"Bellatrix, let's go already, for Merlin's sake," Rodolphus hissed from the other side of her bedroom door, tapping on it once or twice. "I want to get out of this Hell house before your mother decides to hug me again!"

"She's your mother now too, Lestrange," Bellatrix commented snidely, running her hand over the black dress she had swapped her wedding dress for only moments earlier. The celebrations were coming to an end, and most of the guests had trickled out of the manor within the last hour or so. At the present time, Rodolphus and Bellatrix were supposed to bid their families one final farewell, then embark on their lovely honeymoon to Thailand.

Bellatrix had been the one to pick Thailand. Rodolphus was pushing for France or Spain, but those countries weren't quite far enough away from Britain to even be considered. She wanted somewhere hot, grungy and poor... Rodolphus settled for hot and grungy, but poor he wouldn't do, and she was annoyed to hear that he had found them a top-class hotel in the capital city for a few days, then a little villa out in the islands for the rest of the holiday. It was a compromise... Bellatrix hated to compromise.

"I don't understand why I am not allowed to come inside," he growled sourly from the hallway, a thud indicating his back was now to the door. "I'm your husband now... and it's not like I haven't seen any of that before."

"I just want two minutes to myself, all right?" she fired back, ripping out the hairpiece that held her lengthy dark hair up in that painfully tight bun. It tumbled free triumphantly, and she couldn't help but feel just a touch more relaxed. Her dress was rather thin and loose; her wedding dress had also been so tight that she was sure there were indentations all over her skin from it. The black dress tied up around her neck, with no sleeves, and simply hung loose down to her knees. It was what she felt like wearing, and whether Rodolphus approved of it or not, she would continue on wearing it.

"But, Bella..." he whined. Her eyes shot up to the door venomously, and she snarled, "You know not to call me that, Lestrange! Just... go wait for me downstairs! I'll be ready in twenty minutes!"

"But-"

"Go!"

There was a grumble muffled by the door, and she listened carefully to the sound of his shoes as he trudged off down the hallway and toward the staircase. When she was sure she was alone, Bella hastily grabbed her wand and apparated to a special place, one far away from her bedroom.

This was probably suicide. Going to the Dark Lord's personal home without any real purpose was not advised within the ranks, though it was known to happen. He liked to lecture his servants, when he wasn't terribly busy, and in the past he had been more open to them huddling around and listening to dark tales and stories. It was a strange feeling to do so. Lately, with the Ministry catching onto them and the Aurors finding more and more hidden hideouts, Voldemort was growing tense. His temper was short with failings, and he was less likely to give a Death Eater the time to simply talk, ask questions, or look for advice.

He had, lately, become obsessed with prophecies, and had been listening to the words of Seers and Diviners more than those of his inner-circle. Bellatrix wanted to reach out, help him, comfort him... There was a prophecy given as of late, that a boy born in July - this July, the July she chose to marry Rodolphus in - would lead to the downfall of her Lord and Master. Naturally it was all hogwash, and Bellatrix didn't believe it for a second, but the Dark Lord had grown... paranoid after hearing the words, and had become closed off. Not just to her, thankfully, but it felt like a personal attack when he wouldn't look at her. Wouldn't speak to her. Wouldn't touch her.

He was a decent man, one that refused to carry on an affair with a married woman. She felt as though she had wronged him by marrying Lestrange, but what other choice did she have? He wouldn't marry her, and if she did not have a wedding, one that her mother could see, she would never be free from her family. It was a lose-lose situation, if she was being brutally honest.

Slipping out of her old classroom quickly, the darkness beckoning her to linger and drag it in further to her soul, Bellatrix knew just where to find him. Her feet walked the path that they had gone many times before, up through the narrow corridors, past the gloomy paintings and into the doorway of his study. As she had expected, he was there. Even though the weather was roasting outside, he was clad in long pants and a white shirt, buttoned right to the second-last button, cuffs included. A fire crackled in the mantel, and he was standing over a table with a map of the United Kingdom spread out across it, quill in hand, and she assumed that he was marking new spots to hold their meetings. There were knots and crosses all over the large sheet of parchment, with little notes in his typical handwriting at the side. Nagini, the snake she loathed so very much, was curled on an arm chair in a tight coil, her tongue flickering out to taste the air every so often.

"You should be gone by now, Lady Lestrange," the Dark Lord said abruptly, his head still down as he leaned forward and circled a point on the map, writing something beside it in capital letters. "I granted you and your new husband a week without duty and charges... It angers me that you've decided to ignore that to come see me instead."

She tensed at his tone; it was calm. She hated it when he sounded calm; calm meant bottled up rage. It would have been better if he yelled, to be honest, because then she could fully understand just how infuriated with her he was. But no. He chose that tone of voice because he knew how well it instilled fear into his servants. The Dark Lord, as usual, knew exactly what he was doing.

"I wanted to thank you for the gracious offer you gave us," she informed him softly, stepping into the room, her bare feet quiet against the rug. "I don't understand why we deserve such kindness."

"Don't you?" he inquired, his eyes flickering up to hers momentarily, quill gripped tight in his fist, "Don't you realize why I am so giving with you, Bellatrix?"

Where had the nickname gone? Lost so long ago, it seemed. Her heartbeat picked up, and she felt her courage rise only slightly, "No, to be honest I don't."

His eyes narrowed and Nagini hissed from her spot on the chair; the tension in the room could be cut with anything. Bellatrix shifted from foot to foot, trying to hold his gaze for as long as she possibly could, but as always, she gave in first and bowed her head, "I don't mean to be insubordinate-"

"Yes you do," he snapped, causing her to flinch. "You know exactly what you are doing, Bellatrix, and I have every right to make you scream for it."

"Maybe you should... You always said you liked my scream-"

"Get out, Lestrange," he snarled, taking a step toward her. "Get out and go back to your husband. I'm sure he'll notice your absence. I don't want you to come back here... As it stands, unless you are invited, you are not welcome in my home."

"My Lord, please," she cried, falling to her knees in front of him, submissive for the only man who could make her be so. "Please... Don't banish me from here, from you-"

"You are always welcome in my presence, Bellatrix," he replied stiffly, reaching out and gently running the tips of his fingers along her wild hair, "but you are not welcome here. Not now, not ever again."

She clutched as his pants, "My Lord, please, just listen to me... You don't need to send me away! I won't be a bother-"

"And you know I won't continue this with a married woman!" he thundered. She instantly retracted her hands and scuttled away from him, her back hitting the wall quickly. Her breathing quickly as he descended upon her, wrenching his large hand into the mass of her hair and grasping it tightly. She cried out, her hands locking around his wrist before she even thought about it. As he began to haul her back toward the doorway, she quickly insisted, "You once said that through my marriage I'd have to give my body to Lestrange, which I have, and you said you'd keep my mind... My Lord, you still have my mind! You have my soul, my everything!"

He said nothing, only continued to drag her toward the door, and she released a sob when he yanked her out of his study, leaving her in a heap on the floor in the hallway. Turning on his heel, he stalked back inside and shut the door forcefully. Not ready to give up quite yet, she crawled forward, her fingertips carving out strange shapes in the wood of her barrier, "My Lord..."

Her voice cracked noisily, and she drew in a shaky breath, "Marriage is just a formality... Wife is just a title. It doesn't mean anything!"

And she waited. She waited for him to open the door and agree. She waited to hear some sort of movement inside. Pacing. Anything! But there was nothing, only the sound of the occasion quill scratching on parchment, boisterously echoing in the stillness. When nothing came, she used the wall for support as she dragged herself weakly to her feet, watching the door for another minute or so before apparating back home directly from the hallway, landing in her bathroom. It was then she took the time to clean up her appearance, ensure that her dress didn't look too ruffled, and whip the make-up trail from under her eyes. Once that was taken care of, she hastily threw a black shawl over her dress and made a dash for downstairs. She was dressed for a funeral, and Bella knew it.

Something had died that day.