"Oh, Unicorn Blood spilled on black earth beside me and petals of roses scattered all the way round, as witches so beautiful fall to their knees on the hard and unfeeling dark forested ground."
Bellatrix hummed along to the song playing on her record player, one of the newest releases from the somewhat gloomy wizarding folk ensemble The Doxies. Andromeda and Narcissa hated their music, but they were off shopping for new robes in Diagon Alley with Druella, and Bellatrix's father was working at Gringott's, so Bellatrix had the house to herself at the moment. She flipped absently through a copy of Witch Weekly, not caring terribly much about the advertisements for Sob-Proof Mascara from Madam Primpernelle's or the latest gold hoop earrings imported from the goblins of Peru. For a while she distractedly read an article about how the hemlines of many fashionable witches' casual robes had shortened in line with Muggle fashion, and how that had created something of a scandal. She kept humming along to the music of The Doxies, until her bedroom door creaked open and she yelped, sitting upright from where she'd been reclining against her pillows on her bed.
"Kip!" she exclaimed. "Can't you knock first?"
"Kip did knock, Miss Bellatrix, but got no reply," Kip the House-Elf said helplessly over the din of the music. Bellatrix, feeling annoyed, rose from her bed, leaving her magazine lying open on the messy blankets. She went over to her record player and turned the volume down so she could hear Kip, and she snapped,
"What is it?"
"A visitor has been waiting for quite some time to see you, Miss Bellatrix, so Kip has gone ahead and brought him upstairs to you at long last."
Bellatrix's stomach twisted as Kip hopped aside and pushed the door open, and then Lord Voldemort peered round the bedroom door and smirked.
"Shall I continue waiting in the parlour?" he asked, but Bellatrix gasped and shook her head frantically.
"N-No, My Lord. Please come in." She wished then that she had been able to use magic to snap her bed to rights the way she quickly neatened her dormitory bed at Hogwarts, or that she'd had time to comb some Sleekeazy's through her curls. She was a bit of a mess, she knew, sitting here at home in a simple cotton black sundress with her wild hair hanging about her shoulders. But as Voldemort stepped into the bedroom and murmured to Kip that he could go, he looked very hungry. He appeared much, much more put together than Bellatrix. He had on lightweight but neatly tailored robes of deep green linen with a bit of black velvet trim, and he wore a black wool tunic and matching breeches with shiny black dragonhide boots. His dark hair had been side-parted and shone with pomade, and his face appeared very freshly shaven, though it was nearly noon. Bellatrix's heart hammered as he approached her; he smelled of cologne, of citrus and incense and vetiver. It was utterly intoxicating, and Bellatrix's lips parted helplessly as she found herself badly wanting a kiss. He closed the gap between them and cupped her jaw in his hand, bending down to touch his lips to hers, and she let out a cracked little noise of want against his mouth, finally whispering in the shared air between them,
"Hello, Master."
"Hello, Bella." He just stood there for a long moment, seeming to soak her in, stroking at her jaw and planting a few more soft kisses upon her full lips. He touched his forehead to hers, and she noticed that his breath trembled just a little through his nostrils. Finally he pulled back and seemed to gather himself, and he quirked up his lips as he noted,
"No one else is here."
She laughed a little and threw up her hands. "I confess I ran a bit wild, having the place to myself. Poor Kip couldn't even get me to answer the door. I'm sorry; I was listening to loud music. It's silly stuff; my sisters hate it."
He turned toward the record player and listened for a moment, tipping his head and then giving a knowing smile before nodding. "The Doxies."
She frowned, confused. "How did you know, My Lord?"
"Mmm. They seem to your taste," was all he said in reply. He licked his lips and turned back to Bellatrix as he said, "I came for several reasons. I had meant to discuss your dowry with your father; I need to sign a transfer of those funds just a bit ahead of schedule as a down payment on a place Hamish and Hamish found for me."
Bellatrix felt her face light up. "You've got us a home."
Half his mouth turned up, and he looked a little abashed. "Don't get too excited. It's not like the place I… not quite as grand as perhaps I'd hoped. Still, it'll be a fine domestic home whilst I maintain a public office at Malfoy Manor."
Bellatrix's stomach quivered with excitement. On instinct, she reached for Voldemort's cheeks and put herself up on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips to his jaw. She let out a little giggle of excitement and asked,
"Will you tell me about the house, My Lord?"
She felt his fingers knot into her wild curls, and when she pulled back a little to stare up at him, there was abject longing in his gaze. He huffed a breath and shook his head minutely, admitting in a voice that seemed distant and just a little sorrowful,
"I never could have imagined, Bella, that you and I would… that, you know, I would find myself here, right now, talking with you about this. You must realise how unexpected this all is for me."
She felt fear shake through her then, and she worried that he deeply regretted agreeing to marry her after knowing her for so short a while. Of course it was all very silly, she reckoned. He was a powerful ascending politician with aspirations of battle and dominance. She was just a simple little girl, useless and stupid. She felt her face fall, but Voldemort quickly bent to draw her up in a kiss. His lips pressed firmly to hers as his fingers massaged her scalp, and when he stood again, he told her,
"What I mean, Bella, is that this is something of a dream realised for me. Perhaps you'll understand someday. Perhaps not. It doesn't matter. Our home is called Praelia House. It's a red brick Georgian manor on forested land outside Kidderminster in Worcestershire. It was recently renovated and came up for sale. I've signed preliminary paperwork. I think you will quite like it."
"Oh." She felt a tear worm out of her eye then, and she nodded as he swept it away with his thumb. "Thank you, Master."
His hands fell from her then, and he let out a long breath as he reached into his robes. He pulled something out then, and Bellatrix flinched in confusion, thinking he was drawing his wand on her. But instead she watched his throat bob as he reached for Bellatrix's left hand and, with fluid movements, pushed something onto the fourth finger. Bellatrix gasped and took a half step back, holding her hand out before her.
Then she could not breathe, for the ring he'd placed on her finger was absolutely exquisite. Bellatrix turned her hand a little and examined it, her voice fluttering as she whispered,
"My Lord, it is… it is magnificent. You made this yourself?"
"So I did," Voldemort said, his chest puffing up a little. He dragged his fingers over the ring. "The salt and pepper diamond took a bit of work - getting it that shade of slate from the coal I started with. The smaller diamonds were easier. The metalwork was no trouble; I practised it extensively when repairing things working at Borgin and Burke's. I did slightly blacken the white gold. It was far too bright and shiny at first for you, I thought."
"It is perfect, My Lord," Bellatrix breathed. She studied the rosecut salt and pepper diamond in the centre of the ring, surrounded by a halo of pointed clear diamonds. There were small diamonds running all around the band, which almost looked like tarnished silver. The entire creation was moody and gothic, a perfect fit round Bellatrix's finger and a perfect fit for her personality. Bellatrix's eyes seared like fire as she raised them to her master, and she whispered, "Thank you so much."
He opened his mouth like he meant to answer her, but then there was loud knocking on the open door, and Bellatrix snapped to attention to see Kip standing there. Voldemort walked briskly to Bellatrix's record player and pulled the needle off, silencing The Doxies. Kip looked from Voldemort to Bellatrix and said carefully,
"Miss Bellatrix, Master Cygnus has come home and kindly requests both of you join him for a light meal of cucumber sandwiches and carrot salad."
Bellatrix looked to Voldemort, who smirked and nodded at her. "Well. Let's go see about your dowry, then."
He reached for her hand, the one upon which he'd put his beautiful ring, and he led her out of her bedroom.
"STUPEFY!"
The light of Caradoc Dearborn's Stunning Spell slammed into Bellatrix, and she rocketed backward from where she stood duelling the enemy. Voldemort glanced over to see Bellatrix crumpled on the ground, unmoving and silent. He had half a mind to run to her, to scoop her up and Disapparate, but he had Edgar Bones locked up in a series of spells and couldn't sacrifice the man. But in the split second he'd gotten distracted, Bones sent a Blood on Fire Curse shimmering through the air. It sliced into Voldemort before he could block it, and suddenly his veins were overwhelmed with agonising pain.
"Rodolphus!" he found himself yelling, firing Killing Curses toward Edgar Bones and missing just as the wizard Disapparated. He grimaced and screamed as Rodolphus turned his masked face toward him. "Get Bellatrix! Get her… and take her! Get her out of here, Lestrange, now!"
The pain was so severe that Voldemort couldn't think. In the instant before he managed to use his incredibly strong personal powers to overwhelm Edgar Bones' Blood on Fire Curse, Voldemort saw Rodolphus Lestrange dash to his wife and grab her sleeve, taking her away from the battle by Side-Along Apparition. Voldemort's chest yanked, not from the pain of the Curse he'd taken, and he collapsed to his knees as the members of the Order of the Phoenix began to flee.
"We've got them on the run, My Lord!" he heard young Lucius Malfoy cry with glee, and Voldemort just wordlessly nodded where he knelt, shutting his eyes and whispering Bellatrix's name into the night.
Lord Voldemort gasped, sitting up quickly as he awakened from his dream. Only, it wasn't just a dream. It was an utterly horrifying memory. He touched at his forehead as he thought back to that particular battle. Bellatrix hadn't been well even before the fight; she'd been recovering from a series of Curses she'd taken just days earlier and had been physically weak. But she'd insisted on coming along, and she'd been Stunned. She'd shown up with Rodolphus to the debriefing meeting Voldemort had called the next day, looking pale and drawn with dark circles under her eyes. Voldemort had scolded her that she was fighting too hard, had encouraged her to take a bit of a break, but Bellatrix had begged her master to let her keep fighting.
She'd murdered three enemies less than a week later, proving herself as always to be his very best Death Eater.
Now, Voldemort glanced around and realised he was still where he was meant to be - back in time, having traveled through the ages after attempting to kill Harry Potter. He was meant to be here, he knew, because he was meant to have Bellatrix for his own. He was meant to be here, in his stout mahogany bed with emerald glazed chintz bedding and curtains, situated within the elegant Georgian bedroom in the house he'd bought in Worcestershire. He hadn't been able to get his hands on the manor outside Danby where he'd lived in his memory, but this house was large and dignified, almost sumptuous. The grounds surrounding it were thick with trees and lush green grass, and Voldemort thought this would be a good place to come home to after eventual battles, after meetings.
He intended on keeping it secret for security purposes. That was a lesson he'd learnt properly the first time round. He'd kept his own home to himself, and had held meetings and maintained his office at Malfoy Manor. He intended on continuing to do so. Better Malfoy Manor be slightly vulnerable than Lord Voldemort's own home. Voldemort had obtained for himself and Bellatrix a scampering little House-Elf called Romy, a young and eager female who was prepared to cook and clean and, she'd made plain, help the mistress look very fine for social events. Voldemort had chuckled at that but had paid the price for the Elf from the placement agency in Diagon Alley and had brought her to Praelia House.
He pulled himself out of bed and went downstairs in his dressing gown, dining on an early luncheon of French chestnut soup and bread with a warm Butterbeer. Romy cleaned his bedchamber whilst he ate, and then the Elf came and cleared the master's dishes from luncheon. Voldemort spent the next several hours in the largest downstairs parlour, which had elaborate Enchanted wallpaper showing a gently moving pastoral landscape of farmers and their cows with little geese trotting about. Voldemort selected a book on the life of Paracelsus and sat on an elegant cream divan, reading for a while before the silence began to annoy him. He rose and walked over to the brass gramophone in the corner, putting on a record of wizarding opera. He hesitated, then pulled the needle off the opera and stared out the window for a moment. He studied the forest beyond the house and considered going for an unassisted flight, just for fun, but finally he started the music up again and returned to his reading. He was quiet and peaceful, absorbing information about Paracelsus' contribution to Dose Theory in poisons and his work with the Magical community in Basel. Finally, he glanced at the clock and smirked, seeing the time and feeling relieved. He Banished the book on Paracelsus back to the shelf and climbed the broad stairs up from the home's grand foyer, turning into the room he intended on sharing with Bellatrix.
Voldemort went into his bathroom and took a scalding hot shower, savouring the feel of the water's spray from the copper pipes as he scrubbed his body with French soap and washed and oiled his hair. He toweled off in the steamy tiled room, studying his reflection as he cleaned his teeth with mint powder and then shaved. His features were abjectly handsome here, he thought. The scars of war and age were gone. Perhaps they would come again, but for now he was a wizard in his forties, his hair thick and black, his face relatively smooth, his lips dark and full, his eyes glittering with life. He knew Bellatrix had always pined after him, had always chased his attention like a loyal dog craving a word and a pat from its owner. But here, he knew, she'd latched on even more quickly to his movement, and she also was profoundly attracted to him as a man. That made his stomach twist a little, thinking about the vibration of want that always seemed to shiver between them, especially when he pondered the bargain he'd made with Cygnus Black III.
Druella's idea that a marriage between Voldemort and her eldest daughter would be advantageous for everyone involved had been picked up keenly by Cygnus, who was already an ally of Voldemort's and who certainly wished for the same mutual benefits his wife sought. Cygnus had also been catastrophically concerned about Bellatrix's future after her getting into so much trouble at Hogwarts and falling out with Rodolphus Lestrange. In fact, Cygnus so ardently supported the match between his daughter and Tom Riddle that he'd suggested something that had shocked Voldemort. Cygnus had said he would be happy to sign legal documents to marry Bellatrix to Voldemort before the end of the summer holidays, before Bellatrix's birthday, so that all the Blacks' desired Pureblood guests could attend the wedding. As for Voldemort's plan to educate Bellatrix himself, Cygnus had contededly concurred, citing his daughter's disciplinary issues at the end of the previous term and her lack of meaningful friendships at Hogwarts.
Voldemort had happily agreed to it all, and so had Bellatrix, squealing with delight when Cygnus had unveiled the plan over a dinner at the Black family home to which Voldemort had been invited. She'd seized his hand and grinned broadly at him, excitement painted all over her beautiful face, and Voldemort's heart had hammered. She wasn't Rodolphus' wife here, he'd thought. He would not spend the next thirteen years staring at her during meetings, admiring her during battles, and coveting her at social events and never once having the courage to kiss her or inform her of his appetite for her. Here, she was his. She was already his most devoted servant, even though she still had the Ministry's Trace on her and would not be able to perform spells under Voldemort's tutelage until September. He had visions of her as his bride; he had fantasies of her moaning beneath him in their bed. He knew full well what she looked like in the heat of battle, what Killing Curses sounded like whipping from her lips through crisp winter night air. He remembered vividly what she'd looked like, time and time again, wrapping an enemy up in a solid Cruciatus Curse and cackling with glee as they writhed and screamed for mercy. He remembered teaching her Occlumency, thinking it was important to protect her mind from Dumbledore or the others given how many she'd killed and maimed. She'd been preternaturally gifted with the subject, learning it so quickly that Voldemort had been astounded. He remembered testing her, accidentally seeing a memory of her naked with Rodolphus Lestrange when her mental defences had cracked.
That last bit would never happen now, Voldemort knew. Not that way, at least. It was different now; she was his. Rodolphus had been dating Josephine Flint for a little while now. Perhaps they would marry. Perhaps Josephine would bear Rodolphus some children. Voldemort's lips curled up a little at the thought of that as he pulled on his black formal waffle weave robes, at the idea of the wizard he remembered being Bellatrix's husband bound to some other flit of a witch. And, of all witches, perhaps it was to be Iris Greengrass' daughter. How very fitting. Voldemort glanced in the mirror beside his wardrobe and ensured he looked slick and handsome, with his hair parted and combed carefully, with the silver clasps down his chest glinting. He made certain that his dragonhide dress boots shone, that there was not a single bit of flint or dust upon his attire.
He'd put cologne on, for he'd sensed the way she'd liked it the last few times he'd worn it for her. He remembered wearing this exact scent, a fine fragrance sold by Myrepsicus Spyce, to Bellatrix's wedding to Rodolphus, to Narcissa's wedding to Lucius, and to a few other great social events. He did recall Bellatrix giving him an odd look here or there on those occasions, as though she were noticing something about him that seemed more pleasant than usual. Or perhaps it had just been all the Champagne they'd drunk on such occasions. In any case, Voldemort now tried to be as smart as possible, for he was headed to Malfoy Manor for a formal engagement party. Tullia Malfoy had absolutely insisted upon throwing one, since she still hosted Tom Riddle's office, and since Druella's ancestral family home, Rosier Keep, was to serve as the location for the wedding. Voldemort had agreed, not least because this was an opportunity to further ingratiate himself, network, and verify his bona fides as an elite wizard among members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. He needed to acquire followers. Parties like this, particularly ones honouring him, served to highlight just how relevant and influential he was.
He pulled out his wand and stalked down the stairs, calling for Romy and sharply informing the House-Elf he'd be home much later, that he was off to his engagement party with Mistress Bellatrix.
"Romy can't wait to meet Mistress Bellatrix, Master," Romy said enthusiastically. "Is she very wonderful?"
"She is…" Voldemort tried to find the words to describe Bellatrix, and his mind spun as he thought of kissing her here, in her youth, of her touching him to completion, of her slaughtering enemies on a rainy battlefield and huffing with exhaustion after hours of torturing someone. He thought of dancing with her at a New Year's Party when she'd been married to Rodolphus and he'd had to stay stiff and formal, when she'd looked at him like he was her entire world and she'd whispered Master at him pleadingly. He shut his eyes and adjusted his grip on his yew wand, and he said softly to Romy, "She is magnificent."
Without another word, he Disapparated off to Malfoy Manor.
"Bellatrix!" exclaimed a voice, and as Bellatrix turned round, Hyacinth Avery and two other witches from Slytherin sauntered up in formal robes, each of them holding one of the party's signature non-alcoholic drinks - a honeydew, cucumber, and mint soda. Bellatrix flashed Hyacinth and the other two girls, Juniper Rowle and Bellatrix's cousin Ottilie Rosier, a little smile. Hyacinth gestured to Bellatrix and gushed, "You look marvelous."
"Oh. Thank you. My mother insisted on a new gown from Twillfit and Tattings, and I insisted it be black," Bellatrix japed. She glanced down at herself, at the floor-length black silk gown she wore with its long cape that left her thin arms bare except for her diamond bracelet. She'd styled her curls very carefully with Sleekeazy's and had pulled them halfway back with twists and pinned jewels into them, but she'd rather deliberately left them hanging down besides that. Her makeup was dark, perhaps too dark for the season, with deep red lipstick and smoky eye makeup. The other girls wore far more summery attire, with Juniper having gone so far as to wear a knee-length confection with a floral pattern. Ottilie Rosier seized Bellatrix's left hand, and all three girls gasped and oohed and ahhed for a long moment as they admired Bellatrix's uniquely grey salt and pepper diamond on her ring, the perfectly clear diamonds surrounding it, and the overall design of the thing.
"Where did he get it?" Hyacinth Avery breathed, and Bellatrix said quite proudly,
"He made it himself. He is remarkably talented. He's an incredibly powerful wizard."
"My goodness! I should say so. How terribly romantic," cooed Hyacinth in return. Her cousin Ottilie spoke up then and said,
"My mum says your mum is quite pleased with this wedding. My mum says it's quite a strong match, even if he is a Half-Blood, since everyone knows how skilled and charismatic Tom Riddle is. Just the same, Bellatrix, aren't you devastated about marrying so young? And to a wizard who's so old? And not coming back to Hogwarts?"
"Devastated?" scoffed Bellatrix. She shook her head and then glanced over to where her affianced stood chatting with a cluster of middle-aged witches and wizards, a glass of firewhisky in his hand. "Ha! Hardly. I will be continuing my education under my husband, and he's far more qualified to teach me than any of our Hogwarts professors. As for marrying him, I'm… I'm…"
The other girls laughed a little then, for Bellatrix had trailed off and was now staring at Voldemort where he stood talking in a lively manner. She just stared, and so her schoolmates giggled, and finally Ottilie teased good-naturedly,
"I think she's in love."
"Better that we actually want one another than I wind up with some brainless dolt like Rodolphus," Bellatrix snarled, looking back at the girls. They all went a bit quiet then as Juniper Rowle raised her eyebrows at sipped at her soda. Juniper, who was very close friends with Josephine Flint, said quite carefully,
"It is such a tangled situation, isn't it? You and Tom Riddle being together now? Given what happened with him and Rodolphus' mother?"
Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot. She shook her head a little and shrugged. "I don't know what you're on about."
Juniper sipped her soda again and flicked her eyes to Voldemort. It was then that Bellatrix noticed, among the group he was speaking with, both of Rodolphus' parents. She wasn't actually sure why they had been invited to this party. Her own parents no longer got on well with the Lestranges, and Rodolphus certainly wasn't here. But there was Mrs Lestrange, laughing rather uproariously at something Voldemort had said. Bellatrix pursed her lips as her cousin Ottilie tried to diffuse the situation, touching Bellatrix's arm and saying in a soothing voice,
"He's twenty-five years older than you, cousin. Surely you can't expect him to have a spotless past with witches. He's committing to you now."
"I don't… I wouldn't ask him about his past," Bellatrix insisted, but Juniper Rowle said slickly,
"When we heard about your engagement, Bellatrix, my mother was surprised. You see, she was in Slytherin with Tom Riddle. And with Mrs Lestrange, back when she was Sadie Crouch. Apparently, Tom Riddle managed to sleep his way through practically every Slytherin girl near his age - except your mother, somehow, and my own mother was only a fourth-year at the time. But it all started with Sadie Crouch."
Juniper let what she'd said settle for a moment as she refreshed herself with another small sip of her soda before continuing casually, "Tom Riddle lost his virginity to Sadie and she ran about telling everyone about him, and he was so very handsome that all the girls wanted a piece. The boys pretended not to mind, and after school they all married the girls like they were meant to do. Now they've all had him, but you? You have his ring on your finger. So I suppose you've won."
Bellatrix just stared at Juniper Rowle, whose pug nose sniffled a little and whose coral pink lips curled into an ugly smirk before she sipped her honeydew, cucumber, and mint soda again. Bellatrix tried to speak, but she felt nauseated. She felt like she wanted to cry. Her master, the man she'd agreed to marry, had not only bedded half the grown witches in this room, but had apparently lost his virginity to Rodolphus Lestrange's mother. Bellatrix felt like she was going to vomit on the Malfoy's ballroom floor. She shut her eyes and listened to the Enchanted strings playing in the corner, and then she heard her cousin Odellie say quietly,
"Hyacinth, I saw Brie and fig crostini on the food table. Looked delicious. Shall we go get some?"
"Yes, I'm starved. See you, Bellatrix. Congratulations again. I quite like your ring," Hyacinth replied in a very awkward voice. Bellatrix just nodded, and when at last she'd opened her eyes and looked up, all three girls had gone. Bellatrix was left alone, shaking where she stood, desperately trying not to cry.
"There you are. Mmph. It was nigh on impossible to break away from that conversation; I apologise. This is for you; your father would like to do the toast in a moment. Bella? What's the matter?"
She stared at Voldemort numbly. He'd walked up to her and pushed a flute of apple cider into her hands, and her voice sounded hollow in her own ears as she said in a flat tone,
"This is juice. I'd like to toast with Champagne."
"Well." Voldemort glanced about and scoffed. "Once we're married, you can drink firewhisky and wine with me at home. Unfortunately, there are a good many Ministry employees here, and you never can guess who's going to go whinging to the Department of Intoxicating Substances about you toasting your engagement with… you're not upset about Champagne."
She just huffed a quivering breath and studied his face, trying to imagine him as a boy her age, a sixth-year Slytherin sneaking about with girls. But she couldn't find that boy in his face. She felt her eyes burn so badly that she could no longer contain the tears that boiled over, and she whispered frantically,
"Is it true? About Sadie Lestrange?"
He scowled and glanced over his shoulder, and Bellatrix's stomach sank. She watched Voldemort's throat bob as he shrugged and admitted,
"Everyone has a first time. She was mine. But she's here with Rudy, whom she married whilst she was still in school, and with whom she had two boys. So. All there is to know is that I was profoundly young and inexperienced and clumsy when I lost my virginity to Sadie Crouch, and she was fool enough to go running through Slytherin bragging about it for some reason."
"And you," Bellatrix choked out, tightening her grip on her flute of apple cider until she thought it would shatter, "seized on that attention and shagged all the girls you could get your hands on. And they all wanted you, so you had all of them."
He opened his mouth and hesitated. His cheeks pinked, and he shifted on his feet. "Erm. It's a bit more nuanced than that. Perhaps we can discuss it some other time."
Bellatrix felt her face crumple, feeling horrified. "Juniper Rowle mocked me! She threw it in my face that you'd been with so very many witches. But she reassured me that you hadn't been with my mother."
Voldemort looked very annoyed, licking his lips and knocking back the rest of his firewhisky. As Dobby passed, he slammed his empty tumbler down on the Elf's tray so hard that Dobby almost toppled over. Voldemort snatched a flute of Champagne from Dobby's tray and hissed in a low voice to Bellatrix,
"She's right. I was never with Druella Rosier, because Druella Rosier made it her mission to denigrate Tom Marvolo Riddle to anyone who would listen as a dirty little Half-Blood who went home on holidays to a Muggle orphanage, a pretender and an arrogant newcomer who was budging in where he wasn't wanted. She warned every girl in our House that they'd be sullying themselves by stripping down with me, and she kept herself good and pure for your father. So, yes, Bellatrix. I slept my way through Slytherin, partly because it felt good to be wanted and it felt good to be fucked. And I did it for power."
He shocked her then by yanking her arm and dragging her to a high top table, snatching her flute of cider and setting it down with his own Champagne. Suddenly he was looming over her with her face in his hands, seething down at her as he said through clenched teeth,
"But you also need to understand, Bellatrix Black, and this is critically important, that I have spent a very long time waiting for precisely the right person to come about. I have gone wholly untouched for thirteen years in large part because of how hollow and empty it became for me to fuck a witch whom I didn't crave to the marrow of my bones. But I have that now. With you. Now that I have touched you one time, if I never feel so much as the whisper of another witch's touch, I will have become the happiest man on Earth. Do you understand me?"
She gasped and nodded frantically. His hands tightened a little on her face, and he murmured,
"Your friends are staring at us right now."
"They are not my friends, Master," Bellatrix whispered, and he quirked up his lips and nodded. He bent down and brushed his lips against hers gently and then hummed,
"How jealous should I make them, Bella? How jealous do you want Juniper Rowle to feel? Do you want Sadie Crouch Lestrange to see me with my hands all over you? Hmm?"
"Yes, please. Master." Bellatrix felt faint then as one of his hands migrated into the thick of her curls, cradling her face against his tightly in a kiss. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, shocking her with his boldness as he grunted softly, and his other arm snaked around her and slid to the small of her back. He pulled her flush against him, and she burrowed her face against his chest as he rubbed at her back and then soothed her arms.
"I'm somewhat glaring daggers at them," He hummed from above her then, and Bellatrix breathed in the scent of his cologne from his elegant black robes. Citrus and incense and vetiver. Bellatrix suddenly felt at ease, like all of her ugly envy and horrid worry from earlier had completely evaporated. She touched her forehead to Voldemort's sternum and reached up blindly to stroke at his jaw. She felt him take her hand in his, felt him kissing her knuckles, and she shivered with desire.
"I want to go to Praelia House with you," she murmured up to him, and he smiled a little down to her as he rubbed at her fingers and then kissed them again. He tipped his head.
"What, tonight?" he teased. "After this party?"
"Right now," Bellatrix said gravely, and his dark eyes flashed. He licked his lips and shook his head, his smile disappearing as he mumbled,
"Don't taunt me, Bella; you've no idea how badly I want -"
"I think I have some idea. Master," Bellatrix interrupted him breathlessly. She chewed her ruby lip and stared up at him, and he seemed like he was about to say something, but then someone loudly cleared their voice from beside them. Bellatrix managed to pull herself off of Voldemort, unable somehow to feel embarrassed of how publicly they'd been all over one another. Voldemort adjusted his stance so that he was slightly hidden by the table, and Bellatrix suspected she knew why; she'd felt the firmness of his arousal against her abdomen.
"Hello, Juniper," Bellatrix said rather sharply, for Juniper Rowle had approached them. Or, rather, Juniper's parents had approached them and seemed to have dragged Juniper and her two younger brothers. Juniper's face was tomato red, and now Bellatrix found herself almost laughing at the way Juniper seemed so irate. On instinct, she went to stand before Voldemort, and he threaded his arms around her front, pulling her tightly against him as he nodded in greeing to Mr Rowle.
"Kit. Still with the Aurors?"
"For now, Tom," teased Mr Rowle. "Congratulations on the engagement. And to you, Miss Black. Your father seems pleased."
He said that quite delicately, and Bellatrix reached for Voldemort's bicep, as though holding a life preserver, as she shrugged and asked,
"Why wouldn't my father be pleased, Mr Rowle? I'm marrying Lord Voldemort. What greater honour could there be for the House of Black?"
She felt Voldemort's arm twitch beneath her touch, and before her, Mrs Rowle and Juniper flashed each other meaningful looks. Kit Rowle seemed mildly impressed then, saying,
"Lord Voldemort. So that wasn't just a play title being bandied about."
"Indeed not," said Voldemort stiffly from behind Bellatrix. "I mean to accomplish great things for the wizarding world, Kit. It would be wise to get in on those things as early as you can. Seniority and all that."
"Ah. Of course. I'll send an owl and perhaps we can meet to further discuss things," Mr Rowle said, looking just a little alarmed. "You're boarding here at Malfoy Manor, correct?"
Voldemort scoffed. "No. Not anymore. Abraxas will keep my office for me, in case my headquarters are ever compromised. My private home with Bella is somewhere significantly more… clandestine."
She felt him kiss the top of her head then, and she tipped her face to look up at him with a pleading stare. He acquiesced at once and lowered his face to hers, bringing their mouths together in a brief kiss and humming onto her just loudly enough that Bellatrix knew Juniper would hear.
"My Lord," Bellatrix said then, very meaningfully, "Have you met Juniper, Mr Rowle's daughter? She was a roommate of mine in Slytherin. I suppose I shan't be seeing you very often now, Juniper, since my husband will be educating me from here on out. Anyway. Juniper, this is Lord Voldemort. My Lord, Juniper Rowle."
"Ah. Yes." Voldemort still did not release Bellatrix, and indeed he pulled her a bit more protectively against himself as he noted, "I seem to recall, Miss Rowle, that you were the one who slipped on the dance floor at Lucius' Malfoy's birthday party. End over end. Gracious. I do hope you didn't hurt yourself."
Bellatrix laughed silently, and Juniper's face somehow went redder than ever. She forced a little smile as her little brother glanced between everyone, and then Juniper declared,
"Nothing a quick Ferula Charm by my mother couldn't mend. It was a sprained ankle. Too high a heel, you know."
"Oh. My Lord knows I shall never wear heels," laughed Bellatrix, "not even on our wedding day."
"Especially not then, I hope," Voldemort said quietly, "for I intend on dancing with you until your feet are aching terribly, even in very comfortable shoes, Bella. And, oh, how I intend on wearing you out after that."
"My Lord!" Bellatrix coughed a chuckle and gave him a look like he'd been profoundly naughty, and he smirked at her and shrugged helplessly.
"Did you see Sadie Lestrange's hideous robes?" hissed Bellatrix to Juniper, as though she revealing some kind of awful secret. Juniper looked like she was going to explode, quivering where she stood, red-face and seething, but her mother and father and little brothers just seemed baffled. Bellatrix laughed a little and remarked, "I swear I saw those robes on clearance at Twillfit and Tattings just a few weeks ago. You'd think Mr Lestrange would do better for her. And, anyway, that shade of yellow is entirely the wrong colour for her; it washes her out."
"Come now, Bella," she heard Voldemort coo from above her and when she glanced up at him, frowning, he tipped his head and said, "You know better than to tease poor Sadie. They could put her in the finest cream-coloured mulberry silk from Sichuan and you know she'd look like a frumpy old frog."
Bellatrix erupted into laughter then, covering her mouth with her hand until Voldemort wrenched her fingers away and kissed them, then bent to touch his mouth to hers. He brushed his thumb over Bellatrix's fourth finger and said very deliberately,
"My metalwork looks very fine on your hand. And your wedding vows shall be very fine coming from your lips. And then you shall be mine, and I shall be yours. Hm?"
"Yes." Bellatrix whispered the word at him, feeling more grateful then than she'd ever felt in her entire life. He just nodded at her, wordlessly saying everything, as Cygnus Black III called out for people to go fetch their Champagne so he could make his toast.
Author's Note: Haha. Take that, Juniper! Gotta love some possessive Voldemort, no? And those were some serious power moves he put down on Kit Rowle. Mwah haha. As always, thank you so very much for reading. If you get a spare moment, kindly leave a review. Your feedback is greatly appreciated.