Bellatrix pushed her empty bowl of white bean soup away from her, feeling much too full, and she rose from where she'd been eating dinner alone. She wondered whether Rodolphus was eating dinner with Stella right now, whether Rabastan was eating with them. She walked slowly out of the dining room and made her way down the corridor, past the portraits on the walls, and eventually, she passed Abraxas Malfoy.
"Hullo, Mr Malfoy," she said quietly. He just nodded and smiled rather awkwardly. The Malfoys kept to themselves; the entire upper level of the manor was theirs. They were terrified of Voldemort, Bellatrix knew, and would never question him using their home as a headquarters. They were honoured by his presence here. But Bellatrix was so closely associated with Voldemort that she reckoned she scared them a little, too. She hardly ever saw Mrs Malfoy, who was so empty-skulled that it didn't matter, anyway.
When Bellatrix opened the door to the burgundy suite, she paused, for Lord Voldemort was sitting on the sofa, the Pensieve in front of him, waiting for her. She shut the door softly behind her and stepped inside, and she said in a curt but playful sort of voice,
"I wish I'd known you were here, My Lord; I would have invited you to dinner."
"I ate in my office," he said simply, and she nodded. She sat opposite him, sinking into the armchair, and adjusted her black lace skirt around her boots as she asked,
"What do you wish to show me tonight?"
He hesitated, dragging the pad of his finger along the rim of the Pensieve, and then he said,
"I'm going to show you a memory from… long before your time. A memory from nineteen forty-three. The autumn of my seventh year at Hogwarts. I was Tom Riddle then. I was Head Boy."
Bellatrix frowned a little, shaking her head, and she cleared her throat. "May I ask why you wish for me to see something from that time? Not that I'm not interested. I am."
Voldemort licked at his bottom lip a little, and he raised his eyes to her. "Your father and I… Abraxas Malfoy, Yaxley, Avery, Mulciber, Nott. Rudy Lestrange, before he died. None of us were anything like you when we were teenagers. I want you to see what blithering idiots we were."
Bellatrix grinned. "Why?"
"So you realise what a bloody fantastic soldier you are, with or without your memories," Voldemort said seriously, and Bellatrix's smile faded a little. Voldemort dragged his fingers through his hair, which had little threads of grey in it, and he said solemnly, "I knew what I wanted, at least, but the rest of them were focused on girls and Quidditch and failing exams. We were a year younger than you are now. And here you are, casting a Cruciatus Curse on Albus Dumbledore without a second thought."
"I was trying to create a situation where you could execute him," Bellatrix said, almost defensively, and Voldemort raised his eyebrows.
"You don't have to impress me any more than you've already done. Let's go into the Pensieve. I've already put a carefully extracted memory inside." He reached for her hand and bent down, and Bellatrix followed him. They touched their faces to the gaseous, watery silver in the basin, and then Bellatrix felt herself falling.
When she landed, Voldemort caught her and helped her stand, and she looked around the washed-out scene surrounding her. It was a heavy sort of space, a room with dark-coloured furniture and walls draped with tapestries. There was an entire wall of dark glass, and suddenly Bellatrix realised where she was. She nodded.
"This is the Slytherin Common Room."
"It's been described to you, but you don't remember it?" Voldemort guessed. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes.
"I walked through her very quickly, just once, in a memory with Rodolphus. I imagine I spent a good deal of time in here in reality."
"That's me. That boy just there." Voldemort gestured to a remarkably handsome, black-haired young man sitting in a chair, wearing a school uniform. He was studying his fingernails, looking very bored, and he had a Head Boy badge on his black robe. His hair had been combed just so with pomade in it, and he looked neat and tidy. His face was angular and smooth, far more youthful than Voldemort appeared now, but it was obviously the same man. Bellatrix dashed up to him, crouching before him, knowing he could neither see nor hear her.
Tom Riddle, the boy in the chair, sighed and dragged his fingernails over the arm of the suede chair, and he seemed impatient, like he was waiting for someone. Bellatrix stared into his dark eyes, studied his full lips, and from behind her, she heard Voldemort admit almost nervously,
"I was a lot better looking twenty-seven years ago."
"Just younger. You're perfectly fine now." She smiled over her shoulder at him and stood slowly, for a crowd of Slytherin boys were coming into the common room. One Bellatrix recognised at once - the icy blond boy who would grow to be Abraxas Malfoy. Beside him was a gangly, tall young man who strongly resembled Rodolphus, followed by a stout, shorter boy and a pair who were quietly discussing something.
"Who are they?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort huffed a breath as he said,
"That one that looks like your husband? That's your father-in-law. Rudy Lestrange. He died a few months before your wedding; he and his wife contracted a tropical plague on holiday in Africa."
"That's too bad." Bellatrix stood beside Rudy Lestrange, seeing much of Rodolphus in him. She smirked a little as she studied the faces of the two chatting boys, and she nodded.
"Nott and Avery."
"Yes." Voldemort gave a crisp nod, and then he gestured to the shorter boy. "That's your father."
"Oh." Bellatrix walked slowly towards him, and then she nodded. "Narcissa resembles him more; I look like our mum, I think."
"Quite so," Voldemort said. The boys all settled into chairs and onto sofas, and Abraxas Malfoy said,
"Sorry for the delay, Tom. If we're to beat Gryffindor on Saturday, we have to be prepared. I kept Quidditch practise long."
"It's fine," Tom Riddle said, a bit sharply. He'd been kept waiting, Bellatrix could tell, and he did not like to wait. Cygnus Black piped up,
"It'll be my first match playing Seeker, since Mulciber's still got that nasty stomach illness."
"Mulciber will be fine by Saturday, Cygnus; you were just filling in for practise," Abraxas said, rolling his eyes. Bellatrix laughed a little, and Voldemort reminded her,
"He was younger, you know."
"Yes." Bellatrix found it rather amusing that her father had been such a hanger-on, that he'd been picked on by the boys that would grow to become Voldemort's Death Eaters.
"I got a letter from my father," Avery said proudly. "I'm to have a position in the Floo Network Authority beginning in July."
"That's fine news, Avery!" Cygnus exclaimed. "Congratulations."
"You'll write to me often," Tom said, and it wasn't a question. "If you hear anything interesting, see anything. You'll send me reports, just like anyone else leaving school."
"Of course, Tom," Avery nodded, looking nervous. Then he glanced at Nott, who asked carefully,
"D'you not want a position at the Ministry for yourself, Tom?"
"No." Tom shook his head, dragging his fingernails over the arm of the chair again. "No. The Ministry's a dead end for me; I'll get lost in the bureaucracy. I don't want to be Minister, anyway; I intend on being much more than that."
"By working at Borgin at Burkes?" asked Lestrange in a low voice, and Tom narrowed his eyes as a heavy silence came over the space. The other boys seemed very, very nervous until Tom tipped his head and told Rudy Lestrange,
"I mean to use the job at Borgin and Burkes to forge connections with wealthy, powerful people. To obtain important and useful objects. And when the time is right, I will leave on a journey to acquire the skills and knowledge necessary to ascend properly. Or perhaps I should do as you're doing, Rudy, and work as a clerk for the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."
Lestrange shook his head, lowered his eyes, and murmured,
"I was rude. I apologise."
"Apology accepted," Tom said lightly. "I'm starved. Let's all go eat some dinner, shall we?"
He stood then, and the others waited to rise until he'd done so. He led the pack of boys out of the common room, and once they'd gone, the memory began to dissolve around Bellatrix like smoke. She pulled herself backward and up, and soon she was drawing her head up from the Pensieve and staring at Voldemort across the little table. His face was very serious, as though he were waiting for her reaction. Bellatrix chomped on her lip and said,
"You were very impressive, even then. Small wonder you've spent your life with followers; you're obviously a born leader."
He just blinked, and Bellatrix continued a little anxiously,
"My father was rather pathetic, I must say. And Rudy Lestrange was insolent."
"Rather like you," Voldemort teased, and Bellatrix couldn't help smiling a bit. She stood and walked over to him, standing between his knees, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as she said quietly,
"You look past my insolence a little more readily than the others', though, don't you? Why is that?"
"Because I want into your knickers," Voldemort deadpanned, and Bellatrix giggled like mad. On instinct, she hiked her skirt up a bit and put a leg on either side of him, sinking down until she was straddling him where he sat on the sofa. She was still bleeding, though it was all very well contained with spells. She kept her arms around Voldemort's neck as he settled back against the sofa, his lips parting a little, and he asked her in a whisper,
"I'll bet you wish I looked like that handsome boy your age, hm?"
"No." Bellatrix shook her head. "I was very impressed by him, but I like you like this. Master."
Voldemort reached up to squeeze at her breast a little, and Bellatrix moaned quietly. She touched her forehead to his, and he tipped his head until his lips brushed hers. Bellatrix mumbled darkly,
"Those boys were so scared of you, Master. Now they're grown men, and they're still so frightened."
"And you? Are you frightened of me?" he demanded, his hands sliding down over her waist and squeezing at her backside. He dragged her against his erection, and Bellatrix gasped a little. She shrugged helplessly.
"Frightened is the wrong word," she insisted. "I am in awe of you. I am terribly attracted to you. I promise I'll serve you. But I'm probably not as terrified as you mean for me to be."
"I like you brave," he told her, squeezing hard at her hips. She tipped her head back until he said in a steely, commanding sort of voice, "Kiss me, Bellatrix."
"Yes, Master." She did as he said, crashing her mouth down against his and grinding her hips against the hard lump in his trousers. She slid her tongue between his teeth, and his fingers cinched tightly against her thighs.
Suddenly Bellatrix heard the door to the suite open and shut behind her, and she gasped as she wrenched her face away from Voldemort's.
"Oh. Oh, I'm… I beg your pardon, My Lord," Bellatrix heard Rodolphus say as she scrambled off of Voldemort's lap. She stumbled as she tried to stand, and Voldemort reached out a hand to help steady her. He cleared his throat angrily and snarled at Rodolphus,
"Do you not know how to knock on a door, Rodolphus?"
Rodolphus' boyish face, which so resembled the father's Bellatrix had just seen in the memory, was as red as a strawberry as he stared at his shoes. He looked like he was going to cry as he set down a leather suitcase and mumbled,
"I'm so sorry. I… erm… Bella, I thought you might want some different clothes since the weather's getting so much warmer. I packed up some… erm…"
"Different clothes," Bellatrix huffed, and Rodolphus nodded silently. He shut his eyes and whispered helplessly,
"I'm so sorry."
"If there's nothing else, you are dismissed," Voldemort said tightly from where he sat on the sofa, very obviously arranged to conceal his erection. Rodolphus nodded quickly, flicking his eyes up apologetically to Bellatrix, and he mumbled,
"Send me an owl if there's anything else you need, and I'll… I'll have Rabastan bring it over. I'm so sorry. Goodnight."
Rodolphus whirled on his foot and hurried out of the suite, closing the door loudly behind him, and Bellatrix touched shaking fingers to her forehead as she took a long breath. She picked up the leather suitcase from the ground and moved silently toward the bedroom with it.
"Bella," said Voldemort's voice from behind her, and she stared at him over her shoulder. He licked at his bottom lip and shrugged lightly.
"I think I'll stay here tonight."
She curled up half her mouth and nodded. "Of course, Master."
Author's Note: Damn you, Rodolphus! But you gotta feel kind of bad for him, too, right? Thank you so very much to everyone reading, and a huge shout-out to those who have reviewed. The feedback means so much. :)