He'd called them both.

Both Rodolphus and Bellatrix. This must be a very big meeting, Bellatrix thought. Something important must have happened. She bundled up, for it was freezing outside today, but when Rodolphus asked,

"Ready?" she had a pit in her stomach and confessed,

"Something's wrong. Something's… not right."

Rodolphus scowled and shook his head. "It's probably that Auror. McKinnon. Got away last week. He's probably cross about that."

"No." Bellatrix could sense that something else was wrong. She wasn't sure how; she just could. She walked quickly with Rodolphus to Disapparate from their open sitting room, and when they came to outside Malfoy Manor, they were alone. Normally, if they were in a large group that had been Summoned, people would be popping into appearance all round them. Now Rodolphus looked concerned, too, and he chewed his lip a little as they pushed through the gate of Malfoy Manor and up through the gardens. When they reached the front door, it swung open slowly, and Lord Voldemort was already standing there waiting for them.

Bellatrix froze. Were they in trouble? Was he going to do something to them? She gulped hard and let her feet skitter to a stop on the icy ground, but Rodolphus yanked on her arm and cried out,

"Master!"

"Bella, get in here. Now. Bring your husband," said Voldemort lazily, and Bellatrix felt a spike of fear run her straight through. What had she done? The week before, he'd hovered over her, kissed her, had her caress him. What had changed?

Then she realised what had changed, as they neared his office. She'd gotten too close that night. He'd had dinner with her. He'd let her touch him naked. He'd kissed her as she came, as he came. It had been too close, too intimate. He was going to punish both of them, wasn't he? Wasn't he?

They walked into his office, Bellatrix shaking like a leaf, and Voldemort shut the door behind Rodolphus. He used wandless magic to pull out of one of the chairs from near his desk to the centre of the room, its legs dragging on the wooden floor, and he gestured to it and barked,

"Bella, sit."

Bellatrix stared up at Voldemort, her eyes wide, and she stumbled slowly toward the chair. She sat down and glanced at her husband, who seemed abjectly terrified. Voldemort flicked his wand toward Bellatrix and whispered,

"Gaudens."

What? That spell? Bellatrix buckled over, shocked and humiliated that he'd made her climax right there in front of both her husband and her master at the same time. She panted and moaned a little, and Voldemort smirked as he laughed a bit. He teased Rodolphus,

"Bet you don't hear her moan that often. Perhaps more these days, now that she's got more to imagine."

"My Lord." Rodolphus bowed his head, but Voldemort forced it back up and snapped,

"Oh, no. You're going to watch. Diffindo."

Bellatrix gasped in shock then as he sliced down her arm from her shoulder, moving very slowly, deliberately, delicately. She squirmed in pain, watching as the sleeve of her black velvet dress gave out and split, as blood bubbled to the surface of her flesh and then ran down in streams, getting on the brown leather of the chair.

"Bellatrix," Rodolphus exclaimed, sounding concerned, but Voldemort rolled his eyes and assured him,

"She likes it. Don't you? Don't you, Bella?"

"Yes, Master." She shut her eyes and focused on the feel on the pain, on the dizzying way he was slicing her skin, and suddenly she was coming again. He'd done that to her, she knew. He'd inflicted another magical climax on her. Then he did it again, and this time it was so powerful that she squirmed and writhed and cried out, tipping her head back and moaning like an utter whore.

"Getting blood all over my chair," said Voldemort with feigned exasperation. "Stand up, Bella. Come here, sweet creature."

Bellatrix rose very slowly and stumbled on her feet, her arm dripping blood, and Voldemort tipped his head, a sickly sort of smile painted on his face. He used nonverbal spells to heal up her arm for her, her incantations more powerful than Dittany. He Siphoned up the mess she'd left on his chair. He stitched up her dress.

And then he bent and kissed her hard, right there in front of Rodolphus, and he turned his face and he said,

"You are both mine in every conceivable way. Both of you belong entirely to me. Don't you, Rodolphus?"

"Y-Yes, Master." Rodolphus was completely wide-eyed then, with fear and betrayal and something else that Bellatrix couldn't read. Voldemort tipped his head and said,

"If you ever got jealous, even for a moment, Rodolphus, of the fact that your wife belongs entirely to me, I would torture you until your lungs gave out, and then I'd leave you as rat food in a dungeon. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Master," Rodolphus nodded vigorously. Bellatrix stared up at Voldemort, who was holding her jaw in his hand, and when he turned his gaze back down on her, he stroked at her skin and whispered,

"I told you I'd cut you and let you bleed. I keep my promises, Bella. Go home. Fuck your husband. Dismissed."

"Been called to dinner," Bellatrix said carefully two days later. "Got an owl this afternoon. There was no equivocation."

"No, I'm sure there wasn't." Rodolphus had seemed numb ever since what he'd witnessed in Voldemort's office. He just nodded and whispered, "I'll see you when I see you, then."

"Bye." Bellatrix turned to go, and once she reached Malfoy Manor, she was shown to the dining room by Dobby. She hung up her travelling cloak and gloves and sat, for Voldemort had not yet arrived. After about fifteen minutes of waiting, Bellatrix grew extremely anxious and wondered whether she'd had the time wrong. But then the door opened, and she flew to her feet, and in walked her lord and master, looking utterly resplendent in more formal black robes.

"Sit," he murmured, and Bellatrix did. He sat at the head of the table, and when their wine glasses filled, he asked her pointedly,

"Did it feel good for you?"

Bellatrix was so taken aback by his sudden, remarkable question that she wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about. She cleared her throat and asked,

"The bleeding? In your office? With Rodolphus?"
"No, silly girl." He stared at her, his gaze like ice. "Last week in my bed."

"Oh." Her eyes burned all of a sudden, and she nodded solemnly. "It all feels good, but that felt… yes, Master. It felt good."

"I enjoyed being touched… by you." He said the words clinically as their beetroot salads appeared. Bellatrix ate hers in silence, and when the main course of chicken and potato appeared, she still said nothing. But Voldemort eventually informed her,

"I enjoyed the nearness to you. I am not sure why and I am not sure that I care… erm… to know why."

"Being near to you is the only thing that matters in my life, Master," Bellatrix said very honestly then, and he blinked a few times as he set down his knife and fork. He swigged down some more wine, and Bellatrix realised this was his third - fourth? - glass of red elf-made wine. He'd been chugging it like water since she'd arrived. He seemed mildly tipsy now as their dessert cups of chocolate mousse appeared. Bellatrix spooned mousse into her mouth, and she thought about what she did know of Lord Voldemort. He had been born a Half-Blood, Tom Riddle. Everyone knew that. He had been raised in an orphanage by Muggles. Everyone knew that. He had worked at Borgin at Burkes and then had gone to the Continent to train in Dark Magic. And she knew what he'd done since.

She was in love with him, she thought, as much as a woman could possibly love a man. Or, at least, she was obsessed with him. Was it the same thing? Was her own sycophantic devotion love? Did she qualify? Was she good enough to love him?

"You're making me tired," he said at last, and when she raised her eyes in surprise, Voldemort scoffed a little laugh and shook his head, smirking.

"Your mind is exhausting."

She felt her cheeks go very warm then, and she whispered carefully, "I'm so sorry."

He flicked his wand toward the Wireless in the corner, and a maudlin sort of two step started playing on whining strings. Voldemort stood very confidently and strode over to where Bellatrix sat, though she could tell for certain now that he'd been drinking. She gazed up at him as he held out a hand, feeling confused, until she realised what he was doing. Dancing. He wanted to dance with her.

He wanted to dance with her? Bellatrix took his hand and rose, and when she walked with him to an empty part of the dining room floor and let him very smoothly draw them into a dancing stance, he demanded of her,

"Who else would it be? You think I'm going to dance at random weddings with random Mulciber and Avery girls? Hmm? Bellatrix, you…"

He dragged his thumb over hers and then brought her knuckles to his lips for a moment before starting to slowly dance again. He shook his head and looked almost helpless as he pronounced,

"You are different."

"I am?" Bellatrix shrugged. "Perhaps only in how devoted I am to you."

"It is more than that, I'm afraid. I wish it were so simple as that." Voldemort continued moving, and then the song ended and his steps stopped. Then they were just standing there, holding one another, but he didn't let go. He squeezed at her hand and tightened his fingers at her back, and he murmured,

"I do not wish to move."

"Then don't move," Bellatrix shrugged, "for you must always do precisely as you please."

He took her face in his hands then, staring down at her, and she was lost in him all of a sudden. He'd cut her open in front of her husband just to take ownership of her. And she'd liked it; he'd been right about that. He'd sliced her open and made her bleed and made her come in a chair just so he could show his dominance. But now he was holding her face and breathing through parted lips, and his dark eyes flashed strangely as he whispered,

"Stay."

Bellatrix furrowed her brows. "Master, I'd never leave -"

"Stay the night," he mumbled then, and when he bent to brush his lips against hers, his breath was warm on her mouth. "Stay and touch me."

"Yes." She planted her hands on his chest, squeezing a little, and she reached up to snare her fingers into his greying hair. She squeezed a little there, too, and he liked it. He moaned, pulling her closer by the small of her back, and he put his lips beside her ear as he demanded again,

"Stay and touch me."

"Yes, Master." She drank in his deep kiss then, tasting chocolate mousse and wine on him, and she heard the click of the Wireless as he shut it off.

Author's Note: I hate begging for reviews (like, it's my least favorite thing), but I can see that hundreds of people are reading this (yay!) with essentially no feedback (boo!). Can I ask you a huge favor? Since this story isn't going to go on for tooooo much longer, if you're reading and enjoying it, would you mind taking a quick moment and just letting me know what you've thought so far? I'd really appreciate it. Thank you so very much.