there as he whispered,
"Do you understand, Bellatrix?"
"Yes, Master," she mumbled back. She felt him kiss her then. He kissed her just below her ear, making her shiver, and he kissed her cheek, and he informed her in a quiet voice,
"You stared at me like a star-struck little girl because that's what you were. Right up until a few days ago. I miss that star-struck little girl, hmm?"
He kissed her forehead then, leaving his lips there for so long that Bellatrix found herself warm and breathless. She breathed in the scent of wood and leather on him, holding fast to the front of his robes until he finally pulled away and took his large wooden box off the table, wordlessly moving like a wraith as he left her panting against the wall of the dining room.
Author's Note: Awww, yeah. Finally starting to see some actually Bellamort stuff happening. Woo hoo. :} Thank you sooooo much to everyone who has decided to jump on board for this story, and a special thanks to those who have reviewed.