It was just about midnight and the spacious mansion was eerily silent. The huge sitting room, once richly furnished decorated, now only a vague shadow of its past self, was almost completely dark. The embers in the fireplace were dying; the huge snake lying on the floor now moved closer to the only source of warmth in the room and curled up, slowly, satisfiedly falling asleep.
The sole candle, burning in a brass chandelier on the once magnificent redwood desk, wasn't enough to light the face of the lonely figure sitting in an armchair behind the desk. Rather, it cast dark, dancing shadows on the man's inhuman face, enhancing the evil, red sparks in the man's snakelike, without an iris eyes.
Lord Voldemort – because he was the man – sat there for what might have seemed an eternity for others. In his insane thirst for immortality, the hours he had been spending in his armchair contemplating about his next steps, weaving yet another of his sinister plans, were not more than mere seconds; time had lost his meaning for him long ago as he was preparing his final offensive to conquer it, together with the whole world.
He heard – rather sensed - light steps coming from the corridor but he didn't raise his head. He knew to whom those steps belonged and he knew he would know the reason of her visit pretty soon.
Indeed, a few seconds later someone knocked at the door. Still unmoving, he only raised his right hand and the door swept open, letting the late night visitor in.
Walking slowly towards her Master, the powerful witch felt many emotions at once. Her curiosity, respect, admiration and love, however, were overshadowed by the imminent fear present every time he was around her. Stopping in front of the desk, she slowly lowered herself on one knee and respectfully bowed her head, waiting to be spoken to.
"My dear Bella," Voldemort softly spoke, "it's kind of late now, although I do not deny that your presence immensely pleases me."
Storing this bit of information in her head, the witch answered in her deep voice. "I live only to serve you, My Lord. I wouldn't dare bother you, unless any circumstances would require that." Careful, Bella, she warned herself, pick your words carefully.
"You've been serving me well, Bella," said Voldemort and for the first time raised his head, carefully examining the witch's face. She stood his probing glance for a few second, then lowered her head again, not daring to look into those inhuman eyes.
Barely suppressing a smirk on his face, the Dark Lord gestured the witch to stand. "I can sense worry in you, my faithful lieutenant. You spoke of 'circumstances' that made you seek my audience. Whatever 'circumstances' might have arisen that could induce so much fear in the soul of Bellatrix Lestrange?"
For a moment, Bellatrix thought over this last sentence. While not being a skilled Legilimens – and even if she were she wouldn't have stood a chance against him – she understood at once that there was no irony in the Dark Lord's voice. On the contrary, he seemed satisfied with her. That was exactly why she had to be extra careful in picking the best way to break the news to her Master.
Drawing a sharp breath, she tensed up a little again as she decided it was time; the sooner, the better. "My Lord," she started, her voice slightly trembling with tension, "I'm afraid I have brought some bad news."
Voldemort already picked some of the information from her subconscious and his tainted blood was already boiling beneath the surface, the mask of calmness he had forced on himself. He didn't really have to hear those words from her mouth, but he was curious how the witch would behave in this situation. Trying to look interested, he nudged her to continue and she nodded in obedience, her breast rapidly rising and falling in excitement.
"As you know, My Lord, yesterday Dolohov and Pettigrew were watching the … place on your orders. They never reported back, My Lord..."
Voldemort stood in one swift movement and Bella suddenly had to ask herself the question whether she had gone too far. The harm - if any - had was already done, so she collected all her bravery and continued her sentence where she was interrupted.
"... until, completely unexpectedly, they were found this afternoon, in two different parts of London," she swallowed nervously.
"They were found?" Voldemort started losing his patience. "What do you mean 'they were found', my dear Bella?"
"My Lord," she proudly raised her head again, "I mean it literally. Pettigrew was lying on the asphalt stinking of his own urine. He was disoriented and didn't remember where he was or who he was, for that matter. He was wearing a stupid expression on his face and kept repeating 'I lost Potter... I lost Potter...' He's being tended to as we speak, My Lord; I took the freedom to assume that you wish to speak to him."
There was a dangerous red flash in those snake-like eyes and the witch braced herself. The flame, however, went out as quick as it had appeared and she mentally wiped her forehead, letting out a barely audible, relieved sigh.
"Bella," hissed Voldemort in a cold voice, "I'm the only one here who is allowed 'to take the freedom', as you might have noticed. Yet, you were correct in your assumptions, therefore I will have to refrain from punishing you..."
Bellatrix relaxed even more, what couldn't skip the other wizard's attention. "... for the time being," he finished the sentence, enjoying the palpable wave of fear, emanating from the witch. "Now continue. You mentioned that both my loyal Death Eaters had been found. What happened to Dolohov?"
Half of the damage is done, the witch thought, and I'm still not writhing on the floor in pain. It will come, sooner or later.
"Dolohov is barely hanging in there, My Lord," she continued her report," and his situation is more than curiouos. He had lost a lot of blood through two tiny puncture wounds on his neck. If I may say so, My Lord... those are vampire bites."
The Dark Lord started pacing around the room, slowly, silently, measuring a few options in his head. His steps, however, woke up Nagini and she questioningly looked at her Master as if waiting for his commands. The wizard, however, took no notice of her and the giant serpent soon fell asleep again.
Finally, Voldemort stopped his pacing and stood behind Bellatrix; his hot breath burned the witch's neck and she braced herself again, waiting for the inevitable. His closeness sent unpleasant shivers down her spine and she silently wished she could be somewhere else, somewhere very far from this cursed place. Oh no, Bellatrix wasn't a holy person, but this amount of hatred, hate, evilness the man was radiating scared even her to death.
"My dear Bellatrix Lestrange, you are forgetting your place again." Closing her eyes, the witch shivered as if in the foreclosure of the Cruciatus Curse. It didn't come, however, and the wizard suddenly drew away from her.
"Your assumptions, yet again, were true." She curtsied briefly, as if thanking for the small compliment. "You and Severus are the only two people in my flock with actual brains." He lazily flicked his wrist and the next moment Bellatrix felt a sudden wave of heat rush through her body, a feeling she had last experienced on her wedding night, and soon she was hit with a mind-bending orgasm so powerful that she barely could stand on her feet. Yet, she didn't give in, only closed her heavy-lidded eyes and bit her lips as she silently enjoyed herself.
The Dark Lord watched her with badly disguised interest... and actually smiled, but said nothing. When she, finally opened her eyes glistering with pleasure, she fell on her knees before him.
"My Lord is generous, and I thank you for your gift," she said in a hoarse voice full of emotions. And then, it suddenly hit her. This time, however, the Cruciatus Curse had a strange effect on her overstimulated body. Through the waves of pain a second orgasm was building, twice as powerful as the first one, and when it finally hit her, she fell on the floor, writhing in ecstasy. Through the mist, she barely caught the Dark Lord's last words.
"I AM generous, Bella, but I do not forget."
It took her a good ten minutes before she managed to put herself together again. Still somewhat dazed, she stood on her trembling legs before her Master and waited patiently, only her rapidly rising and falling chest the telltale sign of what had just happened.
"Now I wish to see those two idiots. Show me the way," Voldemort requested in an emotionless voice and Bellatrix exhaled sharply. The worst thing is over. Boy was she wrong.
She led her Master downstairs into the dungeons, where the two unlucky Death Eaters were tended to in one of the chambers, transformed into a makeshift hospital room. Pettigrew lay on his back on one of the beds, staring at the ceiling and wearing an idiotic smile on his rat-like face, his lips soundlessly murmuring something. The two young witches tending to Dolohov fell on their knees, but the Dark Lord took no notice of them.
Bellatrix stepped to Pettigrew's bed and examined the man carefully, trying not to take notice of the sharp stank of urine. "Stand up, rat," she commanded in a disgusted tone, "the Dark Lord wishes to speak with you!" The magical edge of her voice broke through the man's reverie and he collected himself, kneeling before his Master.
"Why don't you tell me everything, Peter?" Voldemort hissed moving closer, and Bellatrix - wisely - backed off two steps.
"My Lord," the man murmured somewhat incoherently, "Dolohov and myself were watching the … place as you had ordered. We left our positions only for a few minutes, when out of the blue Potter appeared in one of the side streets. I went after him, My Lord, but I'm afraid I lost him." Mustering all his courage, he raised his head.
"You MORON!" shrieked Bellatrix, not being able to hold herself back any longer. It was very well known that she had no sympathies for the disgusting man; she herself didn't understand what values the Dark Lord might have seen in this sorry excuse of a human being, and she didn't fail to voice her opinion at every possibility, "You didn't stun him? You didn't bring him to your Master?"
"Nobody asked you, Bella," Voldemort chided with the slightest edge in his voice. "She is, however, right, Peter," he turned his attention towards the wizard again. "Can you give me a good reason why I shouldn't punish you for your failure to bring Potter to me?"
The man's legs started to tremble and he tried to make himself as small as possible. "M...my Lord, I saw him maybe ten seconds. When Potter recognized me, he started to run and Apparated away as soon as he reached that side street."
"You know, Peter," Voldemort reached into his robe, "we all here, even I, have certain... obligations, isn't that right, my dear Bellatrix?" Not expecting an answer, he continued. "With obligations come responsibilities and those unable to cope with those responsibilities, unfortunately, will have to answer. Even I, Lord Voldemort, paid my price with thirteen years of bare existence for ignoring that stupid Muggleborn's pathetic self-sacrifice. So, I don't see why you should not be punished for your ignorance. It won't take long, Peter."
He was right. It didn't take long - two minutes maybe - but when he lifted the Cruciatus Curse, the pathetically whining Pettigrew lay on the ground, his body still convulsing, as a heap of rags, unable to stand. Voldemort now leaned down and grabbed him at his neck, locking eyes with him, then disgustedly threw him back on the floor.
Turning around, he turned his attention towards the other Death Eater. "Speak!" he commanded to the two witches still kneeling before him. "How is he?"
"My Lord," the braver of the two replied in a weak voice, "he had lost a lot of blood. He was almost sucked dry and is barely alive. The only thing we can do for him is replenish his blood and wait."
"Don't fail me! You've just seen what happens to those who do!" he bellowed and a sudden outburst of his seemingly endless magical energy shook the walls of the chamber. The witch who just spoke grabbed her chest in sheer pain, while the other witch simply fainted. Motioning towards Bellatrix, Voldemort turned around, his robe flapping behind him like the wings of a giant bat and with heavy steps left the chamber, smashing the door behind them.
Once in the corridor, he abruptly turned around, fire burning in his inhuman eyes. Reaching for Bellatrix' face, he almost lovingly brushed her cheekbones with his thumbs. The next moment the witch's knees buckled as he forcefully, without warning entered her mind, sending her a few mental images.
"Who dares..." whispered the witch when she finally collected herself. "Who dares to impersonate the Dark Lord?"
"That, my dear Bella, is a very good question indeed. Considering all that had happened, I'm of the opinion that we need to pay a visit of courtesy to Lord Petrescu, the sooner, the better," he pronounced the title in a voice dripping venom. The sudden paleness on Bella's face was clearly visible, even in the eerie, faint torchlight.
"The vampire clan, My Lord?" she gulped.
"I hope you're not afraid of a few bloodsuckers?" One could clearly feel the irony in Voldemort's voice, but Bella couldn't appreciate it. Yet, she said nothing, only shook her head, admitting defeat.
"Very well, my true servant. Shall we go then?" And not even waiting for her answer, he took her hand and the two disappeared with a faint 'pop'.
Grimmauld Place woke at a loud cry and an audible 'thump'. Ron, summoning his wand from the nightstand, jumped out of bed, only to see Harry sitting on the floor, clutching his head in a painful grimace. The next moment Leticia and Hermione charged through the door, their wands at ready, and rushed to the boy with a worried expression on their faces.
Slowly raising his head, Harry spoke in a shaky voice, every word sending him a new wave of nausea. "I think we managed to royally piss off the Dork Lard. He's furious as hell and just massacred the Petrescu clan." Soon, however, a faint smile appeared on his face as he briefly locked eyes with Leticia, then turned to the other two. "The gamble just paid off." Then he thankfully passed out from the excruciating pain.