"We don't have to do this, Master. Not today."

"Yes, we do." Voldemort was sitting on the edge of the stout bed in Praelia House, the emerald glazed chintz bedding scratching a bit at his nude body. His bare feet were planted firmly on the floor, and Bellatrix was naked atop him, straddling his lap with a thin leg on either side of his hips. Her twiggy arms were twined around his shoulders, and her beautiful inky curls fell around her doll-like face. Voldemort stared at her breasts, small and splendid, He gulped hard and dragged his fingertips up from her tiny waist over her ribcage and met her wide, coffee-coloured eyes.

"I need you today," he murmured. "Your birthday did not go quite according to plan, and for that, I apologise."

"My Lord." Bellatrix shook her head. "I have entirely forgiven what happened at the Malfoys' party. And I am, to be honest, amused by my Uncle Orion's and my Aunt Walburga's panicked consternation about Sirius, especially given that the boy would grow to become a Blood Traitor and an enemy. But I am not amused at all by the accident… by what happened to Tom Travers. I'm still very sorry about that."

Voldemort nodded. He'd kissed Bellatrix quite a lot on her birthday, apologising over and over for making fools of them both at her party and for screaming at her and threatening her. He'd detailed for her why it was he'd felt compelled to apologise to the older witches. He'd gifted her custom-made black dragonhide boots, with flat soles, just over the ankle, with satin laces. Bellatrix had liked them very much, and she'd grinned and seemed happy. She'd seemed even happier when Voldemort had put the Dark Mark on her, making her his very first Death Eater.

Now, with her atop him where he sat on the edge of the bed, he picked up her left arm and brought her forearm to his lips, kissing at her dormant, pale pink Mark and brushing his mouth over the tattoo. Bellatrix shivered and then seethed through her clenched teeth. Voldemort used his other hand to reach behind her head and pull her against him, crushing her mouth against his. She moaned softly as he used his lips to push and caress hers. He cracked her mouth open and drove his tongue against the roof of her mouth, making her squirm atop him. His cock flushed hard and straight where it rested against her concave abdomen.

"Mmph…" Bellatrix's little hands worked desperately then to touch him everywhere she could. She rubbed his shoulders. She massaged his biceps and then went back to his cheeks, her thin fingers trembling like autumn leaves on his whiskered face. She kissed him back eagerly, suckling his lip and nibbling bravely. He remembered the first time he'd kissed her in this time, how he'd thought it was the first time he'd ever kissed her, how delicious she'd tasted after thirteen years of waiting for her. Now he drank her in like she was water and he was parched.

After a little while of the kissing, of her hands coursing over his flesh and eliciting tingles all around his body, Lord Voldemort could take no more. He snatched his face from hers, breaking the kiss with a little pop and panting a bit frantically. He gave Bellatrix a burning look, attempting to convey his desire straight into her through his eyes. She nodded, her lips pearlescent and swollen from their rough kisses. She made moves to arrange herself, reaching between them and gripping Voldemort's cock firmly but lovingly. She heaved her lithe body up and then sank down onto him, moaning softly as she sank down and absorbed him into her.

Voldemort's head fell back; he simply couldn't hold up the weight of his skull as he registered the sensation of Bellatrix's delightful womanhood around his manhood. She was cinched around him, deliciously snug around him like a pulsating, sodden spathe. Voldemort groaned rather loudly when he felt Bellatrix's mouth latch onto his neck. She was not aggressive and she did not bite, but the way her tongue grazed and her mouth nuzzled drew forth a low hiss of contentment.

He felt Bellatrix begin to sway, rising and falling on him, drawing him in and out of her body in a way that made his cock grow so hard it almost hurt. He held onto her hips, his calloused fingers sinking into her velvety skin and helping her move rhythmically. His mind whirled as he realised for how long he'd wanted her like this, thinking over the many years he'd spent desperately longing for her, the time he'd spent hopelessly in love with her. He thought of how he'd always feared for her life, of how he'd worried about losing her, even though she had been Rodolphus' wife. But now she was his. She was his wife. And she was moving on him, her body warm and wet around him, her mouth on his neck, and he was overwhelmed.

"I'm going to come," Voldemort mumbled, somewhat frantically. He didn't want to finish yet. He wanted this to go on forever. He wanted her to keep moving on him, to keep swaying. He wanted to her to have her own climax. He reached quickly between them and started to toy with her clit, feeling a frenzied urge to help Bellatrix feel satisfaction. But she gently pulled his hand away and murmured quietly onto the skin of his neck,

"I'm sensitive, Master; I reached my own peak a few moments ago. Please, find your pleasure."

"I may have no choice about that if you keep moving the way you're doing," Voldemort huffed. Bellatrix picked up the pace of her undulating movements. She moved her mouth to Voldemort's and let her tongue go between his lips. He responded at once, grunting with need as his hands squeezed her waist urgently. He made her stop moving then, because everything inside of his lower belly coiled and felt tight and demanding. He clutched at once at her face, her curls wrapping around his fingers and her teeth clacking against his as he kissed her roughly. Suddenly he was coming inside of her, his seed pumping up into her, filling her body with the proof of his gratification.

"I love you, Master," she whispered onto his lips, her breath feeling like delectable steam. Her round little breasts heaved onto his chest and her hands held his shoulders carefully as she brushed her mouth against his delicately. "I love you so very much."

"Bellatrix," Voldemort breathed, feeling his mind spin and his ears ring as the intense thudding of his climax began to fade, "You are my consort. If I am to reign, to wield authority, I have a lot of work ahead of me. But you will be beside me, won't you?"

"Of course I will, My Lord. Now… we really should get ready. Your son's funeral is in just a few hours."

"lectum in eternum inveniet, in terra nigra. sub gradibus nostris." Udo Shacklebolt stood in the Travers family burial ground beyond the conservatory at Travers Gardens. Just like the rest of the ancestral property, the burial ground was adorned with flowers and weaving plants, though by this point in September, most had withered for the season. Bellatrix looked up to Lord Voldemort, who blinked a few times and just stared straight ahead. Udo Shacklebolt, like everyone else, was clad in thick black robes, and his very dark, sharply angled face was serious and sombre as he looked up at those assembled and cued them, "Nunc dicimus, 'Magia eius sit aeterna.'"

"Magia eius sit aeterna," responded the crowd, and everyone pulled out their wands and extended them skyward. There were soft murmurs then as people cast the Lumos spell, and a cloud of bluish light glowed over all who had come for Thomas Travers. Voldemort felt Bellatrix lean against him a bit, cradling herself onto his arm. He nodded down at her and then glanced around. Some of Thomas' closest school friends had been given a brief leave from Hogwarts to come to the funeral. It seemed like the entire Slytherin Quidditch team was here, and Voldemort's eyes lingered on Rodolphus Lestrange for a long moment where he stood with his mother Sadie and his father Rudy. Lucius Malfoy had come home and looked distraught with Tullia Malfoy's arm around his shoulders. Narcissa Black had somehow been allowed to come, and she was holding Lucius' hand.

Freya and Bram Travers and the rest of their family was in the row of mourners just ahead of Voldemort and Bellatrix. Now, as everyone stood with their wands aloft, Bram went up to where Udo Shacklebolt was conducting the funeral. Freya dissolved into a fresh round of devastated tears, huddling over as her legitimate children and her parents moved to comfort her. Bram flashed her a sorrowful look, and he aimed his wand at the elegantly carved pine coffin on the ground beside the hole that had been dug into the black earth.

Bram Levitated the coffin and artfully guided it to the side and down into the ground. As he covered the coffin with dirt, using more spells to do so, Udo Shacklebolt began singing a mournful elegy in the Ancient Tongue that very few present understood besides Voldemort, a song about finding peace beyond the Veil.

Suddenly Voldemort realised that Bram was doing all of this for a young man he had raised but who was not related by him by blood at all. No. Thomas Travers had been conceived in the back of Borgin and Burke's, the result of Tom Riddle driving himself into Freya's young, married body until he spilled his seed and kissed her hard and then laughed a bit and sent her on her way. The dead boy whose funeral they attended now had been a Parselmouth like his father, like his ancestor Salazar Slytherin. He had been the very last of the Gaunts, without anyone realising it. And now he was in the pine coffin in the earth, dead and gone from taking a Bludger to the head during a Quidditch practise and falling and breaking his neck and spine.

Voldemort flicked his eyes to see Lazarus Bulstrode with tears streaming down his stout cheeks. The fifth-year Slytherin boy had been the Beater whose shot with the Bludger had taken out Thomas. By all accounts, Lazarus had been nearly suicidal with guilt in the immediate days after Thomas' death. Even now, he looked destroyed by grief.

At long last, it was time for everyone to mill around inside the house, which was exceedingly cramped once all of the mourners filled it. Travers Gardens was elegant and beautifully decorated, but it was not nearly as cavernous or palatial as more stately homes like Malfoy Manor or Rosier Keep. Voldemort fetched two goblets of dark red wine and went over to where Bellatrix stood standing in her hooded black wool dress with its braided black metal belt. She'd pulled her curls back into a tight, low chignon at the nape of her neck and wore hardly any makeup; she'd gone for a bleak and modest look today. Voldemort handed her the wine he'd fetched and raised his own glass, saying very softly,

"To my son. No one ever really knew him as the grandson of Merope Gaunt, or as the descendant of Salazar Slytherin. No one knew that his true blood was that of Lord Voldemort and not of Bram Travers. And even today, on the day of his funeral, I can not and must not claim him. Even so…" He trailed off, his throat feeling thick. Bellatrix nodded and said firmly,

"To your son, My Lord. To Thomas." Then she drank a little wine, and Voldemort did the same. He startled when Rodolphus Lestrange stepped right up to them, ignoring Voldemort entirely and seizing Bellatrix's elbow as though the two of them were still close.

"Can you believe it, Bellatrix?" Rodolphus asked, sounding horrified. "Oh, you should have seen it. Well, no. I mean, I'm glad you didn't. It was awful. The Bludger hit Tom straight in his head and… I mean, there was blood flying everywhere right then and there; we knew it was over. He went sailing off his broom and just… splat, you know? Splat. Hit the ground like a stone. But there was this dreadful crack when everything broke, his neck and his back and everything. He was dead the second he crashed. His broom was still hovering, and it was -"

"Dolph!" Bellatrix yanked her arm away and scowled at her former boyfriend. She snarled at him then, quite roughly, "Why on Earth would you tell me all of that? Have you no decency? Thomas is dead. I don't need the ghastly details."

Rodolphus shrugged and choked out an odd sound. "You've always been so macabre, Bellatrix; I thought you'd want to know exactly what happened."

"Why do you think my wife wishes to speak to you at all, Mr Lestrange?" Voldemort asked delicately. Rodolphus finally looked at him, and Voldemort raised his eyebrows. He sipped his red wine and gave Rodolphus an expectant look, shrugging. "Did you need something specific, or did you invade our presence to barrage us with the finer points of your friend's untimely death?"

Rodolphus' cheeks coloured crimson, and he scoffed. "Right. Can plainly see where I'm not wanted. Anyway, Bellatrix, I hope you're doing all right. My mum told me that you got screamed at at your birthday party. She told me you got called Bellatrix Lestrange for some odd reason, as though you were being mocked and taunted. Anyway. I wanted to make sure you're all right." He flashed Voldemort a deep scowl and then returned his eyes to Bellatrix, who took a large step away from him. She moved toward Voldemort and threaded her arm through his.

"I'm perfectly fine, Dolph. Couldn't be happier. I'm absolutely adoring my studies now that I've left Hogwarts, and I'm very content in my marriage. I'm sorry your mother was upset by my husband's silly little outburst at my birthday party. I promise she was infinitely more affected by it than I was. So sorry for the loss of your good friend Tom Travers. I know the two of you were close."

"Yeah." Rodolphus looked suspicious. "Thanks. Good seeing you, Bellatrix."

He turned to go, and Bellatrix called after him, "Perhaps we shall be seeing one another again sometime soon, Dolph."

He glanced over his shoulder at her, and she shrugged. "Who knows?"

Rodolphus walked away without another word. Before Voldemort could say anything to Bellatrix, a fresh face approached them, and this one filled him, somehow, with even more dread.

"Freya," Voldemort said quietly. A spike went through his chest as Freya Travers approached. She was white as snow, her face devoid of even the faintest flush. She'd obviously been crying, for she was puffy and sniffling, but she looked so exhausted and desolate that she herself seemed barely alive. Someone, probably Freya's old mother, had styled her hair into a simple braided style into which a few black beaded pins had been stuck. A simple but elegant veil of black tulle hung down from Freya's braids to the middle of her back. She wore a high-necked frock of black wool trimmed in lace, and she had a comforting-looking dark grey shawl around her shoulders.

Bellatrix shocked Voldemort by walking straight up to Freya and tossing her arms round the other witch's body, bringing her into an embrace. Voldemort looked on almost in horror, for in all the many years he'd known Bellatrix, she'd never behaved like this at all. She was not a "hugger," and for her to embrace another witch, especially one she did not particularly like, was hugely uncharacteristic. But here she stood, Freya Travers in her arms, and Freya just shook with sobs against Bellatrix's shoulder. Voldemort just watched in silence, unsure of what to do or say, until Bellatrix pulled back and said in a voice thick with emotion,

"Mrs Travers, I am remarkably sorry for the loss of your son."

"Th-thank you." Freya stroked gently at Bellatrix's shoulder. She turned to Voldemort and shook her head a little, saying helplessly, "Tom."

Voldemort hesitated. Then, for some reason he couldn't quite identify, he found himself hissing out in Parseltongue, "Kianosssathi maithossssa ssassaithossama."

Freya glanced at Bellatrix in confusion, and then asked Voldemort in a quivering little voice, "What does that mean?"

Voldemort reached for Freya's fingers and squeezed gently. "May his magic be eternal."

Freya tipped her chin up and nodded a little, new tears worming their way from her eyes and working down her pale cheeks. She made no effort to clear them away and instead just whispered,

"Thank you both for coming."

As she turned to walk away, Voldemort sighed and met Bellatrix's eyes. He shrugged a little and told her,

"All right. We've stayed long enough. Let's go home. You've got a Horcrux creation to carefully plan."

Author's Note: Sorry for the short length of this chapter, but I hope you still enjoyed it! Thanks as always for any and all feedback.