Something felt wrong. He seemed different. Bellatrix knew in her heart that something had changed the man she loved, because only a week after their passionate overnighter, he almost vanished within himself. It was so remarkable and frightening. Naturally, he could do as he pleased. This wouldn't be the first time that her lord and master demanded time to himself, but something felt different about it this time. He was on edge. All of their meetings usually ended with someone tortured for the most insignificant failing. Naturally, he ought to punish people who failed, but there were times when even Bellatrix wanted to question the extent to which he broke his servants. He hadn't called her back to him. Whenever she dropped by unannounced, he was never home, and rumours circulated that he was spending a great deal of time traveling the United Kingdom, searching for something. Bellatrix was privy to far more private information than many, and she was unwilling to listen to mere gossip about the man she loved, but when he barely gave her anything to go off of, what other choice did she have? He had become too distant for her liking, and every time she was near him, hidden beneath her mask, she felt a terrible longing to reach out and touch him, taste him, and beg to be let into his world once more.

The rest of her world felt decidedly normal, which was on the equivalence of boring. She and Rodolphus had quickly become what they were before her accident; complacent partners in a marriage. When she told him they were even, she meant it. Her hatred of him lessened, and she permitted him to share her bed once more, though was exceptionally snarky when he tried to initiate any kind of intimacy. As if he had earned that right. Ha. In a way, Bellatrix felt highly superior to her husband in many ways. Although he had fucked some skinny bitch from his office, he certainly didn't love her. Unfortunately, Bellatrix was far too aware of his love for her, which almost made it pathetic compared to her great love and desire for the Dark Lord. Rodolphus could pine all he wished, but he was never going to earn a place in her heart after the stunt he pulled. She tolerated him. He was clever, witty, and always knew how to make her smile darkly with his own twisted sort of humour. In some lights, he was even attractive, but he paled considerably whenever she compared him directly to her lover. He was brilliant. The Dark Lord was everything that Rodolphus could never be, and she wondered when he would come to accept that. It was starting to become tiresome whenever he attempted to woo her back to bed after a glass or two of wine at dinner.

However, despite his pathetic failed attempts at romance, Rodolphus proved to be a fine match for her in darker circles. Although it bothered her, they were often put together when the Dark Lord had an assignment, and they performed exemplary work. The mask held her distaste for her husband well, a permanent frown on her lips whenever the Dark Lord insisted that the Lestranges, plural, see to a stakeout or quiet murder of a politician… or the horrible gruesome murder of a Muggle family. There were others that she knew sat well with her master, but Bellatrix was quite aware of the Lestrange family status among his followers. Unfortunately, that meant Rodolphus too. A small part of her hoped that the Dark Lord would find a way to punish her husband for making her feel so terrible inside, but he didn't. He was still invited to meetings, both public and private. The Dark Lord greeted him with the same aloof tone he used with Bella when everyone else was around, and punished them both equally for a folly. It was almost frustrating, but she knew everything that her master did had a purpose. Perhaps he decided that simply having an affair with a man's wife was enough to punish him.

Unfortunately, there hadn't been much of an affair as of late. Although, just because the physical aspects had cooled certainly didn't mean that Bellatrix had stopped emotionally involving herself with the man. Never again would her heart, love, or desires belong to the man who had a ring on her finger. For now, it was an emotional affair. The Dark Lord had her mind, body and soul. She only hoped that, in time, she might have something of his that could be considered somewhat equal to everything she gave him.

Maybe he could get them uniforms that didn't itch like mad. Bellatrix grunted softly under her breath as she tried desperately to seem like one of the mass of masked Death Eaters, but the itch on her back was making it almost impossible. To make matters worse, her thick gloves concealed her nails wonderfully, and wearing nothing beneath the damn robe seemed like one of her less bright ideas. However, she had hoped that once the meeting was over, she might be able to catch the Dark Lord before he left and entice him into another romp in a graveyard. After all, it had been rather thrilling the last time.

"Bellatrix," her husband hissed softly, nudging her with his elbow. "Stop fidgeting."

"Piss off," she snapped, finally reaching some sort of happy spot as she rubbed her gloved thumb against her back, willing her lengthy, perfectly pointed nail to break through the material and give her some relief. She heard Lucius chuckle on her other side, his characteristic laugh the only thing giving him away.

With a roll of her eyes, Bellatrix glanced at the graveyard's majestic clock; he had kept them waiting for almost an hour. It wasn't as though she objected to the Dark Lord being late, but it was the middle of summer, and on top of these dratted cloaks being terribly itchy, they were a little too thick, even for English weather. Mind you, they weren't in England. He had summoned them to a desolated graveyard outside a Muggle village in Wales, which, when they arrived, had been completely desecrated. She assumed it was his handiwork, but she was quite curious to know what caused him to lose his temper and massacre an entire village. On their way through, she and Rodolphus poked their heads into shattered windows of homes and noted that there were only a few dead bodies, while the rest may have been burned in a fire thriving in the town square.

Although they hadn't been directly summoned to the graveyard, Bellatrix decided that was where they should meet with him. Everyone else wandered for a bit, searching for their master, and eventually joined her there. Although no one said it, she was sure they all knew Bellatrix was the one who knew their master best. Mind you, there might have been a few who believed they were at an elevated status, but they were only deluding themselves into such a ridiculous fantasy.

"Maybe he isn't coming…"

Bellatrix glared in the direction of the ridiculous individual who dared question the Dark Lord's tardiness, and then scoffed loudly enough for them all to hear. There were only about eight members present, his inner circle, and she guessed the voice belonged to that idiot Goyle fellow her husband seemed intent on keeping some sort of friendship with. She certainly didn't care who he was acquainted with, but when he suggested the pair head over to the Goyles one night for drinks with the man and his wife, Bellatrix nearly slammed her fork into his hand. Since then, he has smartly kept such absurd suggestions to himself.

"Should we leave?"

"We will wait days for the Dark Lord," Bellatrix snapped loudly, "or do you find your loyalty fading? I'll be sure to tell him if that's the case!"

"Now, now, Bella, there's no need for that."

The tension among the masks was delicious as they turned back to see their master strolling toward them, a decidedly neutral expression on his face.

"Lord Voldemort knows who is faithful, and who is simply impatient," he informed them as they all bowed. He swept through the group, each member parting to allow him to pass. Through the wide, dark sockets of her mask, Bellatrix willed him to look at her. Touch her. Anything. However, he simply carried on to the front of the small crowd, his cloak billowing in the breeze. She wrinkled her nose when she felt something push her aside into her husband, and glared at Fenrir Greyback as he hauled two rather bloodied wizards along. He deposited them at the Dark Lord's feet, and then looked up expectantly. Her master, meanwhile, studied the ground in front of him, and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Only when the werewolf trotted away did he give him any attention, which seemed immensely pleasing to Bella.

The creature had been so reluctant to give up his power as the head of his half-breed pack of wolves, and yet less than a year later he sniveled at her master's heels like a dog. He saw the Dark Lord's power and knew it was the right side to choose. They all did. It was only a matter of time before the weak and strong succumbed to him.

"I'm sure you are all wondering what happened to the village," the Dark Lord sighed, gesturing back to the smoldering remains with a half-hearted wave. "Those who betray us must be punished."

One of the men at his feet sobbed, making Bella wrinkle her nose in distaste. The other simply shook, curled up in a fetal position at her master's feet, staring into nothing. They both looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't recall a name. Not that she knew everyone, but the people that mattered tended to stick out in her mind.

"Clarence Barrows and Finn Phillips were two men who slowly leaked information about our suppliers in Dublin to the Ministry," the Dark Lord informed them.

Bellatrix clenched fists, instantly enraged. How dare someone do that? While many of the Death Eaters were well-funded by their families, there seemed to be fewer than she initially thought, and the Dark Lord was shrewd enough to set up illegal dealings with all sorts of shady, but well-supplied, merchants around the United Kingdom and Ireland. They were necessary to get large orders of goods to account for all the new members. However, if their suppliers were arrested because of their association with the Dark Lord, they would struggle to combat both the Ministry and the pesky Order of the Phoenix that had sprung up frequently in her dealings.

"They sought refuge in this very village," he continued, gesturing to it once more, "and the people took them in. A dear friend of mine insisted they were praised for their stealth… for the ingenious way they cheated the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. There was a celebration for their heroism… their bravery. Was there not?"

He poked the weeping man with his foot, who merely sobbed harder in return. Pitiful. Bellatrix scoffed loudly in disbelief, hoping he heard.

"Betrayers are punished," the Dark Lord murmured as he took a step back from the men. His eyes shot up, bright like electricity, and spread his arms, "Who would like to punish them?"

Travers spoke first, followed by a chorus of other voices. Bellatrix said nothing. Instead, she shoved passed the man in front of her and pointed her wand directly at the pathetic sobbing man, her curse landing directly at his side. He howled his pain, arching back as her might ravaged his body. The others took it as a cue, and within seconds several other Death Eaters had joined her, while the remainder worked on his friend. She wasn't a fan of group torture sessions, preferring to take the credit for herself whenever a person broke under a wand. However, the look of sheer glee on her master's face was enough to keep her complacent as she and three others tortured the traitor into oblivion.

Finally, the Dark Lord stepped in, calling them off to deliver the final killing stroke to both men. She felt arousal stir. He was so masterful, so brilliant, so perfect… He was also, surely, sending a message to the members of his inner circle. Should someone be stupid enough to betray him, everyone would turn on them, and in a matter of minutes they would cease to exist.

"Keep an ear out for dissent," he said softly, each Death Eater surely straining to hear. "The Ministry is frightened of me. Their lies are spreading fear of the wrong sort to people who once swore loyalty. All traitors are equal. Remember."

He looked everyone in the eye as he spoke, easily navigating through the masks he no doubt knew well, and then gave a final nod. It was dismissive, and she already felt people fanning out around her.

"Severus," he called. "A moment."

She watched as the Dark Lord turned away and sauntered into the depths of the graveyard, pausing to examine an inscription on a headstone. A lithe figure glided out from the group, and she knew it was Snape. Several others around her were removing their masks to prepare for their travels. Lips pursed, she pulled off her hood unceremoniously and removed her mask. Rodolphus did the same beside her, but she bypassed him and hurried after the Dark Lord, overtaking Snape in the process.

He must have heard her heavy footsteps, because he paused and turned around, his charismatic eyes finding hers quickly. Her lips trembled as she closed in on him, hoping that he could sense what she was after. However, he merely stared down at her, and then sighed, "Are you Severus Snape?"

She blinked in surprise, taken aback by the annoyance in his tone, and then frowned, "No, my lord-"

"Then if I am not mistaken, you were dismissed."

Bella stood in front of him still, unable to leave, and she took a deep breath, "My lord, it's been so long-"

"Lestrange," he barked, making her flinch, "please collect your wife."

That breath hitched in her throat almost painfully, but he seemed to avoid any more direct eye contact with her. An arm curled around her waist, and she felt Rodolphus tug her away, "Of course, my lord. Have a pleasant evening."

Her feet were like cinder blocks when he dragged her away, and only after Snape had joined the Dark Lord did she finally manage to walk on her own. How… How could he say something like that? He wasn't one to put on an act for anyone, and yet there he was, admonishing her in a way that truly hurt her being.

"Get off me," she snarled suddenly, shoving her husband away from her. "You're embarrassing me."

He scoffed loudly as he grabbed hold of her arm and hauled her away from their apparating point, "I'm embarrassing you? Bellatrix, you should see yourself! Fawning over him, running after him… Any thought of what it looks like for me?"

"I don't care," she replied angrily. "Let go!"

Much to her surprise, she found them in front of a tomb, the cracked doorway slightly ajar. Before she could really put her foot down, he shoved her through the small opening. Bellatrix stumbled forward a little, her boots unsteady on the gravel. One lone stone coffin inhabited the rather ostentatious tomb, but it seemed that the decay of time won in the end. Parts of the roof had already fallen in, and she kicked a piece of rubble irritably.

"You should care about what it looks like to the rest of them," he snapped at her suddenly, his grip now pinching her arm again. "They talk… We should be united, not weakened by your willingness to bed another man!"

"Don't talk about it like I climb onto anyone that walks by," she sneered, eyes narrowing. "I thought we had come to an understanding on this matter."

"I am compliant with your… desire to serve him," Rodolphus hissed. "I haven't said a word about what you deign necessary to do on your own time, but when we are in front of them, we should be a team!"

"I don't want to be on your team," she cooed, her eyes glinting dangerously in the beam of moonlight.

"You should."

"Why?"

"Because that's what marriage made us," he half-shouted, hands thrown up in the air in exasperation as he stalked away from her.

"Don't spout your marriage nonsense as if it applies to us," she barked. "We both know it doesn't."

He stormed across the empty tomb and took hold of both arms, giving her a bit of a shake. She cocked an eyebrow, bored, and then sighed, "Is there something else you want to add? I think I'll go home and take a bath if you're finished..."

"And stew over tonight's rejection?"

Her jaw dropped a little, but before she could get her biting retort out, Rodolphus dipped his head down and pressed his lips firmly against hers. Eyes wide, Bellatrix squealed beneath the pressure of them, a pair of lips that almost felt unfamiliar having steered clear of them for so long. He made a move to deepen the kiss, altering the pressure for brief second in an attempt to press her further. However, a hard, swift kick to the shins managed to get him off, and she stumbled back as though physically repulsed by him.

"You can't blame me, can you?" he asked, panting a little. "We always had fantastic angry sex."

Although she wished it hadn't, the memory of some of their more sordid past dalliances tugged at her arousal once again. However, it was quite easy to suppress, and with a glare, she stalked away and out of the tomb. In the distance, she spotted the Dark Lord and Snape speaking together still. All feelings of anger toward Rodolphus faded, and she felt an immense sadness take their place. How could he push her away for this long? And why was he so interested in Snape as of late? This wasn't the first time he had beckoned the young man to him after a meeting, and it was starting to grate her nerves.

She planned to make the little boy talk, one way or another. Therefore, with her incident with her husband completely banished from her mind, she shot Snape a grin before leaving the graveyard, plans formulating quickly.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

So this wasn't how the chapter was originally supposed to end, but I decided to rework it after I came to the conclusion this story needs to be longer. I originally planned to end it in about three chapters, but I've changed my mind. So it'll be longer now! Sorry for the lengthy update lags between chapters. The muse is SO hit and miss with this story… sometimes it's there when I start writing, and leaves about twenty minutes in. Fail.

Anywho. I'm fairly sure people can guess what time period this is happening in based on Voldemort's behaviour. I'm also pretty sure I majorly messed up the timeline in the original story, Lovers in a Dangerous Time, and therefore the ages and whatnot don't quite fit. I'm trying to work around it the best I can.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL! Love, love, love!