Anger didn't go far in this case. To have a divorced woman in the family was an absolute dishonour. Nothing similar had ever taken place among the Black, and as much as she detested these traditions that got in her way, her greed was stronger, and she felt like she had do cling to her family's power and to Rodolphus at least for now.

She longed for her admired Master to realize what a nuisance her husband was to her, but all she could conclude from his position was that blood was to stay pure and Rodolphus's was not to be shed.

She knew better. She knew so much better than marriage, than looking after children, than hiding behind a husband's large back when there was hardly anything he could do for her. She was not like Narcissa, who grew out to look beautiful and love her son. Deep down Rodolphus simply wanted an heir, but he knew Bellatrix would never provide it. How would her womb carry a helpless, boneless child? She, set out to conquer? It angered him beyond any other particular issue, and had Bellatrix ever been frail, she would certainly say this was why he cheated on her so often.

She took another sip of the glass of wine Rodolphus had offered and squinted her eyes.

Perhaps if he died...

Covering it up amidst a war couldn't be so difficult. Besides, she often wondered how much her being married to Rodolphus wasn't in fact holding her back from a field of vast opportunities, her own path. He was really tricky to drag along the track she had set out to trail, and for most parts, an actual obstacle. It would be for her cause, and consequently for the Lord's cause, to empower him with much more than pawns - a Queen herself.

Perhaps if he got sick...

Oh, but it would be so much easier to scythe him on a battlefield. Accidentally leaving him with more foes than allies was actually quite simple, however unpredictable.

She took another sip and realised he was still in the room.

- ... Yaxley asked me if he could have a little time alone with that thing, and I said-

- Darling?

- Yes?

- Haven't you wondered if its breed is capable of bearing a child?

- If it is, then I'm not really sure what bothers you. The Lord probably knows this already, and has given it to me so that I could use it as a surrogate womb.

Bellatrix gathered strength to smile. It nearly cracked her face.

- As much as I trust the Lord's capacities, I don't believe a wizard's ever accomplished such a quick analysis of a half-bred.

- What are you suggesting?

- Merely that the thing was meant to be disposed of, and perhaps that - she paused for a sip - was our Lord's true intention.

Rodolphus leered at her angrily.

- It was our Lord's prize to me, and I will keep it for as long as I wish.

- I think you meant it was our Lord's prize to us, dear. - Bellatrix gave him that same fake smile and spoke with a screeching voice again. - And I will make sure to ask his thoughts on this matter.

- Take it to the Lord, he probably has nothing else to worry about!

- Surely you wouldn't want an atrocity such as a half-human heir?

- A half-human heir is still better than NO heir!

Rodolphus banged his fist on the table. Bellatrix opened her mouth in hatred, how quickly he would lose it!, ready to force that whining baby back into his place, as he sighed heavily, emptied his glass and got up, staring at her.

- I'm going to the cellar and you keep it clean and fed, 'cause THAT - he pointed his index finger right to Bellatrix's face - is your real job.

Clean and fed, he said. Yet another child to look after.

She postponed the task for as many days as she could. Rather, left the idea for a background clockwork machinery of her brain to work. So at some point it would flourish. It had to flourish. I'd like to say Bellatrix resisted.

She and Rodolphus hadn't talked to each other since their short discussion, and as much as Death Eaters guests kept going downstairs to celebrate some victory by tasting Rodolphus's "vin spumus", as he liked to call it, she refused to care for his pet.

The other Death Eaters' wives, unlike Bellatrix, simply sat quietly sipping tea at their own homes, ignorant of everything. The only one who had to endure those useless shoving-at-her-face displays of manly pride was her, and it would never have disturbed her to the least, had she not been so powerless to fight back.

Luckily, or sadly, this subject of cheating never fell on her meek social circle, which was forced upon her by Narcissa, just for the sake of it. But it did mean seeing her sister less often out of some grudge for punishing her, the older sister, with pathetic household talks. So it dawned as boredom consuming.

As much as she would love to be of her Lord's service, it didn't soothe it, either, to be sent out in the open along with that scum of Snatchers that thought a bag of gold would carry them swiftly to glory. Not she. Not Bellatrix.

She wrote softly on the parchment she had crumpled a while before, and then uncrumpled, for ideas were coming all back. Bellatrix... Black...

Any slow death is trickier to blame on the other side, she thought. It gave people the time to think.

Bella... trix... Black...

But oh, the tragedy. The quill ran scratching the fabric of the parchment, stretching blots of black ink along the pale surface. She heard that sound the quill made as it scarred the parchment forever.

Bella... trix...

Inch by inch thoughts formed groups of letters, gathered up and then rearranged. She would carry on, and the shine of fresh ink would smile at her, curves beckoned. The idea escaped, and came back, full speed.

It was a brilliant idea since Rodolphus was not around. Even if he had left for an errand with no time for getting back. She couldn't care less; it was rather convenient for what she had in mind, her husband going away and losing interest in his latest novelty. Probably for another woman, yet younger than the one before. How old was their pet? Eighteen? And by now misery and pain must have sucked out the air between that forsaken being and death. It thrilled Bellatrix to imagine the brutal traces of abuse under the almost virgin white skin it hid in. What could be left of it?

She remembered why she had desired it in the first place, and dragged herself through her memory, digging the quill deep in the parchment almost without noticing. Like a sacrifice, it had come to them in the war front almost willingly.

Did the little white fluffy lamb have fantasies with the dark side? She nearly choked in excitement.

Even though her black heart rang in her ear, she held herself together and walked slowly to the back of the house, through the dining-room and the kitchen, finally to stand before the dark cellar door. She giggled. It had been so long since she last felt these rushes of adrenaline.