March 1973
Nurmengard
"It's enormous," Bellatrix breathed, gripping her wand more carefully. She and the Dark Lord had Apparated here after he'd received its secret location from Peter Emmerick. She stared up at the angular stone tower that seemed to have been birthed by the sea cliff itself. She breathed in the salt and let the wind whip her hair. Beside her, Voldemort took a few steps forward and called sharply,
"Emmerick!"
Bellatrix yelped then as something wrapped around her ankle. She suppressed a shriek when she looked down and saw the grey, bony hand of an Inferius. The undead face of the crawling creature stared up at her, milky-eyed and snarling, and Bellatrix aimed her wand at the thing as she recoiled quickly backward. Before she could incant her spell, she heard Voldemort's voice say sharply,
"Incendio."
Fire shot past Bellatrix then, engulfing the Inferius. It barely made any sound as it writhed and charred. An awful smell of death washed over Bellatrix, so strongly that she felt sick. She turned to Voldemort and asked,
"Who do you suppose they were?"
"They Inferi?" Voldemort shrugged. "Old enemies of Grindelwald's, I'm sure. There's Emmerick now. Come."
She followed him across the patchy brown grass, over pebbles and flat sheets of slate. They grew closer to the immense fortress, and Bellatrix kept her gaze on the stocky ginger wizard who stood in front of the building. His black robes whipped about him, and he held up one hand in solemn greeting. When they finally approached, Peter Emmerick bowed deferentially and said over the wind,
"An honour it is to meet you at last."
"This is Bellatrix Black," Voldemort said, ignoring the greeting. "My… associate."
Bellatrix couldn't help but smirk at that; he'd introduced her in Venice to Aloysius da Chioggia the same way. Peter Emmerick's cold blue eyes warmed a little, and he nodded.
"Miss Black. A pleasure. Sorry about that Inferius on your way in; they've learnt that the Aurors here are more or less allied with them, and they ignore us." He turned and stared up at the stone tower, gesturing to the very top. "Gellert Grindelwald is housed in the uppermost cell of the building. He is without a wand, but there are still anti-Apparition charms on the structure, just in case. You'll need to come back out here when you leave. I shall stay and keep the Inferi at bay. I am the only Auror on duty at the moment."
Bellatrix was impressed by Emmerick's matter-of-fact methodology, by his efficient manner of speaking. She suspected that he might earn himself a Dark Mark, after all.
"Mulciber has seen to it that you be reassigned to Auror work in Britain," Voldemort said smoothly. "Upon your return, you will do the same for me that Mulciber does now. You will be working on my behalf in the Auror office. Have we a bargain?"
Peter Emmerick grinned widely. "We do, My Lord. Please… take your time inside."
He gestured to the monumental structure behind him, and Voldemort nodded. He and Bellatrix walked up to the open square arch that served as the entrance to the tower. It was just as dank and cold and salt-whipped inside as the outside was. Bellatrix stared up at the triangular staircases that seemed never ending. She could barely even see the top of the building, even with the grey light streaming in through the slits in the walls.
"How will we ever climb all those stairs?" she mused, her thighs aching at the very prospect. The Dark Lord smirked and said,
"Bellatrix, do you remember when I told you I'd mastered flight?"
Bellatrix's eyes went wide. She pointed upwards and said nervously, "You mean -"
"Yes, I do. Hold on tightly," he commanded her. He wrapped his left arm around Bellatrix's waist, and on instinct she snared her own arms around his shoulders. She stared up at him, at the way his eyes gleamed in the dim cloudy light, and she whispered,
"Right, then. Let's fly."
She squealed with alarm when he pushed his boots off the ground, sending them upward in a smooth, straight line. It seemed effortless for him, and his cocky smirk broadened as they whizzed past the endless stairs. Bellatrix felt her stomach flop, partially from the motion and partly because she was afraid they would slam into the stone. But Voldemort kept them moving expertly; they soared up through the centre of the tower until he glided sideways and landed them on the very top level. Bellatrix was a little dizzy after her feet touched the ground, and for a moment she didn't let him go.
"His cell is just down the corridor," Voldemort whispered, peeling Bellatrix's arms from his body. "I can feel him."
Bellatrix, still in awe of her master's immense and terrifying power, followed him down a corridor lit only by a single wall torch. There was no lock on the heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor, but she could tell it was Grindelwald's cell. Voldemort pushed the door open, and it creaked mightily. Bellatrix tried to keep her face impassive when they stepped into the cell, both of them with their wands extended. She lowered hers a little when she realised the cell's inhabitant wasn't the powerful politician she'd heard discussed in Vienna, but a shriveled old man hunkered in the corner. He was chained the walls, his bindings thick and heavy. He looked and smelled like he hadn't bathed in decades. And he was smiling at them, his pale eyes twinkling with unmasked delight.
"Ah," said Grindelwald. "Now this is a visit I did see coming. Tom. Bellatrix."
Bellatrix gripped her wand more tightly and turned her attention to Voldemort. His face stayed steady as he nodded and said,
"Then it's true. You are a Seer."
Grindelwald shut his eyes and tipped his head back against the stone wall. The sound of waves crashing outside was the only punctuation to the heavy silence. Finally Grindelwald spoke.
"I was a lot of things, once upon a time. And that's why you've come. Tell me what you want… Lord Voldemort."
"I want your secrets," Voldemort answered immediately. When Grindelwald met his gaze, he took another step into the cell and specified, "Your movement started out quietly, almost… peacefully. Why? How did that change?"
Grindelwald smiled knowingly. "Vienna," he nodded. He sighed and said, "I found it easier to carefully cultivate my power, as though it were a delicate flower. But soon enough I had an army instead of an assembly. Soon enough I had a war instead of a cause. And wars, Mr. Riddle, are very messy indeed."
"So they are," said Voldemort. Bellatrix was fascinated by the exchange, but she couldn't help flicking her eyes out to see the vertigo-inducing drop to the dark sea below.
"I will tell you my most important bit of wisdom," Grindelwald said, and Bellatrix turned back to face him. "And that is this. I do not suppose that any wizard who is pitted directly against Albus Dumbledore can ever truly defeat him."
There was an odd quiet then as Voldemort seemed to be staring straight into Grindelwald's soul. Finally, Bellatrix heard her master say,
"But you had something with Dumbledore that I've never had. A profoundly positive relationship. You were drowning so thoroughly in what you cared for that you couldn't see his weaknesses. But I have been scanning and watching all my life for Dumbledore's weaknesses."
"Have you found many of them?" Grindelwald asked with a wry smile, and Voldemort tipped his head.
"He is insufficiently fond of killing, and that is more than enough."
"Yes." Grindelwald lowered his face and looked at the heavy shackles on his wrists. "He could have killed me, but he didn't. Instead I've become a logistical nightmare for wizarding governments the world over. What remarkable insight, Mr Riddle."
A sarcastic glare was exchanged between the two men then, and finally Voldemort demanded, "Tell me what to do so that I don't wind up like you."
Grindelwald's eyes crinkled, and he laughed softly. He sounded tired then as he sighed and leaned back against the stone. "Stay human," he said simply. Then, his face going quite serious indeed, he said, "I know what you've done, Lord Voldemort. The steps you have taken. Keep your feet upon the wet black earth, and someday allow yourself to be buried in it."
Bellatrix frowned, confused by those words. But Voldemort did not seem confused at all, and he said in a dangerous sort of tone,
"You're an old man in a less-than-ideal living situation. I'm sure you need rest. We'll leave you be."
"But you haven't let the lady speak," Grindelwald said, gesturing rather grandly toward Bellatrix. She felt her cheeks go hot as the old wizard's eyes met his. He cocked up a white eyebrow and said, "Have you a voice of your own, Bellatrix? I'm quite sure you've your own questions for me."
Bellatrix straightened her back. She was no Legilimens, but she could pick up on the tension that had developed between Grindelwald and her master, and she knew which side she was on.
"I do have one question," she said. She jerked her face toward the window and asked, "Why haven't you jumped?"
Grindelwald laughed then, his voice hoarse, like he hadn't laughed in decades. Perhaps he hadn't. He slapped his spindly knee and said to Voldemort,
"I like her. You could leave her for me as an act of mercy. But… ah. My dear girl, I simply can not jump." He turned his pale eyes to Bellatrix and held up his shackled hands. "My chains do not reach, and, in any case, the window is too narrow. I've no wand, or else a simple Engorgio would do the trick. Perhaps you will be the merciful one in this cell."
Bellatrix shook her head and said plainly, "I am insufficiently fond of mercy."
"Well." Grindelwald leaned against the wall and shut his eyes. "As you said, I am an old man in desperate need of respite. Since neither of you mean to provide, perhaps my old friend Sleep will come again. How good it was of you to visit me."
"Come, Bella," Voldemort said sharply. Bellatrix dashed over to him, lacing her arm through his. As they walked wordlessly from the cell, Grindelwald said from behind them,
"Stay human, Mr Riddle!"
Voldemort shut the heavy wooden door behind him and glanced over the balustrade to the floor many storeys below. He wrapped his arm around Bellatrix's waist, and she linked her hands behind his neck, studying his face. Then, without warning, he leaped.
March 1973
Malfoy Manor
"For Merlin's sake, Lestrange, what's happened? Legilimens!" Voldemort walked briskly toward Rodolphus Lestrange, who was climbing the stairs in the main hall of Malfoy Manor with Bellatrix in his arms. They'd been with Lucius and Abraxas Malfoy in Grimsby, pursuing a lead that Mad-Eye Moody and the Weasley family were hiding in the town. Voldemort had held back, knowing that he couldn't be at every battle and trusting his finest soldiers to complete their task. That, he could see now, had been a terrible mistake. He smashed into Rodolphus Lestrange's mind, and the chaotic scene from the house in Grimsby played out before him.
"Molly, take the boys and go!" screamed Arthur Weasley. The red-haired witch behind him clutch her infant son closer and seized the hand of a frightened three-year-old boy. She Disapparated with a resounding crack, and Abraxas Malfoy snarled in frustration.
"Stupefy!" Arthur Weasley yelled, his blue spell exploding from his wand and hurtling toward the Death Eaters. Bellatrix stepped in front of the spell and expertly deflected it, immediately calling back,
"Avada Kedavra!"
Her Killing Curse burst apart the fireplace and plaster wall behind Arthur Weasley, who Disapparated just in time.
"Oh, no you don't, you evil bitch," said Mad-Eye Moody, jerking his wand wordlessly toward Bellatrix. She turned her attention away from the blast-apart wall just in time to see a jet of deep purple light hurtle toward her. It struck her in the head and she collapsed at once.
"Bella!" Rodolphus yelled. Curses and light flew then as the Malfoys fiercely battled Mad-Eye Moody. Rodolphus dashed over to Bellatrix and checked that she was alive. She was, but only just. He glanced up to see Lucius Malfoy take a Jelly-Legs Curse, which made him wobble straight into an end table and topple over. Abraxas Malfoy's eyes flashed, and Moody seemed to know that he was about to be killed. The Auror wisely Disapparated, leaving the Death Eaters alone in the parlour.
"You take Bellatrix," Abraxas told Rodolphus firmly. "Get her back to the Dark Lord at my home. Let me get this spell reversed on Lucius, and we'll be behind you."
Rodolphus scooped Bellatrix up in his arms. He could have Levitated her, he supposed, but he didn't want to risk it. He wasn't sure what sort of spell had hit her. She was hardly a burden, and once he stood, he stared down at her for a half second. She was beautiful, he realised again. She was meant to be his wife. But he sighed and reminded himself that they were both in the service of the Dark Lord, and that came before anything he might feel for Bella.
He Disapparated, taking more care than usual as he did. He rushed through the gardens at Malfoy Manor, reaching his wand around Bellatrix and touching it to his Dark Mark. By the time he started climbing the stairs in the manor's entry, he could hear the Dark Lord shouting angrily.
Voldemort pulled out of Rodolphus' head and immediately reached for Bellatrix. She was limp and quiet as he wrapped her up in his arms. He tried to keep his voice steady as he commanded Rodolphus,
"Stay here, Lestrange. Send me an owl when you've confirmed that the Malfoys are alive. Other than that, do not summon or bother me, and tell the others the same."
"Yes, My Lord. I am very sorry, My Lord." Rodolphus wrung his hands before him. Voldemort ignored him entirely, making his way quickly back down the stairs and out of the manor. He walked briskly through the gardens, wondering if his presence at the battle would have protected Bellatrix.
Rodolphus Lestrange hadn't known what the spell was that had hit Bellatrix, but Voldemort did. The Sempisomnus Curse, used to send the victim into a deep sleep only reversible by a potion, was rarely employed owing to its unreliable nature. But Mad-Eye Moody was a powerful wizard, and he'd cast the curse with skill. Bellatrix wasn't dead or dying; she was so deeply asleep that she could only be awakened by a fresh batch of Wideye Potion. Even with Voldemort's high-quality copper cauldron, brewing the potion would take eight hours. He'd have to get straight to work.
At Blaize Bailey, he cleane Bellatrix up with a few spells and settled her into their bed, tucking the blankets around her and staring down at her for a moment. He stroked her jaw with his knuckles and murmured,
"Don't worry, Bella. I'll wake you soon."
He made his way to the sunroom that he'd designated as a potions workspace, rolling his sleeves to his elbows and setting to work. He lifted his copper cauldron onto the wooden work table and Scoured it. He began assembling his ingredients from the drawers and cupboards of stores. Snake fangs, Billywig sting, Standard Ingredient, Wolfsbane. A mortar and pestle.
He had the recipe for Wideye Potion memorised, and he even thought there was an old bottle somewhere in his stores here. But Bellatrix would experience a splitting headache if he used expired potion. So Voldemort calmly ground the fangs and herbs in his mortar whilst the Billywig Stings heated. Once the potion was stirred and brewing, there was nothing to do but wait.
He checked on Bellatrix again, brushing her curls away from her face as he pondered what Grindelwald had said to him a week before. Stay human. It had been a maddening thing to hear at the time; Voldemort had no shame or regret in having made his Horcruxes. But now, as he felt the crushing dread in his chest over what had happened to Bellatrix, he felt quite human indeed. He couldn't love her, and he had no idea what love was. But whatever he did feel for her was very powerful indeed.
He forced himself to eat some soup and bread and to drink a few glasses of water. He checked on Bellatrix again after that. He took a long, hot bath, thinking of how his enemies had escaped today and thinking of Bellatrix. He checked on her again. An owl came from Rodolphus Lestrange, assuring the Dark Lord of the Malfoys' safety and apologising profusely from their failure. Voldemort incinerated the letter and did not write back. He checked on Bellatrix once more, lying down in the bed beside her sleeping form.
"I am human, Bella," he said, though of course she couldn't hear him. He tucked himself beneath the blankets and drew her near, frustrated by the fact that his potion still had almost five hours of brewing time. The minutes were passing interminably. He shut his eyes and breathed in the faint scent of rose in Bellatrix's hair. He couldn't keep himself then from kissing her cheekbones and even her lips, though he did so carefully. His hand stroked between her shoulder blades as her back rose and fell slowly. He lay on his side and touched his forehead to hers, and he whispered in frustration,
"Wake up, Bella."
A meek little noise escaped her lips, and Voldemort felt his stomach flop and his heart race. He gulped hard and kissed Bellatrix's lips again, being as gentle as he could manage. On instinct, his fingers yanked up her left sleeve, and he wrapped his hand around her forearm. The instant his skin touched her Dark Mark, Bellatrix's eyes flew open. She gasped as though she'd been drowning, and Voldemort felt like he'd been frozen. He blinked a few times, stroking Bellatrix's Mark with his thumb.
"I failed you, My Lord," Bellatrix whispered, but he shook his head and answered,
"I saw it all in Lestrange's head. You fought viciously; you took a curse. That's all."
Bellatrix's eyes fluttered and shut again. "I'm so tired, My Lord. So… sleepy."
"Stay awake," he insisted, but he could tell Bellatrix was drifting off again. Voldemort stroked her Mark and crushed her lips with his, concentrating on filling her with his magic. Suddenly she was kissing him back, her tongue urgent and her hands grasping at his shoulders. She moaned and squirmed, and when he pulled his face from hers, she whispered frantically,
"Make love to me… please. Please."
She'd never referred to the act like that, but he didn't correct her. Now was scarcely the time for fucking, in any case. He looked at the clothes concealing her body from him and felt a twinge of frustration. He reached for his wand and silently Banished her clothes to the corner of the bedroom. Bellatrix wriggled as her dress and knickers pulled themselves off of her body, as her bra unclasped itself and pulled down her arms. As her body was stripped, he wrenched his own shirt and trousers off, and he tossed them aside with his underwear and socks. He brought Bellatrix closer to him again, noticing at once that she'd nodded off.
"Wake up, Bella," he commanded her in a whisper, his hand drifting from her shoulder down to her backside and squeezing a little. She blinked once, slowly, but her breath was slow and deep. Voldemort pushed her onto her back and hovered over her, leaning onto one elbow as he touched her. He brushed his knuckles over her collarbone, down along the outside curve of her breast, and he kissed her lips rather insistently. "Wake up…"
"Mmm…" Her fingers reached weakly for his chest, trailing down his stomach and wrapping loosely around his half-hard cock. Voldemort studied her carefully, focusing on the parts that made her beautiful, feeling blood rush to his member as he did. He put his fingers between her legs, but she was utterly and unsurprisingly dry. She boiled up his magic and cast a wandless Lubrico Charm upon her, feeling her go slick beneath his fingers. Her breath quickened, but her eyes did not open.
"Bella," Voldemort found himself saying as he twitched in her hand, "It's fine; it's one stupid altercation that went a bit wrong. You didn't fail me. You'll be fine. Just try and look at me."
Her eyelids fluttered and her hand moved on him a little, but then her hand stopped and her face fell to the side. Voldemort growled in frustration, putting his lips beside her ear.
"Don't hate me for this," he commanded, moving to hover above her. He lined himself up with her entrance and reached again for her left forearm. He massaged her Dark Mark, and she sprang awake again. Her back arched up, her breasts heaving with her sudden fast breath. Her dark eyes met his, and Voldemort said,
"Give me permission."
She nodded. "Please take me."
"Mmph." He pushed into her, his fingers still touching her Mark. He synchronised the rhythm of his hand and his cock, pumping smoothly into her as his thumb stroked along the searing black lines he'd put upon her. Bellatrix's hands clenched on the sheets, and she moaned quietly. But then her face turned to the side, and she began to drift off again. Voldemort growled, frustrated by Moody's Sempisomnus Curse. He jerked his hips faster and faster until he could hardly breathe, and he wrapped his hand around Bellatrix's arm. Bellatrix's body was mostly unresponsive now, and the rousing effects of him touching her Dark Mark seemed to be diminishing.
Voldemort let himself finish, feeling a radiating warmth for a few seconds and a dull, pulsing pleasure. His seed jetted forth from his body into hers, and he could feel his magic doing the same from his fingers into her arm. That moment seemed to wake Bellatrix up more thoroughly, her eyes going wide and her fingers tightening on the sheets again. Her gaze finally found his, and she whispered rather frantically,
"I love you, Tom."
His mouth fell open, for those words had shot through his veins like a drug. He just nodded and pulled himself out of her. He released her arm, and her eyelids started to drift closed again. He lowered his face to hers and kissed her hard, swirling his tongue into her mouth and getting very little back. It started to feel… wrong, almost as though he were taking something from her that she was not equipped to give. So he climbed off of her and stood beside the bed, tucking the blankets up around her to keep her nude body warm.
"The Wideye Potion will be ready in a few hours," he told her, not caring that she couldn't hear him. He dressed, taking his time and studying her beautiful face as he did. Before he went back downstairs, he dipped to kiss her forehead one more time, and he murmured, "Sleep, my lovely little soldier. I'll wake you soon enough."
March 1973
Malfoy Manor
"Rookwood. What new information have you got?"
Bellatrix glanced down the long table at which the Death Eaters had assembled for their bi-weekly meeting. Augustus Rookwood, an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries, folded his hands on the table and said,
"My Lord, Ludovic Bagman informed me the other day that in his circle of family and friends, there is increasing talk of blood purity and anti-Muggle sentiment. I have heard similarly from other members of the Department of Mysteries. It would seem that fear and logic are combining to make more and more sympathetic to our cause."
"Good news," Voldemort nodded. "Anything else?"
"There is more talk by the day within the Ministry about the Minister herself," Rookwood pronounced. "Eugenia Jenkins is said to be incompetent in handling the so-called threat you pose."
"My Lord, if I may…" Rabastan Lestrange held up a copy of the Daily Prophet and said, "This just came out this morning. To Rookwood's point, I believe you may find the headline intriguing, Master."
Bellatrix's eyes went up with curiosity as Voldemort silently Summoned the newspaper. He read it for a moment, and a heavy quiet settled over the table. Voldemort finally smirked and passed the newspaper to Bellatrix, who sat beside him, and said,
"Go ahead and read it aloud to the class, Bella."
She cleared her throat and read in a clear voice, "HELPFUL OR HELPLESS? MINISTER JENKINS' COMPETENCE CALLED INTO QUESTION. We are all more than aware of the terrifying rise of Lord Voldemort, the once underestimated master of the Dark Arts. His ever-growing army of adherents has swollen most dramatically in the past year. All of this in spite of Minister for Magic Eugenia Jenkins' valiant efforts, many of which have proven fruitless. Increased Dementor presence at Azkaban has done little good when so few Death Eaters have been captured. Incidents of murdered Ministry employees, Magical civilians, and Muggles alike continue unabated. If one could declare our present reality a real war, it is clear that Lord Voldemort would be winning it. But what is the answer? Many are calling for Minister Jenkins' resignation, but so far she has stubbornly refused. She continues to promise better results in capturing Lord Voldemort's followers and, she says, the Dark Lord himself. The efficacy of these efforts remains to be seen, as does the will of the people in response."
Bellatrix set the newspaper down and looked up at Voldemort. Around the table, little smiles, quiet laughter, and excited squirming prevailed. Narcissa met her sister's eyes across the table, and the younger woman's lips turned up.
"Abraxas, I take it our plant at the Prophet was coerced to write this?" Voldemort asked, and Abraxas said in a rather surprised voice,
"Not that I know of, My Lord. It would seem that the discontent among Ministry employees is real and visceral. Many are indeed calling for Jenkins to resign."
"That would open up an opportunity for us to seize the position of Minister for ourselves," Voldemort nodded, "if we play our cards right. Very well. Let's give them all a few days of quiet, a few days to think that perhaps their precious Minister has things under control. Then let all hell break loose. Abraxas, Narcissa, and Lucius, I want a random attack in a Muggle town. Rabastan and Rodolphus - set fire to a shop in Hogsmeade. Karkaroff and Avery, burst out some windows in Diagon Alley. Bellatrix and I will take out an Auror. All of this happens on the evening of this coming Thursday, a week from today. Give them complacency, then give them a shock of terror."
"Very good, My Lord," Abraxas nodded, and the others around their table bowed their heads in respect. Voldemort dragged his fingers down the length of his wand and smiled wickedly.
"Dismissed," he said.
"Bella."
She whirled around at the sound of her name, surprised to see Rodolphus Lestrange walking toward her. She glanced around; there was no one else in this wide corridor of Malfoy Manor. She forced a smile and said,
"Hello, Rodolphus."
"How are you feeling?" he asked gently, and Bellatrix flinched when he dared to reach out and put his hand on her shoulder. She knew what he meant. He'd been the one to bring her from Grimsby to the Dark Lord when she'd been struck by a Sempisomnus Curse. Two weeks had passed since then, and Bellatrix hadn't seen Rodolphus since. She smiled weakly and told him,
"I was perfectly fine once the Dark Lord brewed and dosed me with Wideye Potion. In any case, thank you very much for getting me back safely."
"I'll admit I was frightened for you," Rodolphus said. His hand was still on Bellatrix's shoulder, so she took a half step back. He retracted his hand self-consciously, flashing her an apologetic look. His honey-coloured eyes were sorrowful then as he noted, "I spent years thinking I was going to marry you, Bella. I got within a month of marrying you. Now I'm not sure if I'll ever get the chance. I certainly hope I do. I should like very much to be your husband."
That was awfully bold of him, Bellatrix thought, but she just licked her lip and said quietly, "I thought you were pursuing Tiara Shacklebolt."
Rodolphus shrugged. "She's mad for Rabastan, not me. It doesn't do for two brothers to go after the same woman. Bella… please tell me that I shouldn't give up on marrying you. I'll wait forever as long a I actually have something to wait for."
Bellatrix felt a bit woozy. She shrugged and said lightly, "It isn't up to me, I'm afraid."
"Right." Rodolphus gnawed on the inside of his cheek and nodded. Then he took Bellatrix's face in his hands, eliciting a gasp, and he touched his mouth to hers. Bellatrix squealed and recoiled, tempted to slap Rodolphus straight across his cheek. Instead, she swiped the back of her hand over her lips, scowled at him, and spat,
"I am his, Rodolphus. If you can't see that, you're utterly blind. Wait or don't; it makes no difference to me. You're lucky He didn't see you do that, or you'd be -"
"I did see it," came a smooth voice from down the corridor. Bellatrix and Rodolphus both turned to see the Dark Lord striding toward them with measured steps, his wand out. Beside Bellatrix, Rodolphus' cheeks went red and he cleared his throat roughly.
"I - I do apologise," he stammered. "My Lord, I should not have… I am very -"
"Sorry," Voldemort finished, looming over them both. His dark eyes glittered with rage and then narrowed. "You and your brother had a reputation at Hogwarts, didn't you? A reputation for thieving. Other students' belongings, Potions ingredients, books from the library. You were known for your heists, weren't you?"
Rodolphus just nodded silently. Voldemort aimed his wand at Rodolphus and barked,
"Genua!"
Rodolphus' knees gave out, and he collapsed to kneel on the carpet. His eyes went wide with fear as Voldemort glared down at him.
"You're only sorry that you kissed her because I appeared. Don't lie and tell me otherwise; I can see the truth for myself. No, you should not wait to marry Bellatrix, because it will never happen. Fight your brother for Tiara Shacklebolt or find someone else. And do not forget my mercy today, Rodolphus. You have offended me gravely and I have spared you. You owe me your life."
"I understand, My Lord," Rodolphus nodded. He turned his face to Bellatrix, looking and sounding sincere as he said,
"I am very sorry, Miss Black."
"Come, Bella," Voldemort said sharply, and as Bellatrix followed him, Rodolphus was left kneeling on the rug. Bellatrix walked in silence beside Voldemort until they were at the Apparition Point, and once they'd come to in Blaize Bailey, it was pouring rain. He didn't move from the front garden, choosing instead to simply stand in the rain. Bellatrix said just loudly enough to him to hear,
"I'm very sorry that happened."
"I was just about to say the same to you," Voldemort sighed. He sucked on his teeth for a moment and declared, "I didn't kill him because, if I'd done so, I'd have lost the loyalty of his brother and the Malfoys. I can't afford that right now. But I mean to make it very clear to him that he will never have you. You said it yourself, and I'm glad you did."
"I'm yours," Bellatrix said firmly, and Voldemort nodded. Then he turned and walked inside, and Bellatrix padded quickly behind him.
July 1973
Blaize Bailey
Voldemort stared at the casket before him. It was sleek black with minimalist silver decorations. She wouldn't have wanted anything more elaborate than that. The casket was shut, which was for the best, because Voldemort did not suppose he would be able to maintain his veneer of apathy toward Bellatrix if he'd been able to see her now.
She'd been taken down by a Killing Curse in battle, a spell thrown by Molly Weasley when Bellatrix had tried to seize the woman's children. Always so brazen, Bellatrix had been. Always so willing to throw herself in front of a curse in order to achieve her master's ends.
He stood quietly now in the cemetery, her casket levitated by his wand. He began to slowly lower her into the ground, and he could hear her father crying softly behind him. Voldemort used his wand to cover the casket with loose soil, the black earth upon which his feet had stayed planted thanks to her. When he turned round, Rodolphus Lestrange was staring at him with red-rimmed eyes.
"I'm very sorry, My Lord," said Rodolphus. "I know you cared deeply for her."
"It was far more than that," Voldemort said blankly. "She kept me human."
He jolted awake, springing upward in his bed. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he glanced to the empty space beside him where Bellatrix normally slept. She was at Malfoy Manor, staying with her sister Narcissa. The younger sister had suffered her second miscarriage in a year, and Bellatrix had gone to help Narcissa through it. Voldemort ghosted his fingers over her pillow, knowing it probably smelled of the rose scent her curls always gave off.
He pulled himself out of bed and stalked into the bathroom, illuminating the lamps on the wall and staring at himself in the mirror above the sink. He turned on the cold tap and splashed some cold water on his face, staring again. His skin was wrinkled and imperfect. His greying hair was balding. He may be powerful, but he was a man. A human man.
And then, very suddenly, he understood. It all made sense. He stared at his own fingers and realised that he only had so much power to the change the inevitable. The time travel had happened so that he and Bellatrix could become lovers, so that they could become inextricably linked. They were a binary star, the two of them, orbiting one another constantly. But that had only happened because of Paris. It had only happened because of Venice, because of Vienna. It had only happened because of the nights on the Simplon-Orient Express when he'd listened to her breathing quietly beneath him. He shut his eyes and said aloud,
"She keeps me human."
He had Horcruxes waiting for him, but he had no idea (and was admittedly frightened of) what might happen to him if he ever actually had to use the Horcruxes. But if he focused on staying alive, staying human… staying with Bellatrix…
He found himself abruptly and wholly unafraid. He walked quickly out of the bathroom and dressed in the bedroom. He pulled on a black linen shirt and lightweight trousers, for it was a hot night outside. He draped a thin cotton robe over his shoulders and slipped on his fine leather shoes. He cleaned his teeth and Scoured his body, taking his wand and Disapparating on the spot.
When he came to, he was at Malfoy Manor, just beyond the Apparition Point. He swished his wand to open the garden gate, and as he approached the front doors, he stared up at the second-floor window with a dim light glowing. She was awake. He knew the rooms she stayed in when she came here, and her light was on. Voldemort walked so quickly then that he had to temper his steps from running. The front doors automatically swung open to admit him, the manor having been enchanted to give preferential treatment to the Dark Lord himself. He made his way up the right side of the swooping double staircase and then turned right, climbing another set of stairs. The corridor filled with guest rooms was empty and quiet except for the portraits on the walls. The Malfoy ancestors in the paintings all seemed to be sleeping, and Voldemort moved like a silent wraith. When he reached her rooms, he paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob.
Some idiotic little corner of his mind screamed at him to tell her that he loved her. But that word - love - still made no actual sense to him. He had no good way of describing what he felt for Bellatrix. She was beautiful. She was intelligent. She was powerful. She was his. That was enough. He didn't have a word for it, and she wouldn't need one.
He turned the doorknob to find the guest suite unlocked. He smirked, knowing she'd shriek and probably throw some hexes at him if he came marching in unannounced.
"Bellatrix," he said sharply into the dim room, turning away from the door he'd cast ajar. There was the sound of feet padding softly on the ground, and then the door was pulled open and Bellatrix was there, standing in a long white nightgown, her hair thickly braided over one shoulder. She looked oddly unsurprised to see him, and she dragged her fingers over her braid as she teased him,
"Did you miss me that badly, My Lord, that you had to come fetch me home?"
"Let me in," he demanded, unable to keep his face or voice stern. She stepped aside and bowed her head respectfully, shutting the door behind him after he walked into her rooms. The moment she turned back to him, he seized her face and kissed her hard, making her squeal and nearly drop her wand. When he pulled away, he asked matter-of-factly, "How is your sister?"
Bellatrix's hands nervously went back to her braid. "She's doing all right, My Lord, but… well, Lucius is more than a little disappointed that she's miscarried twice. He thinks something's wrong with her. He says if it happens again…"
She trailed off then, her face going hard and determined. She let go of her hair and put her hands on Voldemort's chest.
"I got into rather a ferocious argument with him, I'm afraid," Bellatrix admitted. "I told him that perhaps the problem was him, or perhaps it was just coincidence, but that in any case he scarcely had the right to threaten his marriage over all this. After all, she's just turned eighteen; they've got ages and ages for her to squeeze out a child for him. And he can be as cruel as he likes to Mudblood and Blood Traitors on your behalf, but he may not be cruel to my sister. That's… that's what I told him, My Lord. I apologise if I overstepped."
Voldemort smirked. "Seems as though you were perfectly reasonable," he said, "but tomorrow night, I want you back in Blaize Bailey. I do not at all care for waking up in the middle of the night to an empty spot beside me."
Bellatrix's eyes warmed a little then, and her fingers tightened on his black linen shirt. Her voice was soft and far gentler than before as she noted, "You woke up without me - without anyone - for a great many years."
"Well, I don't care for it," he told her again. "I have no intention of making a habit of it. I want you home, Bella. But first…"
He flicked his wand over his shoulder and murmured, "Colloportus." The door clicked as it shut, and Voldemort tucked his wand away. He pushed Bellatrix by her shoulders into the sterile guest bedroom, with its dove grey walls and hotel-style white bedding. He started to pull on her nightgown, wrenching and yanking it up and over her head. Her eyes flashed, and as he tossed the nightgown aside, realising she wore no knickers, he felt himself start to go hard in his trousers. He kissed her again, his tongue lathing the roof of her mouth. He drew her bottom lip between his teeth, and he barely registered the way that her hands were unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it away. It, along with his robe, fell to the ground, and Bellatrix's hands moved to his trousers.
"Keep me human, Bella," he murmured against her mouth. Bellatrix's fingers froze, and she stared up at him with her wide dark eyes.
"How am I meant to do that… My Lord?" she asked, and he gulped.
"Tom," he told her firmly. "To you, and especially tonight, I am Tom."
He dragged his fingers around her Dark Mark, making her shiver as her mouth fell open. He let her wrench his trousers and underwear down, and once he'd kicked them away, he brought her Mark to his lips.
"Tom…" she whispered, sounding the slightest bit unhinged. He slid one hand into her knickers, past the soft thatch of hair to the silky folds beneath. His fingertips glided smoothly, and she grew more wet by the second. She twitched around his fingers when he kissed her Dark Mark again. Somehow she had the presence of mind to find his cock and stroke it, her fingers spreading the dew of his want down his shaft.
"Take your knickers off and come here," Voldemort whispered, releasing her arm and pulling his hand from her. He moved to the bed and situated himself carefully upon it, folding his legs as he sat and waited. Bellatrix scrambled to rid herself of her knickers and join him, her eyes blazing as she put a knee on either side of his hips and snaked her arms around his shoulders. Voldemort put his hands on her waist and pulled her down onto him, hissing as her body enveloped his length with slick warmth. She squirmed a little and got off her knees, moving her legs until her ankles were crossed behind Voldemort's back.
The only motion she could make now was to rock against him. There was barely any withdrawal and no dramatic pummeling, but it felt perfect just the same. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and hummed against him, grinding slowly on him as his hands pressed flat against her back. He shut his eyes as she moved, drinking in the delicious aroma of her body, the way her breasts were smashed against his chest, the way her breath puffed onto his neck.
He swallowed hard, realising suddenly that this was it. This was being human. Wanting someone so very badly, needing them, adoring them. It was all impossible without humanity. And for some reason, it was important that Lord Voldemort remain human. Bellatrix was his tether. She made him whole. She made him more powerful. She made him think clearer, made him second-guess his impulsivity and reinforced his authority. She was the piece that had been missing from his broken soul for a long time now. And so it was with very little hesitation that he whispered,
"I care very deeply for you, Bella."
She pulled her head back, her hips stilling for a moment as she replied, "You know I love you."
"I do know it," he nodded. He brushed under her eye with his thumb and studied her pretty face for a moment before tipping back. Bellatrix adjusted herself with him, going back onto her knees and pressing her hands to his chest as he put his head on the too-many pillows. She moved more urgently then, her hips grinding down and forward and then pulling up and back. Voldemort kept his eyes locked on hers, his fingers trailing from her knees to her hips and back again.
"I love you, Tom," she said again, sounding quite sure of herself. Her hands went to the mattress on either side of his shoulders, and she kept her hips pumping as she bent down to kiss him. Voldemort grunted as everything grew tense and taut and warm. His hand grasped her forearm, his magic searing into her Dark Mark, and she moaned into their kiss as her pleasure exploded. That nearly set Voldemort off, and he found himself yanking her down by her waist when her climax rendered her helpless. He kept on kissing her through his own orgasm, his veins coursing with delight as he filled her with his seed.
Stay human, he heard in his head, and as Bellatrix curled up beside him, he felt more human than he'd felt in his entire life. Something else screamed at him, more insistently than usual. Tell her, you fool. Tell her how you know you feel. Tell her now.
He licked his dry bottom lip, very unsure of whether he was about to lie. After all, he had never felt the things normal people did. Regret, shame… there were emotions so foreign to him that they might as well have been otherworldly. There were things he simply could not do or say or feel, because his inhuman soul wouldn't let him. But he had Bellatrix flush against him, and he did feel human now. He was human now. So he cleared his throat gently and tried to say the most dangerous, most terrifying words he'd ever spoken.
"Bellatrix… I…"
She raised her eyes to him, seeming concerned. She stroked at his scruffy cheek - his flawed, wrinkled, scratchy human cheek - and she murmured, "Yes, My Lord?"
He blinked, his lips shaking as his mind shrieked at him to tell her. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and failed. Finally, he managed to croak out,
"I'm going back to Blaize Bailey tonight. You were very right in scolding Lucius for his treatment of your sister. I shall reinforce that with an owl in the morning. Tomorrow night, I want you in my bed at home."
Bellatrix nodded, the corners of her lips turning up. "Of course, My Lord."
"Get some sleep, Bella," he said, kissing her forehead as he pulled himself out of the bed. He yanked on his trousers and his shirt, then his diaphanous robe. As he slipped on his shoes, Bellatrix tucked herself beneath the stark white blankets. He leaned over to kiss her lips, a fleeting but significant kiss. He stroked at her jaw, furious with himself for not being able to tell her what he was now relatively certain he knew.
"Goodnight, My Lord," she whispered, her breath warm and sweet on his lips. He nodded.
"Goodnight, Bella."
October 1973
Malfoy Manor
"My Lord, I would not have troubled you with this if it weren't… well. Perhaps it would be best if I simply let you look over the materials yourself."
Bellatrix frowned as Augustus Rookwood slid an elaborately carved wooden box across the desk in the office at Malfoy Manor where the Dark Lord worked sometimes. She turned to Voldemort and asked,
"Shall I go, My Lord?"
"No." He did wave his hand before him, though, and he said, "Rookwood, you may go wait elsewhere. I'll summon you if necessary."
"Of course, My Lord." Rookwood bowed deeply and then nodded politely to Bellatrix. He walked out of the office, shutting the door carefully behind him. Bellatrix studied the box on the desk and said,
"So this was delivered to the Department of Mysteries?"
"Yes. I looked into Rookwood's mind; he isn't lying," Voldemort affirmed. He dragged his fingers over the carved lid of the box. "It was addressed to the Dark Lord. They examined it for curses. I feel none. Let's open it, shall we?"
He glanced up to Bellatrix, who chewed her lip and nodded. Voldemort opened the box, his brows furrowing with confusion when the only thing inside was a scroll of parchment. He pulled the scroll out of the box and studied the black wax seal upon it. He broke the seal with his finger and unfurled the scroll, reading in silence for what felt like an interminable length of time. At long last, he gulped hard and wordlessly passed the scroll to Bellatrix. Her fingers trembled a bit as she took the parchment, and she began to read with worried eyes.
To My Most Beloved Master,
You asked me to keep you human, and that is what I am attempting here to do.
In 1980, you will receive a prophecy, delivered to you by your young spy Severus Snape. The prophecy will concern a boy you determine (correctly) to be Harry Potter, the son of Lily and James Potter. You will spend the next year searching for the boy. He is in Godric's Hollow. You will require the mind of Peter Pettigrew, the parents' Secret Keeper, to track the boy down.
In an attempt to kill the boy (who, according to the prophecy, posed a grave threat to you and your power), you will take out his parents. Your Killing Curse will rebound and destroy you. I know little more than that.
I dwell now without you, in November of the year 1981. You are gone, Master, and I've no idea what's become of you. My Lord, I write to beseech you to take careful steps with this prophecy and the boy it concerns. You asked me to keep you human, and for years I have done my best to obey you. Now that I have lost you, the only way I can think to follow your orders is to send you this letter. Gnavigo Charms, as it happens, are not just ancient and unreliable. They are essential. There was Paris. There was Venice and Vienna. There was Blaize Bailey. And now, I hope, there is this.
I send this with all the admiration and love I possess in my own wicked soul. Keep yourself human, Tom.
Bella
Bellatrix set the scroll down in the box and leaned heavily on the table. Her mind whirled and she thought she might faint or be sick. She blinked through the tears that had boiled up in her eyes and whispered,
"Something awful happens to you."
"It would seem as though future you is trying very hard to prevent that," Voldemort noted. He took Bellatrix's jaw gently in one hand and turned her face to his. He squared his jaw and said softly, "You have always been very best lieutenant. Loyal beyond measure. Capable and unafraid. Adoring. Beautiful. Mine in every single way. And if you've really just saved me from some kind of terrible destruction, then I owe you more than simple thanks. I owe you what you've earned. Your payment from me for years of bravery, for these months of ecstasy."
He kissed her, his lips just touching hers at first as she braced herself on his arms and let out a little sound of need. He deepened the kiss, finally pulling away as he whispered,
"I'll kill that Potter boy as soon as I can. I won't vanish from you or from my power. I will have everything, and I'll have it forever."
"Yes, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. He kissed her again, this time so ferociously that it hurt. He suckled her lip and squeezed her face, and Bellatrix couldn't find air for a moment. She gripped his arms desperately until he yanked himself away. He turned toward the window, dragging the back of his wrist over his mouth as he stared out the window at the autumn foliage in the gardens. He surprised Bellatrix by tipping his forehead against the glass and shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. He was barely audible when he spoke, but Bellatrix heard him clearly enough to nearly collapse with shock.
"I love you, Bellatrix."
She said nothing, leaning onto the desk again with one hand as her breath shook between her teeth. Lord Voldemort stared out the window and shrugged.
"Perhaps I don't. Who can say? I have no idea whether I'm even capable of such a thing. But it's the best word I've got for whatever you are to me."
"If that is the word you've got, My Lord, I gladly accept it," Bellatrix informed him. His eyes shut and he murmured,
"You'll marry Rodolphus Lestrange, but only because the Dark Lord can not have a wife. He will be well aware that the arrangement is in name only; you'll live with me at Blaize Bailey and you will be mine in perpetuity. Am I understood?"
Bellatrix's chest was about to burst with overwhelming glee. She nodded where she stood and said confidently,
"Yes, My Lord. I understand."
"Come here," he whispered, and she did. She walked over to him on wobbly legs, her arm tingling when he took it in his hands. He stood back from the window and pushed her sleeve up from her left wrist. He touched his lips to her Dark Mark, sending a shiver up her spine. He stared at the Mark, then at her eyes, and he asked her,
"Do you remember when I told you that time was a river? A flowing, crooked churn of water? Do you remember?"
She nodded. "Of course I remember, Tom."
His dark eyes flashed, and he told her, "Rivers have waterfalls. Rapids. Hazards. But people have boats, and you are mine. You have already kept me from disintegrating; it seems you'll rescue me more than once. For that, I am grateful, and for that I shall continue to adore you. It doesn't matter what it's called. It matter what it is. What… you are."
He wasn't making much sense, but Bellatrix could tell he was simply trying to put his powerful thoughts into speech. Words, she knew, were a feeble substitute for genuine emotion, even the stilted emotion experienced by the Dark Lord himself. When he kissed her again, though, she could feel it all flowing straight into her. She could feel his affection and his power. She could feel all they'd experienced together and all that would come next. She was his, and he was hers, in a way that he could never be anyone else's. Time had been their ally so far; it would be their ally going forward. There would be rapids and sticks in the silver splintered river, but she would be his boat. She would keep him human.
THE END.