Blood and Crystal

by Lady Stella Black

Sequel to "Bella and the Beast." AU. Bellamort. Bellatrix should be happy to finally be with Voldemort and even having his child, right? Unfortunately, a new prophecy threatens to tear apart their new normal. And what happens when the witch burnings and disappearances begin? Do the Blacks fight for what they know or join with the Order against a new enemy? On hiatus.

7. Chapter 7: Lullabies

Chapter 7: Lullabies

August 1998

Slytherin Manor

Entrance Hall

"You fail to understand the seriousness of what you have done...and yet you have nothing to say for yourself?"

Voldemort grabbed at a tuft of Bellatrix's hair and pulled, dragging her along the taupe-colored stone floor behind him.

"ANSWER ME WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU!" He yanked on her hair again, but Bellatrix only emitted a quiet moan. He wanted to kick her, hurt her, punish her, but now he had the baby to think about. Her baby. Their baby. His heir. But still, violence shuddered through him to his core. Even though deeper down, he knew (though he'd never admit it to her) that he was impressed. He'd never seen anyone have control over fiendfyre the way she did. The three light side blood traitors disapparated when he arrived, leaving only Bellatrix and Narcissa trapped in a bar that was rapidly burning to the ground...but the way she seemed to pull it all back into her wand, he'd never seen anything like it. Worse and more incredible still, he'd never done anything like it.

"I'm waiting for you to hurt me," Bellatrix said, and he was brought back to the present moment by the dull look in her eyes.

"You still haven't told me why you think you should be hurt."

"You know why."

"I want to hear it from you," said Voldemort. She sighed.

"I disobeyed you. I left the Manor. I went out in the open, blew our secret, let the light side see me. I endangered Narcissa...endangered you…" Even though I didn't need you to save me….he heard her think without attempting to control it.

"I'm not going to hurt you. At least, not physically. But as punishment for your insolence...do you recall when I took your memories?"

"Is that supposed to be a threat? Because I know you wouldn't do that to me again," she said and then clamped a hand over her mouth knowing she said something she shouldn't have. Something she never would have gotten away with had their situation not been so delicate. She looked up at him from her position lying on her back on the cold floor, her hair splayed out all around her like the snakes of Medusa.

"I need to think. Meet me in the Armory in three hours. There and then, I will decide what to do with you."

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The first night Bellatrix and Voldemort had sex, the entire world might have been on fire and she wouldn't have noticed. It was everything Bellatrix had ever wanted, and she worried he never wanted, all in one. But her breath was hot shrouding her own face with how desperately horny she was. The room was red and the bed posts were red and the bed linens, all black, though covered in so many rose petals one couldn't tell. Two altars on either side of the bed dedicated to the dark king and queen, respectively. Red pillar candles shaped like sex organs. Rose incense. Cinnamon. Cloves. All those things that smelled wonderful to her-and then she was cuffed to the bed in chains not even magic could break because she didn't want to be able to pull herself away from him. He climbed onto the bed and she held her breath because otherwise she thought she would explode if he were not inside of her right away.

And then he was ripping off her clothes. Nothing was tender. But Bella thought she might orgasm the second he touched her. But he didn't touch her. He squeezed her until all the blood vessels in her thighs might have popped but still she was there, blinking hard and fast up at him. She reached to take off his clothes, but the chains pulled her back and so he swatted her away and took off his own clothes while she watched with as much lust and longing as had built up and ravaged her body since she was that teenager moaning in her sleep dreaming about him, learning to make herself feel happy and pleasured when no one else could. She needed to love herself so that one day, she could teach him how to love her…

There was no foreplay. He shoved her against the mattress with the full force of the palms of his hands and when he entered her, she had to squeeze her eyes shut because she hadn't expected it to hurt like that. He pushed himself in deeper and the hurt went away as she let him have her. Joyfully, exuberantly, she gave herself to him.

All the while, she struggled against her old (though not altogether ill-founded) anxieties-he doesn't love you, he will never love you, you're just a servant. A servant and a whore. But that night, she was the happiest whore in the world.

Bellatrix woke up with a sudden start. Panting, she felt her whole body shudder as she orgasmed, fully-clothed, on a cold and uncomfortable surface. Were dreams about Voldemort always going to be like that? Voldemort...where was he? Straining a bit, Bellatrix pulled herself into a sitting position. She still had a tingling feeling below her waist, but what embarrassed her most about it was that she was very much alone in the middle of the Entrance Hall to the home she shared with her...her husband. Another shudder coursed through her, but this time it wasn't centered around her vagina...but a little higher...and vibrating. At once, the palm of her hand flew to her lower belly where she felt it...light at first, and then more persistent. Something inside of her was...moving.

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August 1998

Slytherin Manor

The Armory

"Bellatrix, I need you to drink this." It was dark in the Armory. The only lights Voldemort had lit were the torches on either side of his potion-making table. Even the glittering smoke pit at the center of the room was only emitting a few soft plumes. His eyes were so dark that there in the shadows, they looked like two empty sockets in the skull of a long-dead snake. She didn't dare admit that in that moment, coupled with the fact that she already knew she was in trouble with him, he was scaring her a little bit.

"My Lord...Voldemort...what is it?"

"Don't you trust me?" He hissed, holding out a steaming flask of a clear potion. Bellatrix swallowed hard.

"With my life."

"Then do as I say." She nodded and took the flask, bringing it to her lips. The potion was smoky and cold like dry ice, but had the consistency of gel sliding down her throat as she drank it down. Was he poisoning her? Of all the ways to kill her...or maybe it was some kind of elaborate, painful punishment, something to cause some humiliating change in her appearance? But nothing seemed to be happening. She downed the last few drops of the strange, tasteless, odorless potion and with some trepidation, set the empty flask down on the table. Voldemort tilted his head to one side and looked at her, then came around the table to stand next to her. She swallowed hard again. Was this it? Was this the moment? But he didn't touch her.

"Show me your arm," he commanded. Nodding quickly, Bellatrix rolled up her left sleeve to reveal her dark mark, but Voldemort frowned.

"No, your other arm." Now she was really confused. But she obeyed all the same and lifted her right sleeve. To her surprise, a single dark blue line was etched there on her wrist, like a hair tie she couldn't slide off.

"You know what this means?"

"No...I….No," she said, as realization dawned on her. She had seen a line like this before. On Narcissa's wrist. Eighteen years ago. "It can't be...I can't be…"she repeated, stumbling over her words. The getting sick. The strange moods. The...She clamped her palm over her lower abdomen again where again, she felt a shudder.

"Bella. My Bella...Inside you right now, you carry the heir to the darkness," said Voldemort...and then he did something that really surprised her, something she'd hardly ever seen him do before. Voldemort, the Dark Lord, smiled.

Suddenly, Bellatrix had about a million questions burning holes into her being-How? Why us? Why now? Is it really...could it really be? What next? What does it all mean? How did you know? What are we going to do? They couldn't keep it, could they? But all that seemed able to come out of her then, were tears.

Voldemort didn't know why Bellatrix was crying. After all, how many times had she expressed the wish that the two of them have children together? How often lately had they been wishing for a path out of the muddled war they were currently navigating? And what better path then to have a child with the power of the both of them all in one, a child to carry on everything if anything happened...an heir to the darkness, a shining light in its own right, there at just the proper moment to save them. But Bellatrix didn't seem to register any of this. Instead, she stood there in front of him, arms crossed defensively in front of her heart, letting her tears fall freely from her eyes and down her cheeks, where they dropped one by one into the deep furrow of her cleavage.

He couldn't tell her how he knew. He couldn't tell her about Fiona, even though it worried him that the swamp witch knew before either of them. Sighing, Voldemort wrapped one arm tightly around Bella's middle and apparated them both into the soothing cool of their bedroom.

Slowly, he undressed her, first slipping off her shoes and taking off her dress, then undoing her corset, unhooking her bra and slipping her out of her lingerie, all the while massaging different parts of her exposed skin with the pads of his fingertips. He wasn't thinking about it too much...just doing what he felt he needed to. But still, she said nothing. Just kept on crying.

"Beautiful, Bella. Beautiful, beautiful Bella," Voldemort whispered. "Sleep now, my dark queen, and dream."

~Rest, sweet nymphs, let golden sleep

Charm your star-brighter eyes

Thus, dear damsels, I do give

Good night, and so am gone;

With your hearts' desires long live,

Still joy and never mourn.

Lullaby, lullaby~