AN:// Hello again! Here is chapter 9 which is a bit longer than the others, I think. I'm not sure if I'm happy with it but I hope you all will be. Feedback appreciated as always, but most importantly, enjoy! x

Chapter 9

The next day, Voldemort was pacing restlessly up and down the upstairs room of Bellatrix's pie shop. Bellatrix herself was lounging in a moth-eaten chair she had managed to salvage from a Muggle household. "It's not spectacular but it'll do the job," she commented, stroking the armrest absent-mindedly. "And I must say it was entertaining acquiring it…those Muggles didn't know what had hit them," she smirked. She glanced at the still-pacing Voldemort and sighed at his lack of responsiveness.

Suddenly he spoke, causing Bellatrix to jump slightly. It was rare that he spoke to her, despite her many fruitless attempts at conversation.

"Why doesn't Wormtail come?" he spat. "He said he'd see me before the end of the week!"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. He was becoming obsessed with Wormtail's supposed visit.

"Who says the week's out? It's only Tuesday," she said bemusedly, but her reassurances seemed only to anger him further. He glared at her furiously before throwing his wand onto the floor in agitation.

Bellatrix stood up slowly and cautiously rested a hand on Voldemort's shoulder. She was pleasantly surprised when he let her keep it there. Taking this as a positive sign, she felt the courage to continue. "Calm down, my Lord. There's no need to stress yourself," she almost whispered.

Still, he made no reaction and Bellatrix wondered if he was even listening. Not to be dispirited, however, she leaned closer towards him and maintained her softly spoken speech. "What's the hurry for? Planning something's the best part!" she grinned wickedly. "Once it's done, it's over, so you might as well enjoy something for as long as you can." Her eyes slid over to the dusty chair, and had Voldemort been interested, he might have pondered just how long its previous owners had to suffer for it.

"Just wait…" she murmured.

The proximity of her breath in his ear was beginning to irritate Voldemort and he broke free of her gentle grip to wander towards the window.

He gazed unseeingly out of the murky glass and froze suddenly when a flash of rich red alerted his gaze. Horace Slughorn was ambling steadily towards the shop, the elf Dobby in tow.

Bellatrix peered over his shoulder and raised one eyebrow. "Well, this is a surprise…"

Voldemort's heart was beating excitedly in his chest. "Keep the vermin downstairs," he hissed.

Bellatrix hurried downstairs, greeting Horace Slughorn with a rather strained smile.

"Ah, hello Mrs….?" Slughorn prompted, looking at Bellatrix with a hint of distaste.

"Lestrange," she replied curtly before directing her gaze to the downtrodden elf cowering away from his master.

"Ooh" she cooed, mock sympathy etched on her face. "You wouldn't mind if I offered it a nice pie would you?"

Slughorn snorted. "Do whatever you want, miss. I'm here to see Mr Voldemort."

"Lord Voldemort is right upstairs." Bellatrix said, placing particular emphasis on the title. "Come on then," she gestured to the elf, leading him through to the shop. "Hope your teeth are strong!" she warned as she bustled about the kitchen. "Take a seat!"

Slughorn creaked up the stairs and knocked smartly on the door to Voldemort's supposed 'establishment'.

"Come in." Voldemort barked, tucking his wand into his robe pocket.

"Mr Voldemort," stated Slughorn as greeting, puffing out his broad chest self-importantly.

"Hello Mr Slughorn," replied Voldemort, making himself sound pleasantly surprised.

"Oh, call me Horace m'boy. Now, I'm here for my five galleons back if you don't mind!" he said, shrugging off his rich plum travelling cloak and resting his generous backside on an old stool that groaned ominously under his weight.

Voldemort knit his brow together in confusion. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Why?" he asked perplexedly.

"Because you entered our little bet under false pretences, m'boy!" boomed Slughorn, wagging a reproving finger in Voldemort's face. "So…" he sighed and grinned, "I think it only befitting that we share the profits for this place. I mean, I'm sure you'll be getting many a customer after that fiasco in the marketplace."

Voldemort was beginning to get irritated. Share the profits? What was the man raving on about?

"So what do you say, half and half?" asked Slughorn, the smile fading from his face. "Mr Tom Riddle?"

Voldemort froze.

Dobby, meanwhile, was perched tentatively on a rickety chair, nervously twisting the pitiful rags that clothed him around his fingers.

Bellatrix blew a thick layer of dust off a nearby plate and placed a stale pie upon it before handing it to Dobby. As she did so, she thought she felt a flicker of recognition. "Didn't you used to be the Malfoy's elf?" she enquired, peering closely at him.

Dobby bowed his head and clutched his rags yet more tightly. "Yes miss," he mumbled.

Bellatrix nodded slowly. "So how come you ended up with that pompous thing upstairs?"

She glanced furtively upwards. What was going on up there? Fighting the urge to investigate, she forced herself to listen to the snivelling elf once more.

"Don't say you don't remember me m'boy!" Slughorn was chortling. "I remember all the Slug Club members I ever had! Especially you, Tom. I must say I was surprised to see you. I thought you were headed for far more ambition than a barber…" he cast his eye around the shabby, neglected room and raised his eyebrows. "Apparently not," he concluded.

Voldemort was still lost for worlds. Of course there was only one thing he could do. His eyes lit up with excitement. But he must keep his face neutral…

"So, Tom, unless you want the whole of Hogsmeade to discover you're a fraud, I suggest you take me up on my offer! Lord Voldemort indeed!" he scoffed.

Voldemort snapped. Drawing his wand from out of his pocket, he swung around to face the mocking smile of Horace Slughorn and screamed; "Crucio!"

Bellatrix's heart started to race as she heard the muffled screams over the ceiling. Noticing Dobby's inquisitive gaze upwards, she hastily began to clatter pots and pans around to mask the awful sound.

"Always work to be done!" she trilled.

Dobby, however, had frozen in fright; the last of his pie slipped from his fingers and he bounded up from his chair.

"Oh no! Master Slughorn has an qppointment! If he's late he will be very angry," he trembled. "Thank you for the pie miss," he called over his shoulder as he rushed out of the room.

"Wait!" Bellatrix hissed frantically, but the little elf was already out of sight.

"Master, you have an appointment!" panted Dobby as he ran up the stairs as fast as his tiny legs could manage; but when he pushed open the door, Voldemort was sat, quite alone, on the dusty chair, and Slughorn was nowhere in sight.

"Your master had to apparate to an important meeting. You'd better try and catch up with him." Voldemort said shortly without looking at Dobby.

"I think it would be best if I just wait here, sir," Dobby muttered nervously.

"Well, why don't you wait downstairs with Mrs Lestrange? I'm sure she won't mind giving you another pie," replied Voldemort as patiently as he could.

"Well…" Dobby mumbled uncertainly.

Voldemort's eyes darted to a heavy chest in the corner of the room. Why wouldn't the vermin just disappear?

"Tell Mrs Lestrange from me to give you a nice big glass of Butterbeer," he said in what he hoped was a friendly tone of voice.

Dobby's face lit up with excitement. "Thank you sir!" he squeaked before darting back downstairs.

Voldemort cautiously closed the door, and edged towards the trunk.

As it creaked open, the head and torso of Horace Slughorn emerged, gasping for air and weak from his torture.

Voldemort raised his wand, gave Slughorn one final look of disgust and whispered the fatal words;

"Avada Kedavra!"