"Well, I'm finished. I don't want to get so sloshed that I Splinch."
"One more shot, Rabastan!" cried Rodolphus, and Bellatrix giggled like mad as Rodolphus splashed firewhisky into the three small glasses on the table.
"I feel sick," she complained, but Rabastan reminded her,
"We were explicitly instructed… hic! Oh, pardon me. We were told to give you a memory of being drunk. So here we are. Drunk. Very drunk. One more shot, then. Give it here, Dolph." He took his glass and raised it and cried, "To the Dark Lord, who had far too much… hic! Dignity to do this himself!"
"To the Dark Lord!" Bellatrix laughed, her voice a blur. She knocked back the firewhisky, which made her throat sear like mad, and she pinched her eyes shut as she forced the liquor down. This was her fifth shot of alcohol, and she was just now finding out what it meant to be properly drunk. Her head was swimming and she was vaguely nauseated where she sat in the lounge in Malfoy Manor. She still had to stay here, Voldemort said, because he wanted to work with her daily with the Pensieve.
Early today, he'd shown her two memories - one of a long Death Eater meeting where he'd explained personalities and backgrounds, and another where he'd taken her on a tour of Hogsmeade through a visit he'd taken there about a decade earlier. Then Voldemort had ordered Rodolphus and Rabastan to get Bellatrix 'moderately drunk' so that she knew what the sensation felt like, so that the concept was a memory and not an abstract.
There didn't seem to be anything moderate now, though. Bellatrix gave Rabastan a tight squeeze before he stumbled out of the room, and then she was left along with Rodolphus, and as the Wizarding Wireless on the mantle played a droning sort of song, he suggested,
"Dance with me, Bella?"
She giggled and shook her head. "I'll fall down. Also, I really don't remember anything about dancing."
"I'll show you, then," Rodolphus said, seeming dull around the edges right now. "Let's make a memory of dancing together, all right? I'll hold you up. Promise."
"All right." Bellatrix grinned and let him put his hand on her back, let him wrap his fingers around hers, and she was so dizzy that as they started to sway, she leaned her head onto his chest. He was tall, and she was very short, and so she just barely reached his sternum. She stood quite close to him as they swayed, and she informed him,
"Being drunk feels like floating."
"Mmm-hmm." She felt him kiss her hair, and they were quiet for a while. It was pleasant, Bellatrix thought. She just listened to the strings and the opera singer on the Wireless; it was some very old recording of a very old ballad, but it didn't matter. She shut her eyes and swayed, and she asked in a little murmur,
"Do you dance with Stella often?"
"Not really," Rodolphus admitted. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then he said softly, "I think that maybe I'm falling out of love with Stella."
Bellatrix frowned and raised her eyes to him, shaking her head. "She's so pretty. She seems so sweet."
"She is," Rodolphus nodded. He huffed a sigh and shrugged, and his eyes seemed glazed as they danced. His throat bobbed and he said, "Ever since… well, you're a little different now, Bellatrix, and I… I admit that rather like you like this. I really like you like this. I don't mean that I didn't like you before. That's not what I mean. I'm making a mess here, I know. I… I tried to be physical with Stella two days ago, and I could only think of you. And you're my wife, so…"
"Oh." Bellatrix felt her eyes flutter as she studied Rodolphus' kind-featured face. He seemed a little desperate then as his feet stopped moving and he whispered,
"Please, can I kiss you?"
"Oh." Bellatrix felt her eyes water, felt herself sway where she stood holding onto him, and then a voice from behind her asked rather firmly,
"Are we all through becoming moderately intoxicated?"
"My Lord!" Rodolphus staggered back a step or two and blinked rapidly, and Bellatrix turned on unsteady feet to see Voldemort glaring at her, walking slowly into the lounge. He flicked his wand at the Wireless to turn the volume down a tiny bit, and he shrugged lightly.
"Was I interrupting a ball?"
"I didn't remember dancing, Master," Bellatrix drawled, and Voldemort tipped his head. He scoffed and noted,
"Oh, no. You wouldn't remember it directly. I remember dancing with you. May I dance with you now, or are you too drunk?"
"I'm not too drunk," Bellatrix said, and Voldemort immediately drew her into a tight, formal dancing stance. She stared up at him in awe, and as his gaze bored into hers, he instructed Rodolphus,
"Go ahead and get home before you hurt yourself doing so, Rodolphus."
"Yes, Master. Goodnight, Bella," Rodolphus said hesitantly, and Bellatrix just swallowed hard.
"Night, Rodolphus," she said, still staring up at Voldemort. As Rodolphus left, Voldemort started to move, to dance, and Bellatrix struggled to keep up with his actual steps. He wasn't just swaying; he was moving his feet properly, and she had no idea what she was doing. She tried to follow him, but she was clumsy from inexperience and from drink, and after a few moments, he mercifully stopped his feet and lowered his arm, his hand still pressed between her shoulders. His breath was rather quick, though, and he told her,
"He is falling in love with you. I can see it in his head; he's falling in love with you."
Bellatrix shook her head, feeling like her words were thick in her mouth as she insisted,
"He has a mistress he loves."
"He adored her until your memory being wiped changed you a little, and now he realises that he's quite fond of his beautiful, young, intelligent wife," Voldemort said sharply. His eyes were glittering oddly, and his lips were pursed, and Bellatrix found herself drawling,
"You're cross with me."
"No." Voldemort shook his head, and Bellatrix guessed,
"You're cross with him, then."
"Well, I can scarcely blame him, but he's the one married to you." Voldemort licked his bottom lip and shut his eyes as he whispered, "I should… let the husband have his wife, probably."
"No." Bellatrix clutched at the front of his robes and drew herself up against him. She slid one hand down, into his robes, and Voldemort gasped a little as she went searching for the front of his trousers. He hissed a bit when she found the lump of his cock, when she started to play there through the material, and as he tipped his head back a little, she whispered, "I don't want him, Master; I want you."
"Bella. Stop; you're drunk." Voldemort gripped her shoulders, but Bellatrix knew precisely what she wanted of him. She was bleeding today; just this morning she'd begun her monthly cycle. But she'd felt him come inside of her, and she wanted to watch it happen with her own eyes. She wanted to play with him, to see him finish, to feel his come on her hands. She whispered up at him,
"There is a spell to make things slippery, but I can't remember. I'm sorry; I can't… I can't remember."
"It's Lubrico." Voldemort seemed just a little bit breathless, and as Bellatrix fumbled with his trousers, he reached in and helped her with the buttons, shoving open his flowing outer robe and yanking out his linen shirt. He seethed through his teeth and mumbled the lubrication charm as Bellatrix's hands worked with messy, unpractised strokes then, pulling at his shaft, marveling at the shape and form of him. Velvet on stone.
He helped her, showing her how to move her fist up and down with smooth motions, how to linger around his tip, how to swirl and squeeze there, and eventually he held her fist still and started to pump his hips, as if he were fucking her hand, and he leaned down to kiss her hard.
"I wanted you… to be mine. Not his. Mine." Voldemort sounded almost mournful against her mouth, and Bellatrix shrugged as she licked at his lip and informed him again,
"I'm not going to have sex with him. I don't want him. I want you."
"You're his wife," Voldemort reminded her, bucking his hips hard against her hand. "He is your husband."
She stared right into his eyes and hissed, "You are my master, or have you forgotten?"
"Mmph." His mouth dropped open at that, and his breath stopped for a second, and Bellatrix lowered her eyes to see him coming all over her fist, all over her dark skirts. His come was creamy and erratic in how it burst out. His cock was throbbing and twitching in her hand. She was dizzy and swaying from the firewhisky. It was all so much. Too much. She needed to sit down.
She stumbled back a few steps, a complete mess with come all over her, and she sat, bowing her head as she tried not to be sick from all the liquor she'd had, and after a few moments of her own heart racing and the music still playing and both their breath panting in the air, she heard Voldemort mutter spells to clean himself up, and then he came over and cleaned up her hand and her skirts. He crouched down in front of her, having put himself to rights, and he tucked his wand away. He reached up to hold her face in his hand, and he told her,
"I feel like a complete fool, you know. Being jealous of the husband of a witch who's less than half my age. I am the Dark Lord Voldemort. I ought not feel like a fool. I very much dislike that sensation."
"I'm sorry." Bellatrix covered his hand and dragged her thumb around, and he informed her,
"The problem is… you provide me with a great many other sensations, Bella, and I… I do like those. Not just the carnal ones like the sensations you just gave me now. Other sensations. You make me feel proud and impressed. You amuse me. I like to be around you. I am going to speak with your husband and make my intentions plain. I want there to be no confusion. I am your master and his, and I will not share."
Bellatrix curled up half her mouth and one shoulder and said in a blurry tone, "He has Stella. She'll make him happy."
"Don't worry about whether he's happy," Voldemort said sharply. "You worry about whether I am happy. I am going to stay the night in the burgundy suite with you. Let's go upstairs, Bellatrix; you and I are sharing a bed tonight."
Bellatrix's eyes seared badly all of a sudden, and she just whispered, "All right."
Author's Note: He doesn't want to play nice! Haha! Okay… now it's really time for a battle.
For those who like to follow along with the playlists for my stories, the short version of this story's playlist is as follows -
- Forget to Remember (Megadeth)
- Two Princes (Spin Doctors)
- Uptown Girl (Billy Joel)
- The Trapeze Swinger (Iron & Wine)
- My Sister's Tiny Hands (Andrew Bird)
- Rolling Sea (Eliza Carthy)