Bellatrix sat in the lounge of Malfoy Manor, flipping slowly through the Hogwarts yearbook that she'd been sent by Rodolphus. It would give her some idea of what their final year at school had been like, he'd said. Bellatrix was trying to memorise names and faces. She was trying to memorise ideas like the fact that the Slytherins had lived in the dungeons, where the Potions classroom had been.

Rodolphus had played Beater for the Slytherin Quidditch team, she could see from the team photograph. She watched him playfully swing his bat as a Bludger moved through the photograph, and the other players laughed a little. There was a blonde girl, a Chaser, who gave Rodolphus a particularly keen smile in that picture. Bellatrix turned the page to see a photograph of some Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students working together in third-year Herbology. She didn't really much care about that. But then on the opposite side of the page, there was an image that made her freeze. She read the caption beneath four times over.

Seventh-year Slytherin students Bellatrix Black and Stella Nott share a laugh in the library.

Bellatrix watched the moving photograph as she, wearing Slytherin robes, giggled along with the pretty blonde Chaser girl from the Quidditch photograph. Stella Nott. Rodolphus' mistress. The girl he really loved. It seemed Bellatrix was quite friendly with Stella. In the photograph, the girls seemed to be laughing about something on the page of a book between them, and the laughter seemed genuine.

Rodolphus had said that Bellatrix had known about him and Stella even in school. Obviously, then, Bellatrix had known that she was betrothed, but she and Rodolphus had always been far more like friends and less like lovers. She'd always been all right with what he had with Stella. Was that because she was so preoccupied with Lord Voldemort? She'd seen her own face in memories. Her attentions had been wholly focused on one man, and that man was not Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Bella?"

She stood and turned around at the sound of Rodolphus' voice. There was another wizard with him, a shorter and far more plump man with a round, kind-looking face whose features closely mirrored his brother's.

"Rabastan?" Bellatrix guessed, and the shorter wizard nodded and smiled.

"Hi, there, Bells."

Bells. He had a nickname for her. Her eyes burned a little at that, and she felt compelled to embrace him. But she just walked toward the brothers, and Rodolphus said,

"We were here for a meeting with the Dark Lord, to discuss what happened up in Scotland. Mulciber was here, but he left. I thought I'd take a moment to… well, to re-introduce you two."

Bellatrix smiled a little at Rabastan and said, "I'm told we like to play Gobstones. I confess that I can't really remember the rules."

"Well, I'll just have to beat you at the game for a while until you're back in your stride," Rabastan winked. "You'll be fine, Bells. You won't remember everything the way it was, but you'll make new memories, eh? And they'll be even better than the old ones. Who needs the first nineteen years, anyway?"

Bellatrix laughed a little and tipped her head, narrowing her eyes. "I like you, Rabastan Lestrange."

Rabastan smirked and looked up at his younger brother. "She's a bit rougher, isn't she? Is it true you punched him?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "He walked into my room and kissed me without asking."

"Well. You gave him what-for, then, didn't you? Glad someone had the gumption to give him a good punch. Well done, Bells." Rabastan laughed, and Bellatrix felt very cheery all of a sudden. Then, in the doorway behind the brothers, Lord Voldemort appeared, and Bellatrix's laughter dissolved a bit. She nodded to show some respect, and Rodolphus and Rabastan turned round when they saw her go serious. They bowed deeply, and Voldemort said,

"Bellatrix, I should like to work with you upstairs with the Pensieve when you're ready. I'll be in your suite. Good evening, gentlemen."

"Master." Rabastan bowed again as Voldemort left, his robes snapping as he whirled and stomped away, and Bellatrix rolled her eyes and whispered,

"Does he ever smile?"

Rabastan gave Rodolphus a meaningful look, and then he admitted,

"I've only ever seen him laugh around you, Bells. Not sure anyone else makes him smile."

"Oh." She gulped. She glanced toward the yearbook on the low table, and she said to Rodolphus, "I saw a photograph of Stella and me. We were laughing together. Are we friends?"

"Yes," Rodolphus nodded. "Yes. Sometimes she comes for dinner. The four of us have dinner - you and Rabastan and Stella and I. You never minded her being… you know, mine. You were mine, too. That sounds selfish, but it never felt selfish."

Rabastan shifted on his feet a bit awkwardly. He liked boys, Rodolphus had said. Did Rabastan have anyone of his own? Behaviour like that was deeply frowned upon in a Pureblood community that so relished procreation. Bellatrix sighed and said to Rodolphus,

"I think you and Rabastan and I will be great friends. And if Stella makes you happy, then that makes me happy. And if she and I get along, all the better."

"We should go," Rabastan said carefully. "The Dark Lord wants you. Come home soon, all right, Bells? Castle Lestrange isn't the same without you."

Voldemort paced in the sitting room of Bellatrix's suite, wondering if he should show her the memory he'd drawn out of his mind. He hadn't intended on showing her this level of detail. He'd intended on leaving it be, on letting her watch her wedding from a distance, from a third-person perspective. But he'd finally drummed up the courage to show her the other side of what she did remember.

One of the only memories she had left was dancing with him at her wedding to Rodolphus. And she'd been right. The way they'd been looking at one another had been rather obvious, once Voldemort had viewed it through the Pensieve. Now he would show her the dance from his perspective, the way he specifically remembered it happening, because that had been the night that she'd gone from being a gangly, if ruthless, schoolgirl to a grown witch in his eyes.

"Hello."

He looked up to see Bellatrix standing in the doorway, dressing black crushed velvet and looking pretty enough that he had to glance away. He cleared his throat and gestured to the Pensieve that he'd put on the low table.

"I have a memory… something to show you," he said sharply. He sat and gestured for her to do the same. She seemed confused by his brusque tone and his rapid blinking, but he just ordered her, "Let's go."

She obeyed, following him headfirst into the Pensieve. They drifted down into the inky, icy, watery gas, and then suddenly they were standing before a dancing couple. Bellatrix glanced up at Voldemort, seeming to understand suddenly why he'd brought her here. He was filling in the gaps.

"My dress was marvelous," she said softly, circling around herself as she and Voldemort's shadows arranged themselves into a tight stance. She seemed to be memorising every swoop of satin, ever bit of silk and lace, every bead. It was a stunning gown, Voldemort had to admit. She eyed the way her curls had been tamed into a bun from which a lacy veil flowed, the way her face was carefully painted.

"You looked pretty," Voldemort told her quietly, folding his hands before him. "Listen to what I tell you."

She stood on the opposite side from him of the dancing couple, and the shadows of Voldemort and Bellatrix began to sway. Bellatrix was staring up at him as though he were everything, as though he were miraculous, and he was smiling back down a bit at her.

"Not used to seeing you in white. It's blinding," he joked, and she laughed a little. She shook her head and promised,

"It's only this once, Master. Next week I'll be training again for you. I told Rodolphus there's to be no honeymoon. There's no time. Not with a war on."

"Well. I admire your dedication," Voldemort told her gently. They danced in silence for a few moments, and he informed her tightly, "He'll take a mistress."

"He's already got one," Bellatrix shrugged. "Stella. I don't mind."

"And you?" Voldemort asked. "Won't you need something else, if he's not focused on you?"

"Married Pureblood witches aren't exactly allowed to go running about with paramours, are they?" Bellatrix asked in a low, almost seductive voice. Her eyes seemed heavy then, and their dancing slowed a little, until Voldemort smirked down at her and reminded her,

"You've got a war to fight, little one, haven't you? That'll be your something else."

Bellatrix gnawed her lip and nodded quickly. "Y-Yes, Master. Of course. Thank you so much for coming to the wedding. It means everything to have you here. Everything."

"Congratulations, Bella," he said, and he watched his own thumb stroke over her hand. The dance ended, and she curtsied, and he bowed, and as she scurried away, he stood there watching her go, and then he shook his head a little and let himself get swept into conversation with a few of his Death Eaters.

Voldemort gently pulled out of the Pensieve, and he felt Bellatrix coming with him, until they were both extracted from the silvery fluid cloud and were staring at one another across the little table. Bellatrix cleared her throat softly and noted,

"Whatever I felt toward you before I lost my memory, it was more than just the obsession of a servant."

"Perhaps," Voldemort nodded. "I may not have noticed. It is odd, and different, seeing memories in a reflective sense like this."

"Hmm." Bellatrix shook her head and shrugged. "Whatever I felt was not reciprocated."

"Even if it was, it would seem as though I was not being exceptionally perceptive," Voldemort pointed out. "I see now what you mean, about the eyes. You're right. I looked at you… well, in a way I do not suppose I looked anyone else."

Bellatrix scoffed. "And?"

"And what?" Voldemort clipped. Bellatrix raised her eyes.

"This doesn't really help me rebuild my memory," she snapped at him. "Rodolphus gave me a Hogwarts yearbook earlier. That helped. I met Rabastan. That helped. All this does is confuse me. Now I just feel very confused. Who were you to me?"

"Your master," he said in the blandest tone he could manage, but Bellatrix sighed and shook her head,

"It seems as though you were everything," she whispered. "Far more than Orsino and the Bears. And more than a master. So what was I to you? Just another servant? I worshipped you whilst you walked on me? Is that it?"

"I do not think I realised the level of admiration and attraction I felt toward you." Voldemort adjusted the way he was sitting, for a deep discomfort had come over him. He straightened his back and informed her, "I have long cherished your intelligence and bravery, your wit and charm, and I have long found you to be beautiful. But I have also, as I've told you, long regarded witches as a terrible distraction from my aims, and so I have always put out of mind any combination of attractions that might lead to… to…"

"I understand." Bellatrix stood slowly and went over to stare out the window. She liked to do that, Voldemort thought. She liked to stare out windows. He huffed and stood, moving over toward her, and he informed her,

"I showed you the dance because it is one of the few things you still remembered. I should like to believe there is a reason why that memory clung on so desperately."

"Have we ever kissed?" Bellatrx asked softly, and Voldemort tried not to scoff at her. He shook his head and murmured,

"No. We have not."

She raised her eyes to him and informed him rather angrily, "That bitch Pinky Tarlington - stupid name, by the way - took my memories of just about everything. Most of it, I find I do not mind so badly. I don't remember my childhood. Oh, well. Who really wants to remember their childhood? I don't remember going to school. That probably wasn't so great, either. But I bet someone's kissed me properly, deeply, on the mouth. I know what it is. I know a kiss is. But I have no memory of one."

"I'll let Rodolphus show you," Voldemort said, feeling his stomach twist and his heart speed up. Why did he want to do what she was suggesting so badly? She crossed her arms and reminded him,

"He's in love with Stella Nott. If there's anyone he wants to kiss on the mouth, it's her. I just watched you dance with me. You're my master. Yes. But I saw your eyes. And I saw my eyes. And something tells me that you'd be willing to set aside the damnable distraction that I am as a witch for just one moment to give me a memory of being kissed."

"Bellatrix…" He looked away, and she whispered,

"Please."

He sighed, shaking his head, but then he finally realised she deserved it, and he decided to act quickly. He took her face in both of his hands, and he stared down at her for a half a second. Her deep brown eyes were wide - with anticipation, with fear? Her full lips parted a little, and Voldemort leaned down and brushed his mouth against hers. He quickly deepened the kiss, licking at her bottom lip and urging her mouth open.

She squealed a little, her tiny hands flying to the front of his robes and holding fast. He slid his tongue between her teeth and dragged it over the roof of her mouth, feeling her shiver, and he instinctively wrapped one arm around her to pull her close. She tasted good. She felt good. He wanted more. He wanted to keep kissing her, so he knew he had to stop. He broke the kiss off, feeling heat in his ears as he gently planted one final kiss on her lips and stood up. He tried not to pant as he dragged the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip.

He wordlessly went over to the low table where the Pensieve was and packed it up into the heavy wooden carrying box. He said in a tight voice to Bellatrix,

"To avoid damaging this, I'm going to store it here. I'll keep the key. We'll use a memory next time that's more helpful to restoring your work as a Death Eater."

He locked up the wooden box and left it on the low table, tucking the key away in his robes. He started to leave, but when he glanced over his shoulder, Bellatrix was staring at him from the window, open-mouthed and visibly breathless, and she mumbled,

"Thank you, My Lord."

He just nodded crisply, once, and left the room.

Author's Note: What other things can he… help her make new memories of doing…? Mwah hahahaha. Raise your hand if this is the first time you actually like the Lestrange brothers? Haha! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.